Thraxas and the Dance of Death

Chapter Nineteen

The gardens are a scene of great revelry. Apart from the music, dancing, costumes and fine provisions on offer, there are spectacular lighting effects and frequent appearances of otherworldly creatures. The genteel crowds, thinking these to be part of Lisutaris’s sorcerous entertainment, are enchanted.

It seems that only Makri and I realise the danger. Makri tries to prevent the creatures from doing too much damage, which leads to the odd sight of a woman in Orcish armour walking round the gardens being followed by a long line of centaurs and unicorns. Centaurs, lascivious creatures at the best of times, can’t help being attracted to Makri—I saw it happen in the Fairy Glade—and while Makri does her best to shoo them away, they continue to follow her until the magic which has produced them becomes unstable and they fade into space. As for the unicorns, I don’t know why they should take to her. It’s not like she’s pure of heart.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” says a wealthy-looking pirate to his companion as a rather harassed Makri jogs past with a long line of mythical beasts in close pursuit. “Lisutaris has really laid on the entertainment.”

A bolt of blue lightning cracks the sky overhead.

“She’s the best Sorcerer in the city!” enthuses the pirate.

Meanwhile I’m looking for pendants. This is not so easy because Lisutaris’s bracelet keeps lighting up any time a naiad or mermaid appears. With so many false alarms it’s difficult to concentrate. When I notice two Makris at opposite ends of the gardens, one with unicorns and one without, I sprint towards the lone figure. I have a feeling that Makri’s imitator has something to do with all this. Seeing my approach, the figure flees into the bushes and I follow. Immediately I step into the undergrowth my bracelet lights up. There’s a man in a bishop’s costume bending down in the shadows to pick something up. I leap for him and wrestle the object out of his hands.

“That’s mine!” says the bishop.

I shove the pendant into my bag. He lets go with some language very unsuitable for a man of the cloth.

“You’ll thank me later,” I say, and hurry on. Some success at least. I find another pendant in a fountain full of mermaids and another in the hands of a Palace official who, while talking wildly about the coup he is planning to stage, is at least not yet dead. I retrieve the pendant and leave him to sleep off his dreams of power. I now have three pendants, but from the way a comet is currently hovering over the gardens, I’d say there were still more to be collected.

“Why did they all end up here?” I say out loud, angry and puzzled.

“I’m partly responsible,” says an elegant voice at my shoulder. It’s Horm the Dead, dressed as a mythical King of the Depths, complete with trident.

“I figured you would be.”

“It wasn’t my original plan,” confesses Horm. “When I finally got my hands on the pendant I intended to leave the city. Unfortunately I then located a second pendant and realised that someone had been duplicating them. In the past day I’ve come across rather a lot of them.”

“So you sent them all to Lisutaris’s ball?”

“It seemed like the helpful thing to do.”

Horm laughs.

“I have always wished to see what would happen when so many unsuitable sorcerous elements were brought together. With luck we may all disappear in an explosion which will flatten the entire city. Look above. The stars are multiplying in the sky.”

They do seem to be. A million extra points of light. The points grow larger, resolving into a vast shower of comets heading our way. They start raining down on the garden, each one tiny and brightly coloured. The guests applaud wildly.

“This is splendid,” enthuses Horm. “Everyone is about to die and they are all applauding. And you have the task of gathering pendants in a bag! Really, I’ve never seen anything so funny.”

There’s a movement in the bushes and Makri appears. Or rather, a woman in Orcish armour. I can tell immediately it’s not Makri. My senses go into overdrive as the woman pulls a pendant from her pocket and holds it towards me.

“Not so fast, Sarin!” I cry, and strike her so she falls heavily to the ground. I grab the pendant from her hands and thrust it in my bag.

“You think you can just wave a pendant in my face, do you?” I rip off her mask and stick my face close to hers. Unfortunately it is not Sarin. It’s Princess Du-Akai, the highest-ranking woman in all of Turai, third in line to the throne.

