Thraxas and the Dance of Death

Chapter Fourteen

The city is full of mythical creatures and dead Humans. Reports from all sides indicate an unexplained outbreak of unicorns, centaurs, naiads, dryads and mermaids. No harm is caused by these creatures—they tend to vanish when pursued—but it makes the population edgy. The thought of Orcish invasion is never far below the conscious thoughts of the citizenry, and anything strange or unexplained tends to be thought of as an evil portent.

I’ve been chasing round the city looking for a powerful sorcerous item. Strange sorcerous events are now happening. It doesn’t take a genius to think they might be connected, but if they are, no one knows why, not even Lisutaris. Furthermore, there seem to be too many of these occurrences for them all to be linked to one missing green jewel, even if the green jewel could produce these events, which it can’t.

As for the dead Humans, it’s another epidemic. Everywhere the authorities look, they find another group of corpses. Some with wounds, some just dead for no apparent reason. Again, it’s hard to link this exactly to the missing pendant. At the exact same time as three market workers are found dead in the centre of town, four aqueduct maintenance men are found slaughtered in Pashish. Lisutaris’s pendant can’t be causing it all, and in a city where death is a common occurrence, it’s impossible to work out which of the fatalities might be linked to the pendant.

After waking with a headache, and visiting the public baths to cleanse myself of the accumulated filth of several days’ activity in hot weather, I go to see Cicerius at the Abode of Justice. He’s already aware of the charge which has been laid against me.

“I don’t sympathise in the slightest,” he says.

“Thanks for your support.”

“You were clearly warned that trouble would arise from your use of the Tribunate powers.”

“But I did it anyway. And now I’m in trouble.”

“You are, though personally I do not believe the charge of throwing away your shield and fleeing the battlefield,” says Cicerius. “I studied your record quite carefully before I first hired you to work for me. As I recall, you were an insubordinate soldier but your valour was never questioned. But I cannot have the charge dropped. The matter must go before a Senate committee, and until then your Tribune’s powers are revoked, as is your investigating licence.”

“Can’t you use your influence? My accuser is Vadinex and he works for Praetor Capatius.”

Cicerius knows Capatius very well. Not only is the Praetor the richest man in the city, he’s a senior member of the Traditionals, Cicerius’s party.

“Last year I got in Capatius’s way and now he’s getting his revenge. Can’t you get him off my back?”

The Deputy Consul is unenthusiastic, though he knows I’m speaking the truth when I claim he owes me a favour.

“Were you with Vadinex at the Battle of Sanasa?”

“We were in the same regiment. I don’t remember ever being close to him on the battlefield. But I was with plenty of other men who are still alive today who’ll testify on my behalf.”

“So you hope, Thraxas. My experience as a lawyer has taught me that men’s memories can be strangely affected by the passage of seventeen years. And they can be affected a good deal more by bribery. A charge of this sort, brought after so many years, will not be easy to defend in court if your opponents have planned it well.”

Cicerius muses for a while.

“I really doubt that Capatius is behind this charge.”

“He has to be. Vadinex is his man.”

“Even so, I doubt it. It is true that you inconvenienced Praetor Capatius last year, but the inconvenience was minor by his standards. A mere blip in his considerable income. I have seen the Praetor many times since then and he has never given me the impression that he holds any strong grudge against you. I am aware that you do not trust him, but I believe him to be far more honest than you give him credit for. Like many rich men, he has suffered at the hands of the Populares, who are always keen to accuse any worthy supporter of the King of corruption. Capatius himself fought bravely in the war, with a cohort he raised and equipped at his own expense. In my experience, it is rare for a man who fought in that campaign to raise a false charge against another who also fought. It would go against his sense of military honour.”

I’m not convinced. Capatius is obscenely wealthy. I can’t believe anyone could get to be so rich and still have a sense of honour.

“You offended many people when you prevented a full investigation of Lisutaris’s actions at the warehouse,” points out the Deputy Consul. “Far more likely that one of them would now wish to see you punished. Rittius, for instance. The head of Palace Security has long disliked you.”

