Thraxas and the Elvish Isles

Chapter Twenty

Lord Kalith hosts a post-tournament reception at the Tree Palace. As the attendants open the doors for us, Makri receives plenty of congratulations for her success with Isuas. I’m not really surprised. Isuas might have been disqualified, but the Elves can tell a good fighter when they see one. When the next Orc War happens along, no one will care about fighting fairly.

The Palace is full of dignitaries. I see Lord Lisith-ar-Moh, who previously encountered Makri in Turai, congratulating Kalith.

“It was clever of you to hire her to train your daughter.”

“Indeed,” replies Kalith weakly.

Lady Yestar seeks us out.

“How is he taking it?” I ask, indicating her husband.

“Still getting used to it. The incident with the chair was a terrible shock. And no Elvish father likes to hear his daughter using Orcish oaths. But he is pleased, really. He used to worry terribly about Isuas’s weakness.”

“He won’t have to do that any more.”

Lady Yestar knows I’m not here to make polite conversation. I ask her if she can arrange for me to speak privately with Lord Kalith. A few minutes later Makri and I find ourselves ushered through a door on to a secluded balcony that overlooks the pools by the Hesuni Tree.

“What is it that is so important?”

“Elith-ir-Methet is innocent.”

Kalith’s eyes gleam with annoyance. “I have told you already—”

I interrupt him, rudely. “You can hear it first or you can hear it after I tell everyone else. Either way is fine with me.”

“Very well, Investigator.”

“Elith became addicted to dwa. It made her crazy, as you know. But she didn’t damage the Tree and she didn’t kill Gulas. Both crimes were committed by Lasas, Gulas’s brother. He damaged the tree to discredit Gulas because he was insanely jealous of his brother’s relationship with Elith. He loved her too, unfortunately. When you threw Elith in prison, Lasas spread it around that it was Gulas who accused her, which wasn’t true. Lasas had done the accusing after he found Elith conveniently unconscious at the scene of the crime. I don’t know if that was just lucky for Lasas, or if he saw to it that she had plenty of dwa at just the right moment. Either way, he harmed the Tree and made sure she took the blame. But that wasn’t the worst. He encouraged Elith to leave her confinement and confront Gulas, but Gulas was dead by the time she got there. Lasas drugged him and stabbed him. If you want proof, I’ve two Sorcerers who will testify that the priest was so full of dwa before he died he couldn’t have stood up, let alone talked.”

“This is insane,” protests Kalith.

“Not at all. I’m giving you a precise account of what happened, which I would have been able to do much earlier had you not obstructed me at every turn. When Elith arrived at the Hesuni Tree, Gulas was already dead in the bushes. Lasas then did something very cunning. He put on a hooded cloak and pretended to be Gulas, which wasn’t too difficult, given that Elith was again full of dwa, and only barely in touch with reality. He tormented her till she couldn’t take it any more. She picked up the knife that Lasas had left for her and lashed out at him. I don’t know if her stroke would have been lethal or not, but it didn’t matter. Lasas had taken the precaution of stealing one of your excellent cloaks of protection from the Tree Palace. A cloak that will turn any blade. And, as proof of that, I’ve already checked with your wardrobe attendant. He confirms that one of the protection cloaks that Sofius-ar-Eth made for you is missing. Lasas then crawled off into the bushes, hid the cloak, and pretended to arrive at the scene of the crime along with everyone else. Including Elves who had seen Elith stab Gulas, or so they thought.

“Which makes Elith innocent of all crimes. I admit she might be held to have attempted to murder someone, but that someone was dead long before she got there. Lasas, however, is about as guilty as an Elf can get. He damaged the Tree to discredit his brother and then he killed his brother through rage and jealousy and tried to pin the crime on the woman who had spurned him. I suggest you lock him up as soon as possible.”

Lord Kalith is doubtful.

“I believe it to be true,” says Gorith-ar-Del, stepping forward. “At the very least, we should subject Lasas-ar-Thetos to some stringent interrogation and have our Sorcerers investigate him in the greatest detail.”

“Are you telling me that my new Tree Priest is the one behind all my recent troubles? Did he initiate the importing of dwa on to Avula?”

“Interestingly enough, he didn’t,” I reply. “While he was busy trying to discredit his brother, the rival branch of the Tree Priest’s family was trying to discredit them both. They brought it in to start a scandal around the Hesuni Tree. I imagine they hoped that once it was known that Gulas couldn’t prevent the sacred Tree from being besmirched and abused, their claim to the Priesthood would be taken more seriously.”

“Do you have any proof of this allegation?”