“Excuse me, Princess Du-Akai. There has been a misunderstanding.”

There’s no way I’m talking my way out of this one. You can’t strike a royal princess and get away with it. I’m heading for a prison galley.

“I was swimming with the dolphins,” mumbles the Princess, and looks confused.

Of course. She’s been looking at the pendant. She doesn’t realise what’s happening. Thank God for that. Unless she dies. That won’t be so good. I put her down gently. Horm the Dead is laughing so much he can hardly catch his breath. Not wishing to leave the Princess close to the malevolent Sorcerer, I cram her helmet back on her head, hoist her over my shoulder and march towards the house.

“Look after this woman,” I instruct a group of household servants. “She’s been drinking too much and needs to sleep it off.”

I am now completely fed up with everything. There seems to be no end in sight to this madness. There might be forty of these pendants scattered around here for all I know. I notice that some of the guests are now looking nervous as a new flock of centaurs stampede through a marquee and show less willingness to dematerialise, even when Makri threatens them with her swords. Lisutaris appears to quickly banish them by sorcery but it’s clear things are getting out of hand.

“It bit me!” complains a woman loudly to Lisutaris.

I need to know how many pendants there are. It’s time to threaten someone. I look around for the most senior household servant I can find.

“I have to find Lisutaris’s secretary right now. What costume is she wearing?”

“That would be a breach of etiquette, I’m afraid—”

I offer him a bribe. He looks uninterested. I take him by the neck and push him against the wall, ignoring the consternation this causes among his fellow servants.

“Spill it.”

“She’s wearing a wood nymph’s costume with yellow flowers!”

Now I’ve assaulted a princess and threatened Lisutaris’s staff. Not forgetting the spell I worked on Captain Rallee. The courts may have to invent some new sort of punishment to deal with my vast catalogue of crime.

I start hunting the gardens for a wood nymph with yellow flowers. Makri spots me and hurries to my side.

“Have you got all the jewels yet? No? You’d better hurry, things are getting out of hand. There are centaurs everywhere and they keep trying to chew my clothes off.”

“Centaurs are like that. Any deaths?”

“Maybe one or two. You want me to keep count for our bet?”

“No, I was just wondering how things were going. But now you mention it, keep a count anyway. I’m looking for Avenaris. I figure she can tell me how many jewels there are.”

“Lisutaris will be down on you like a bad spell if you bother her secretary.”

“I already searched her rooms.”

“You did?”

“I did. And found various Barius-related items. She’s been snuggling up with Professor Toarius’s son. And no doubt funding his dwa habit after his father cut him off.”

I tell Makri about Princess Du-Akai. Makri is annoyed to hear that a royal princess has been masquerading as an Orcish gladiator.

“I’m insulted.”

“That’s not the point. The point is I hit the Princess. If she remembers I’ll be executed.”

“We could fight our way out.”

“We might have to. Now help me look for Avenaris.”

By now the masked ball has become a fantastic affair of flashing illuminations and rampaging sorcerous beasts. It’s fabulous entertainment. I’d stop to enjoy it if I didn’t know the city was going to explode any minute. It’s difficult working our way through the crowds. Even among the garishly dressed revellers Makri’s unusual costume draws attention. My funny Cicerius mask gets a few smiles too, though not from Cicerius himself when I bump into him outside the green marquee. He stares balefully at me and I can see him trying to work out where he’s seen this large figure before.

“Wood nymph with yellow flowers over there,” yells Makri, and we set off in pursuit.

We catch up with Avenaris near the orchard.

“Don’t be too harsh with her,” suggests Makri.

A great blast overhead signals the arrival of another shower of small meteors, which thud into the ground around us.

“No time to be nice,” I grunt. I grab Avenaris, shove her into the darkness beneath the trees and rip my mask off.

“I need some answers and I need them right now.”

Avenaris shrinks back.

“Go away,” she pleads.

I point to the lights in the sky.

“You see all this? It’s getting out of control and it’s going to end in disaster unless I recover every duplicate pendant. So tell me how many there are.”