“Yes, it’s possible it’s Rittius. But my instinct tells me that Capatius has put Vadinex up to it. So I appeal to you to make efforts on my behalf. Because as you will understand, Deputy Consul, if I’m dragged before a Senate committee on a charge of cowardice, I’ll be obliged to kill my accuser and flee the city.”

Cicerius looks shocked.

“You will obey the law of Turai,” he informs me sternly.

“Absolutely.”

“While you are here,” says Cicerius, “would you care to tell me the precise nature of the difficulties that Lisutaris finds herself in?”

“No real difficulties, Deputy Consul. A minor matter of a missing diary.”

I intimate that I am unable to say more due to Investigator-client privilege.

“You have no such privileges. Your licence has been suspended.”

“Then I’ve suffered a sudden loss of memory.”

“Yesterday a unicorn wandered through the Senate while I was speaking,” says Cicerius.

“That must have livened things up.”

“My speech did not need to be livened up. It was already quite lively enough. Do you have any idea why these creatures should suddenly be infesting the city?”

“None at all.”

“Nothing to do with our powerful Sorceress Lisutaris?”

“Not as far as I know.”

Cicerius dismisses me. I’m fairly satisfied with the meeting. He might help. If nothing else, I’ve ascended the social ladder a fraction in the last year. Not too long ago I’d never have been granted permission to see the Deputy Consul, never mind ask him for a favour.

Halfway between Cicerius’s office and the outskirts of Thamlin, I encounter a figure walking briskly up the road in a cloak and hood which hides her features.

“Makri? What are you doing here?”

Makri pulls back her hood a little.

“I’m in disguise.”

“I can see that. Why?”

“I’m going to kill Vadinex.”

“What? Why?”

Makri shrugs.

“I thought I’d help you.”

“How were you going to find him?”

“Call in at Praetor Capatius’s mansion and find out from someone there where he was likely to be.”

“And then go and kill him?”

“That’s right. If he was dead, there wouldn’t be a charge against you, would there?”

I’m almost touched by Makri’s concern.

“It’s not a bad plan. But I’ve just asked the Deputy Consul to intervene on my behalf and I don’t want to offend him by killing Vadinex before it’s absolutely necessary.”

Makri shrugs. She hasn’t asked me a single question about the Battle of Sanasa because, I know, she does not regard it as possible that I fled the field. I remember that I’m friends with Makri and feel bad about giving her a hard time.

“I’m about to hunt through some taverns in Kushni for Barius, Professor Toarius’s son. I think that if we apply some pressure we might get to the bottom of this theft at the college.”

Makri wants to come along, so we set off towards the centre of the city.

“Was it a really bad disguise?” asks Makri.

“Not too bad. But I recognised your walk.”

“I didn’t really need a disguise at all, but I thought if I killed Vadinex it would be better if people didn’t know it was me that did it. You know, with us living in the same tavern. It might have cast suspicion on you.”

“I appreciate you making the effort. I’m sorry I moaned at you.”

“It was more than moaning. It was vilification and character assassination.”

“Surely not.”

“You called me a vile Orcish wench.”

“Then I apologise for any offence. As always, I meant it in a positive sense.”

The heat is stifling. Makri removes her cloak as we walk through the dusty streets.

“I did mess things up with Tanrose. When I suggested she take some time to think about her feelings, I wasn’t expecting her to leave the tavern.”

“It’s not really your fault, Makri. The problem is with Gurd. He’s been a bachelor so long, he’s scared to acknowledge any sort of affection for her. That’s why he started criticising her bookkeeping.”

“To disguise his affection?”

“Yes.”

Makri nods.