“Not exactly. But ever since I started digging into the affair I’ve been under attack from various persons. Some of them were Human, probably sailors who’ve called here on the pretext of trade, but one of them was a very fine Elvish swordsman. Best swordsman on Avula in fact. Yulis-ar-Key. He was masked, but Makri recognises his style.”

Makri, quiet up till this moment, confirms this. Kalith considers my words.

“Yulis is head of the branch of the family who contest the Tree Priesthood,” I point out. “I think you’ll find it all adds up.”

“Have them brought to me—” commands Kalith, but that’s as far as he gets. No one has noticed the appearance of Yulis-ar-Key on the balcony. We soon notice that, while we are all without weapons, Yulis has somehow managed to procure two fine swords, which he brandishes menacingly.

“I will not be subjected to sorcerous examination like a common criminal,” he snarls.

“Why not?” I retort. “It would be entirely fitting.”

Yulis rushes at us. Things look bad till Makri steps into his path. Yulis brings each sword down at her. Almost quicker than the eye can see, Makri raises her arms, deflecting each blade with her metal wristbands. She then steps in and butts Yulis with her head. Yulis howls and drops his swords. As he goes down he grabs Makri by the leg and they crash through the thin fence at the edge of the balcony. They plunge over the edge into the pool, far below.

We stare over the edge. Elves are already running from all directions towards the water.

“She can’t swim,” I yell. There are some tense moments before Makri is hauled out by her rescuers. Moments later, Yulis struggles out of the pool and is immediately apprehended.

Lord Kalith looks down at the scene below. He frowns, and utters an Elvish oath.

“Did she have to fall right into the sacred pool?” he says. “I just had it ritually cleansed.”

Two days later I’m lounging on the grass in the large clearing, feeling satisfied. The plays have commenced. As I expected, I’m finding them a little highbrow for my tastes but I’ve a plentiful supply of beer and a fine reputation as an Investigator. Number one chariot, and no one can deny it. Elith is out of jail. It couldn’t be said that her name is exactly cleared. After all, she did go wild under the influence of dwa, and she did make an attempt on the life of an Elf she believed to be Gulas. But there are plenty of mitigating circumstances. Besides, whatever she might have meant to do, she didn’t actually kill anyone, and is innocent in the eyes of the law. Vas-ar-Methet has taken her home and has high hopes of rehabilitating her with his healing powers and the love of his family.

Yulis and Lasas are in prison. Both branches of the priestly family are now in disgrace. Lord Kalith will have some serious thinking to do before he makes a new appointment, but it can wait till after the festival, when the island is empty of visitors. Cicerius has expressed his satisfaction at the services I’ve performed on the island, and Kalith is too fair-minded not to be grateful.

Makri is now something of an Avulan hero, and not only for her amazing results with Isuas. The story of how she defeated the finest swordsman on the island without the aid of a weapon has been the talk of the festival. Isuas wishes to learn how to head-butt her opponents, and Droo has already composed several poems about the affair. She has also composed one about my investigating triumph, which she brought to my house.

“Droo likes you,” says Makri. “Strange, I never saw you as a father figure to disaffected young Elves.”

“Very funny. Is anything ever going to happen in this play?”

I’m bored with the drama. The Avulan version of the tale of Queen Leeuven is not stirring. Makri tells me that I’m missing the finer artistic points, but I long for something exciting to happen. I’m starting to agree with the Elves who regarded Sofius-ar-Eth as a poor choice of director.

“I’m puzzled about something,” says Makri, sipping beer. “Who were those masked Elves who kept chasing us round?”

“I don’t know. I’m puzzled myself. Part of the gang, I suppose, though they don’t seem to fit in.”

In front of us, Queen Leeuven is rallying her army. Suddenly, from nowhere, a huge crowd of spear-wielding villains appear on stage, march around for a few seconds, then disappear again. The crowd gasps. The masked Elves appear again and there is some frantic dramatic fighting as Queen Leeuven’s supporters battle with the spearmen, who magically vanish, only to reappear at the other side of the stage.

The crowd go wild, clapping and cheering at this new dramatic innovation.

“Right,” says Makri.

“Indeed. They were part of the play.”

“That must be why Kalith appointed a Sorcerer as his director.”

“He was trying to beef up the production.”

We stare at proceedings. I’m feeling a little foolish. All the time I thought they were after us they were just rehearsing for the festival.

“It’s low culture,” objects Makri. “Cheap stage effects detract from the drama.”

“I like it. But when I get back to Turai, I’m leaving this bit out of the story.”