The secretary starts crying. Tears pour from under her mask. I take out my sword.

“There are dead people here already. Tell me what I want to know or I’ll kill you right now.”

“Help me!” wails Avenaris to Makri.

Makri draws her black Orcish sword.

“Sorry,” she says. “It’s time to talk.”

Avenaris slides down the trunk of a tree till she’s sitting with her back to it, looking like a child. She sniffs, and takes off her mask.

“I didn’t know all this was going to happen. I gave Barius the jewel. He needed money.”

“I know. For dwa. Bad choice for a boyfriend.”

“He said he would give it back. He was going to copy it and sell the copy. I didn’t know he would make so many.”

“How did he make the copies?”

“I stole a spell,” sniffs Avenaris. “From Lisutaris’s private library. Barius took it to a Sorcerer’s apprentice he knows.”

“You realise the danger you’ve put everyone in?”

Avenaris looks miserable, but whether it’s due to the trouble she’s caused I’m not sure. She might just be sad about her boyfriend’s problems.

“It was very disloyal to Lisutaris,” says Makri, disapprovingly.

Avenaris raises her head. A strange expression flickers across her face. I can’t read it exactly, but for a moment she looks almost defiant.

“I should have been the rich one,” she says. “My father was head of the family.”

She lowers her head and looks pathetic again.

“How many pendants did he make?”

“Fifteen. Then the spell wouldn’t work any more.”

“I have nine pendants in my bag. Lisutaris has three. That’s twelve. Four more to collect.”

“Three more,” says Makri, and takes one from her purse.

“You found one? And didn’t stare into it?”

“I have will power.”

We hurry off, leaving Avenaris crying under the trees. Three pendants to find, which quickly becomes two as we stumble across the body of a young man who’s still clutching one between his fingers. I scoop it into my bag. I hope that the red Elvish cloth will contain them as effectively as Lisutaris claims.

“Will the city really be flattened?” asks Makri.

“It’s possible.”

“But I’ve got an examination tomorrow. And I really studied hard for it.”

A unicorn trots out from the trees. They’re pleasant animals. I never thought I’d get so sick of seeing them. It approaches Makri and starts nuzzling her face.

“I just don’t see why these unicorns like you so much. It’s not like you’re a virgin.”

“Is that an insult?” says Makri, suspiciously.

“No, just a statement of fact.”

“I’m sure that virginity has nothing to do with it anyway,” says Makri, patting the unicorn. “It’s my sunny personality. Or maybe it’s the Elvish blood. Is this actually a real unicorn?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t show any sign of disappearing. Neither does that mermaid who’s hypnotising the man in a sailor’s costume. Come on, we have two pendants to find.”

My bracelet starts glowing. I climb into the fountain, bat the mermaid out of the way and scoop up another pendant. Only one more to go.

Lisutaris, in her splendid angel costume, arrives in the company of someone who might be Prince Frisen-Akan. His costume is rich enough for a prince, and he’s drunk, so it could be. On seeing us Lisutaris sends him gently on his way and asks about our progress.

“One more to go.”

“Are you sure only one is missing?”

“Yes.”

“Then we are finished,” proclaims the Sorcerer. “I have it. I found it with two Senators who’d taken it off a unicorn. They were about to fight. Fortunately I interrupted them before their venal dreams could drive them mad or kill them.”

Lisutaris breathes a great sigh of relief.

“I’m glad that’s all over. Thing were becoming hectic. I had to banish a troop of mountain trolls who were eating all the food, and the Consul got tangled up with an angry dryad. Unless that was just an angry citizen, it’s been hard to tell.”

We withdraw under the privacy of a clump of trees. It’s a hot night and sweat is running down my face beneath my mask. Makri removes her helmet to wipe her brow. Lisutaris takes the bag of pendants, adds the jewels to the contents she already has, then rummages around inside. After a few moments she draws out a jewel.

“This is the real one.”

“How can you tell?”