“I have encountered this sort of thing in the plays of the Elvish bard Las-ar-Heth. Not concerning bookkeeping, but similar. The great Elvish lord Avenath-ir-Yill once made his queen cry by accusing her of infidelity with a unicorn, but really he was just upset because she no longer played the harp to him at bedtime. The reason for this was that her hands were sore from plaiting the unicorn’s mane, which she had to do to keep her son alive, but of course she couldn’t explain this to her husband without letting him know about the curse which hung over her family.”

My head is starting to spin.

“This is similar to Gurd and Tanrose?”

“Very. A frank exchange of views would have resolved the problem, but they both had secrets they didn’t want to reveal. Eventually, of course, it led to the great schism between the tribes of Yill and Evena, which, I understand, is not fully resolved even now.”

“You read all this in a play?”

Makri nods. She is apparently a great enthusiast for the plays of the Elvish bard Las-ar-Heth.

“Quite an unconventional rhyme scheme, and rather archaic in tone, but very stirring.”

“I’ll read some at the first opportunity,” I say, which makes Makri laugh, which she doesn’t do that often.

“Is that a mermaid in that fountain?”

We stare across the road at the large fountain. Sitting at the feet of the statue of St. Quatinius there is indeed a mermaid. Children laugh, and point. The mermaid smiles seductively, then fades away.

“Turai is becoming a very interesting place. Are we all going mad?”

“I don’t know. At least it’s only friendly creatures who’ve been appearing. It’s not going to be much fun if dragons start roaming the streets.”

“I liked the frogs,” says Makri.

By this time we’re passing through the royal market, just north of Kushni, one of Turai’s main concentrations of goods for sale. The shops here sell clothes, jewellery, wine, weapons, expensive goods mainly. The market stalls sell foodstuffs but are very different from the cheap markets of Twelve Seas. Here the servants of the rich come to order household provisions from market traders whose stalls are full of the highest-quality fare, often imported from the nations to the west, or even the Elvish Isles.

Makri stares through the window of a jeweller’s shop.

“Who earns enough to buy these things?” she wonders out loud.

A young woman emerges from the shop, followed by two servants. When she sees Makri she gives her the slightest of nods before passing by. I ask Makri who the young woman was.

“Avenaris. Lisutaris’s secretary.”

I’m already in pursuit. I’ve been forbidden to question this young woman. Always makes an Investigator suspicious. I cut her off with my bulk. She regards me rather nervously. I introduce myself but she already knows who I am.

“I was wondering if you could help me with a few questions.”

“Lisutaris would not wish me to talk about her business with anyone,” says Avenaris. “Even an Investigator she hired. Excuse me.”

She tries to walk past. I get in the way. She’s looking very, very nervous. More nervous than she should be. I’m not that frightening, not in daylight anyway. Not frightening enough to make a person develop a facial tic within seconds of meeting me, yet Avenaris’s eyelid is starting to tremble violently.

“Maybe you could just tell me a little about what happened that day at the stadium—”

“What is going on here?”

It’s Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky.

“Did I not specifically tell you to leave my secretary alone?”

“He stood in my way,” says Avenaris, making it sound like a major crime. She’s now close to tears.

“I’m sorry,” says Lisutaris, attempting to pacify her. “He really had no business bothering you. Go home now, I’ll make sure he doesn’t trouble you again.”

Avenaris walks off swiftly, still attended by the servants. The Sorceress regards me with fury.

“How dare you harass my staff!”

“Save the lecture, Lisutaris. What’s the matter with her? I asked her a polite question and she practically broke down in tears.”

“She is a young woman of nervous disposition. Far too delicate to be confronted by the likes of you. I must insist—”

“You should’ve let me talk to her. I get the strong impression she knows something.”

“Do I have to remind you that Avenaris is my niece? I did not hire you to harass my family. For the last time, stay away from my secretary.”

Lisutaris looks genuinely threatening. I drop the subject, for now anyway. I’ll pursue it later, no matter what Lisutaris says.

“Encountered any unicorns?” I ask.

“No. But there were two mermaids in my fish ponds, albeit briefly. I’m baffled. They’re obviously sorcerous apparitions but I can’t trace their source.”

“Did you get my message about Horm the Dead?”

Lisutaris nods, and frowns.

“Horm the Dead is a very dangerous individual. Consul Kalius should be immediately informed that he is in the city.”

“And has he been?”

“No,” admits Lisutaris. “I’m still trying to keep things quiet.”

In the past few days Lisutaris has been subjected to much questioning from fellow Sorcerers and government officials. So far it has remained informal.

“Deputy Consul Cicerius visited to ask me about some aqueduct renovations. I wasn’t aware that he valued my opinion on the city’s water supply. Harmon Half Elf happened to find himself in the vicinity and dropped in to share an amusing story about some Elvish Sorcerers.”

Given Lisutaris’s status, it’s difficult for anyone to come right out and demand to know what’s going on, though it’s perfectly obvious that something is. However, having moved heaven, earth and the three moons to get her elected as head of the Sorcerers Guild, no one in Turai wants her to be plunged into disgrace only a few months later. Turai would be severely damaged in the eyes of all nations.

“They’re hovering round the subject. I’ve been keeping quiet like you suggested, but I can’t hold out for ever. Tilupasis was sniffing round for information and you know what a cunning operator she is. I was reduced to telling her that I really had to ask her to leave because I needed some privacy to smoke my thazis pipe, so there goes my reputation among Turai’s aristocratic matrons. Now it’ll be all over Thamlin that Lisutaris can’t grant you more than a half-hour audience before she has to smoke thazis.”

“Didn’t everyone know that already?” asks Makri, who has not yet learned how to be tactful.

“I am not reliant on thazis,” says Lisutaris, coldly.

“Oh,” says Makri. “Sorry. I thought you were. I remember when you collapsed at the Sorcerers Assemblage and I had to carry you to your pipe and you were gasping about how you needed thazis, so I just naturally assumed—”

“Could we discuss this another time?” says Lisutaris, shooting her an angry glance. She turns the angry glance in my direction.

“Not that I had much reputation left after word got around that I’d hired you to buy back my diary which I was desperate to retrieve due to its being full of extremely intimate love poems. I understand that guessing the identity of my secret lover is now a popular game at dinner parties.”

“I’m shocked, Lisutaris. When I told Kalius about your diary, I thought he’d keep it a secret.”

“Who is it?” asks Makri.

“Who is who?”

“The person you’re in love with?”

“I’m not in love with anyone. Thraxas made it up.”

Makri looks puzzled.

“Why?”

“I needed a cover story. It was all I could think of.”

Makri is of the opinion that I could have done better.

“After all, many people say you’re one of the finest liars in the city.”

Lisutaris is certain that the Consul is going to ask to see the pendant when he comes to the ball.

“Kalius might not be sharp as an Elf’s ear, but even he must know by now I’ve lost the pendant. Damn it, I wish I hadn’t chosen this moment to hold a social function.”

“Talking of your social function,” I say, “Horm the Dead mentioned that he might be paying a visit.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And as you say, Horm is a very dangerous individual. I think it would be wise for you to have some extra personal protection at the ball.”

“You may be right,” says Lisutaris.

I wait for my invitation. Lisutaris turns to Makri.

“Would you mind being my bodyguard again?”

“I’d be delighted,” answers Makri.

I stare morosely at the jeweller’s window. Lisutaris is a disgrace to the city. Her abuse of thazis is a public scandal. She deserves to be exiled.

“What do you suggest we do now, Investigator?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“I can’t really blame you for that,” sighs Lisutaris. “I have no idea what to do either.”

I’ve started to believe that there is no point investigating. Either someone is deliberately leading us on and mocking us at every turn, or the situation has become so chaotic that there is no point in doing anything. Either way, I’m beaten.

“If no one has any plans for saving the city, how about going to see Barius?” suggests Makri, brightly.

“Who is Barius?” asks Lisutaris.

“Professor Toarius’s son. I think he might be able to shed some light on Makri’s expulsion.”