“I’m head of the Sorcerers Guild.”

“You were fooled by an imitation before.”

“I didn’t have the rest to compare then. Besides, I had to show the Consul something.”

I take the pendant in my hand. It seems the same as all the others. But you have to trust Lisutaris on matters like this. She’s number one chariot in all matters of sorcery. I hand it back.

“Congratulations,” comes a familiar voice. It’s Horm the Dead, still in costume.

Lisutaris greets him coldly.

“I do not believe I invited you.”

“I did not wish to miss such a glittering occasion. Or the chance of meeting Makri again.”

He bows to Makri, who looks uncomfortable, and may be blushing. In the shadow of the trees it’s hard to tell. Horm looks at the pendant in Lisutaris’s hand.

“You know, I went to some trouble to send these all to your ball. Some I retrieved by sorcery . . . Casax for instance seemed unwilling to hand his over to me—some I bought, which involved rather large payments to Sarin—some I acquired from people I . . . removed.”

“Tough luck,” I say. “Your plan failed.”

“My plan?”

“To cause such sorcerous instability that a disaster happened.”

“Yes,” agrees Horm. “That would have been excellent. But that was not exactly my plan. Merely an entertaining lie. I still intend to take the pendant back to Prince Amrag. Till they were all gathered together, I could not be certain which was the original. And since you, Lisutaris, had already managed to retrieve one of the pendants, I felt that here would be as good a place as any to bring them all together. And now you have picked out the real one for me.”

“Your power does not equal mine, Horm the Dead.”

“You are mistaken. It does. But we do not have to battle each other now. You will simply hand over the original pendant to me and I will not drop this handful of powder on your bag.”

“What?”

“My own preparation. It will rot the red Elvish cloth in a matter of seconds. Unprotected by the magical barrier provided by the cloth, the fifteen pendants in close proximity to each other will, I believe, cause a sorcerous event of such magnitude that few of your guests will survive.”

Horm turns his head towards me.

“Please do not try any sudden movement. I am quite prepared for it, and you will die. Lisutaris, the pendant.”

We seem to be stuck. It’s the sort of moment a man needs to think of a quick plan. I don’t come up with anything. Horm lets a little dust trickle from his fingers. The Elvish cloth starts to decay before our eyes.

“You will still have a fake jewel for fooling the Consul,” says Horm, and holds out his hand. Lisutaris has no choice. Everyone here will die. She hands over the original. Horm tucks the pendant into the folds of his costume and then, unexpectedly, he removes his mask. He moves a step closer to Makri and leans towards her, quite slowly. He kisses her lightly on her lips. Makri doesn’t move at all. Horm steps back.

“You will one day visit my Kingdom,” he says, before turning on his heel and hurrying off, leaving Makri looking embarrassed.

Horm doesn’t get far. A masked figure steps swiftly out from behind a tree with a short club in his hand and slugs Horm on the back of the head. Horm crumples to the ground. It’s nice work. Moving swiftly, the figure reaches down to wrench the pendant from Horm’s grasp.

“Good work, Demanius,” I say.

The masked figure looks over in surprise.

“I recognised the clubbing action. Now give the pendant to Lisutaris and we’ll get rid of Horm.”

The Investigator draws his mask up, revealing his features.

“Can’t do that, Thraxas. I’m working for Rittius at the Palace. The pendant goes to him.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m not paid to argue.”

It’s intolerable. We go through all this and the pendant still isn’t coming home. I’m still trying to work through the ramifications of Demanius returning the pendant to Rittius at Palace Security when the Investigator makes to leave.

“Stop him,” cries Lisutaris.

Demanius, almost at the edge of the trees, jerks backwards. For a moment I think that Lisutaris has halted him with a spell. Then, as his body spins and falls, I notice a crossbow bolt sticking from his chest. Another masked figure, tall and slender, darts from behind the tree. She grabs the pendant and leaps into the crowd, disappearing immediately among the throng. Sarin the Merciless. I wondered where she’d got to.

[Contents]