Lisutaris offers to take us there in her carriage, which is waiting nearby. She doesn’t feel like going home, fearing that she will once more be confronted by an inquisitive Sorcerer or curious government official.

“Six more deaths in the city today,” I say. “Brings the total to twenty-seven, near as I can count. For that many unexplained deaths the Abode of Justice will call in a Sorcerer. Old Hasius the Brilliant will learn every detail of the affair.”

“Not for a long time,” says Lisutaris. “The moons are way out of conjunction.”

For a Sorcerer to look back in time, it’s necessary for the three moons to be in a particular alignment. According to Lisutaris, we’re in the middle of one of the longest blank periods of the decade. I’d have known that if I wasn’t so lousy at sorcery.

“It’ll be months before Sorcerers can look back in time. If that wasn’t the case I’d have been looking back myself.”

The carriage takes us towards Kushni. The driver shouts at some revellers who are blocking the street. They look like they might be inclined to argue over right of way, but when they recognise Lisutaris’s rainbow livery on the side of the carriage, they hastily move, not wishing to be blasted by a spell.

“Do you think we should revise our bet?” asks Makri. “The three of us have ended up placing a bet on thirty-five deaths. But with the count now at twenty-seven this may not be high enough.”

Lisutaris manages a grim laugh.

“True. And if the Consul freezes my assets before bringing me to trial, I may be in need of some money to pay for a lawyer. What’s the cut-off point for this wager?”

Makri looks a little uncomfortable.

“Well, you know, when the case comes to an end. . . .”

“And when would that be?”

“When Thraxas solves it. Or gets killed. Or you get arrested.”

Lisutaris is shocked.

“The Turanian masses are gambling on me being arrested?”

“Only tangentially,” says Makri.

“Have they no respect for the head of the Sorcerers Guild?”

“Don’t complain,” I tell the Sorcerer. “It’s not as bad as betting on me dying.”

“I think Lisutaris dying also brings the betting to an end,” says Makri, helpfully. “But no one is really expecting that to happen. Apart from Parax the shoemaker; I think he wagered a little on Lisutaris’s death. And maybe one or two others. Captain Rallee as well. But not many. It’s definitely not as popular an option as Thraxas handing in his toga. Do you have any thazis?”

We smoke Lisutaris’s thazis sticks as we make our way through the busy streets. Even in the tense situation I appreciate the high quality of her narcotic.

“Grown in your own gardens?”

“Yes. Or rather, in the glasshouse I built last year.”

“You have a glasshouse?”

“A special construction,” explains the Sorcerer. “For protecting plants from the elements and maximising the sunlight that feeds them. They were first used in Simnia. I believe mine is the first in Turai.”

I’ve never heard of such a thing, and once more marvel at Lisutaris’s dedication to her favourite substance. Thazis is imported into Turai from the southeast, where it’s extensively cultivated. Though I’ve known people to occasionally produce their own plants, I don’t think anyone else in the city is capable of growing it in volume. A glasshouse. I would hardly have believed it was possible. It must have been extremely expensive.

“Fabulously expensive,” agrees Lisutaris. “But with the amount of rain we have in Turai, nothing else will do.”

Lisutaris turns sharply to Makri.

“Why has Captain Rallee placed a bet on me dying?” she demands. “Has he some inside information?”

Makri doesn’t think so, but Lisutaris is troubled. Maybe it’s the thazis. Overuse can lead to feelings of paranoia. I ask Makri casually if many people are betting money on me dying.

“Hundreds of people,” answers Makri. “It’s a strong favourite. The moment the Brotherhood got involved, money started pouring in.”

“I’m damned if I’m going to die just to win money for a lot of degenerates in the Avenging Axe. You think the Brotherhood worries me? Anyway, I thought this betting was just on the body count?”

Makri shrugs.

“It sort of grew. Moxalan was getting so many enquiries he had to take on an assistant and widen his range.”

The carriage pulls up and we climb out into the dusty street. Lisutaris is clad in her rainbow cloak. Possibly fatalistic by now, she makes no attempt to disguise herself as we stride into the Rampant Unicorn, a tavern on the outskirts of Kushni where, I’m told, Barius is often to be found. It’s yet another appalling den of iniquity, and at the sight of the head of the Sorcerers Guild striding through the doors, the place goes quiet. Several customers, presuming that Lisutaris must be here on official business, and whatever this business is it can’t be good for them, scurry for cover as the Mistress of the Sky heads towards the bar.

“I am looking for a young man by the name of Barius,” she says.

“He’s upstairs,” blurts the barman, quaking as he imagines the effect a spell from a disgruntled Sorcerer might have on him.

“This way,” says Lisutaris, leading myself and Makri up the stairs. She’s looking pleased with herself.

“I have never investigated anything before. It does not seem to be overly difficult.”

I stifle a sarcastic response, and follow Lisutaris to one of four doors that lead off the upstairs corridor. Lisutaris tries the first door. Finding it locked, she mutters a minor word of power and it springs open. Inside the private room we find a stout man in a toga in the embrace of a woman who’s young enough to be his granddaughter, but probably isn’t a relation.

“I beg your pardon, Senator Alesius,” says Lisutaris grandly, and leads us back into the corridor.

“Well, that spoiled his afternoon’s entertainment,” I say. “The thing about investigating, you don’t just barge through the first door you come to.”

“And how did you expect me to choose?”

“It’s a matter of experience and intuition,” I explain. “You develop it after a few years in the business.”

“Very well,” says Lisutaris, motioning to the three remaining doors. “Which do you recommend?”

I select the door on the left. Lisutaris again mutters a word of power and it springs open. Inside we find a well-dressed middle-aged woman with plenty of jewels and a younger man, naked, who looks like he might be a professional athlete, both of them very busy with a pipe full of dwa.

“I beg your pardon, Marwini,” says Lisutaris, and withdraws from the room, quite elegantly. Makri and I stumble out after her, rather embarrassed at the whole thing.

“Who was that?”

“Praetor Capatius’s wife,” says Lisutaris. “Really, I had no idea. One always understood that they were a contented couple. Only last week she informed me over a glass of wine that she had never felt happier with her husband.”

“Probably because he’s coming home less.”

“Is this sort of behaviour standard all over Kushni?”

“Pretty standard,” I reply. “Though they might have to find a new place to misbehave if you keep using spells to open doors.”

“I want to pick the next room,” says Makri.

Inside the next room we find Barius. He’s lying semiconscious on a couch. The room stinks of dwa. From the overpowering aroma and general squalidness of the situation, I’d say he’d been lying here for a few days.

“I picked the right room,” says Makri, happily.

“You only had two doors to choose from.”

“That’s not the point. You were wrong and I was right.”

“It’s completely the point. The odds were entirely different.”

“Do you two never stop bickering?” says Lisutaris. “Here is your suspect. What do you do now?”

“Waken him up, if that’s possible.”

There’s a pitcher of stale water beside the couch. I take a lesada leaf from the small bag on my belt and try getting Barius to swallow it. It’s a difficult process and I’m careful in case Barius chooses this moment to vomit. Finally I succeed in making him swallow the leaf.

“Now we wait. Lisutaris, please lock the door again.”

Elvish lesada leaves are extremely efficient in cleansing the system of any noxious substances. They’re hard to get hold of in the Human lands and normally I’d be reluctant to waste one on a dwa addict who’s only going to fill himself full of dwa again at the first opportunity, but I don’t have time to wait for Barius to come round naturally. A few minutes after he’s swallowed the leaf, the colour is returning to his skin and his pupils are reverting to their normal size. He coughs, and struggles to rise. I give him more water.

“Who are you?”

“Thraxas. Investigator.”

“Investigator . . . from Ve . . . Vee. . . .” he gasps.

“No. Not from the Venarius Agency. I’m independent and I can help you.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to ask you a few questions.”

Possibly the lesada leaf has done its job too well. Barius has regained some youthful vigour and defiance.

“Go to hell,” he says, and struggles to rise from the couch. I place my arm on his shoulder and hold him down. Makri is by my side. I can sense her impatience. If Barius has any information that can help to clear her name, she’s not going to let him leave the room without imparting it. Lisutaris meanwhile looks bored, and in the sordid, foul-smelling room, less like she’s having a good time.

I ask Barius if he knew about the theft of the money at the Guild College. He gives an impression of a young man too confused by dwa addiction to know much about anything. I’m about to make some threats about telling his father and all his snooty relatives just what he gets up to in his spare time when Makri’s patience snaps.

Makri has two swords with her, one Elvish and gleaming and one Orcish and dark. She brought the Orcish blade from the gladiator pits and received the Elvish sword as a gift from the Elves on Avula. Both fine weapons, as fine as any held by anyone in Turai. Either one would fetch enough at auction to pay for Makri’s classes for a year or more, but Makri will never sell a weapon. She draws both of her swords. The light from the torch on the wall reflects brightly off the Elvish blade, but the Orcish sword seems to absorb light. It’s a vile weapon, and caused great offence to the Elves when Makri took it to their islands. Makri deftly positions the black Orcish sword under Barius’s chin.

“Tell us about the money or I’ll kill you right now,” she says.

Barius realises she’s serious. He looks at me fearfully, waiting for me to protect him. I look up at the ceiling. Makri pushes her sword forward. A trickle of blood appears on Barius’s throat. Barius cringes backwards, then tries to shrug as if unconcerned.

“So I took five gurans from a locker. Who cares?”

“I do, you cusux,” says Makri, raising her sword. “For the price of a shot of dwa, you’d ruin my life?”

I raise my hand to block Makri’s arm.

“It’s okay, we’ve got what we came for. We can go.”

“Have you got what you came for?” enquires Lisutaris. “Will such a confession under duress stand up in court?”

“There isn’t going to be any court case. Professor Toarius is going to quietly reinstate Makri when I tell him that his son stole the money for dwa and I have witnesses to that effect. The Professor is of course very keen to protect the family name, which is no doubt why he was so quick to pin the rap on Makri in the first place.”

Barius is shaking. I place my arm round him and lower him back on to the couch. He can sleep it off. Then he should go home, but I doubt he will. It’s not my problem. I’m concerned to learn that the Venarius Investigation Agency has already got to him. I still don’t know who hired them. Outside the Rampant Unicorn, Lisutaris shudders, rather delicately.

“What a disgusting place. I am astonished that Marwini should choose to have an assignation in such a location. Who on earth was that naked young man?”

“One of the King’s athletes, I think. On his way up in the world. Or down, maybe, if Praetor Capatius catches him.”

“It’s all rather embarrassing,” says Lisutaris. “Marwini is one of my guests at the ball tomorrow. As is Senator Alesius. I am not so surprised to find him here, of course. His behaviour is well known in certain circles.”

“So can I do my examination now?” says Makri.

“I’ll see Toarius tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“When is this examination?” asks Lisutaris.

“The day after tomorrow.”

“So soon? Will you still be able to attend my ball as my bodyguard?”

“Of course,” says Makri. “I’ve already completed my studies. But did I tell you I have to stand up and speak to the whole class? It’s really stressful.”

Makri is still complaining as we climb into Lisutaris’s carriage. One problem solved, more or less. Now we only have the matter of an important pendant to find, followed by Thraxas being hauled before a Senate committee on an allegation of cowardice. Somehow I can’t concentrate. It’s just so annoying the way Lisutaris, the so-called Mistress of the Sky, flatly refuses to invite me to her masked ball. I suppose it’s only to be expected. The upper classes of Turai are notorious for their degeneracy and ingratitude. Adultery. Dwa. Corruption. All manner of disgusting behaviour. An honest working man like myself is far better off not associating with them.

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