Thraxas and the Oracle

Chapter Six

I regard my new members of staff with suspicion. One young male sorcerer, not tall, quite dark-skinned, from somewhere south I’d say. The rainbow motif of the Sorcerers Guild is embroidered on his cloak in a curious fashion I’ve seen before but can’t remember where. The other is a pale young Elf, even younger, with spiky yellow hair, a dull green tunic, and small bow slung across her back.

“This is - “ begins Anumaris.

“I know who this is. Sendroo-ir-Vallis, from Avula. Commonly known as Droo. One of the most intoxicated young Elves ever seen in these or any parts.” I glare at her. “You’ve been assigned to my security staff?”

The young Elf beams at me. “My Commander recommended me for special work!”

“Probably to get rid of you. You do appreciate we’re engaged in dangerous war business here? Apart from drinking wine, writing poetry and falling out of trees, do you have any other qualifications?”

“Sendroo has an excellent record in her Elvish unit,” says Anumaris, briskly. For a young sorcerer, Anumaris does conduct herself with an air of confidence and efficiency. I’m not sure I like it.

“I believe Lisutaris placed her here because you know her already, and it’s good to have a contact with the Elves.”

That may be, but Droo isn’t the contact I’d have chosen. She’s around eighteen, and from what I remember of my visit to the Isle of Avula, she was a friendly enough Elf, but I never saw any sign of an aptitude for intelligence work. If the wartime situation wasn’t so serious, I’d think that Lisutaris was mocking me.

“What rank are you?”

“Junior Ensign, Elvish Reconnaissance Regiment, temporarily seconded to the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment.” Droo is still beaming. Anumaris moves things along. “This is Rinderan, from the Sorcerers Guild of the Southern Hills. He’s a Senior Ensign in the Sorcerers Regiment.”

I remember where I’ve seen the curiously embroidered motif before. Princess Direeva wore the same device when she visited Turai during the great Sorcerers Assemblage at which Lisutaris was elected head of the Guild. I’m interested to learn that Direeva - now Queen, and ruler of the Southern Hills - has sent us a sorcerer. Direeva is an ally of the West, but she’s in a very exposed position. Her realm lies in the southern part of the wastelands and faces continual threat from hostile Orcish nations. Direeva and her Guild are renowned for the power of their sorcery. It’s kept them safe till now, but I doubt she’d be able to withstand the full force of an attack from Prince Amrag’s army.

“What’s the situation in the Southern Hills?”

“Orcish forces are nearby but have not yet attacked. Queen Direeva will not give in to them, or allow them free access to the coast.”

That’s good to hear, for the moment anyway. Were the Southern Hills to fall, the Orcish navy would have access to a lot of good anchorage. I look at Rinderan. I often find it irritating meeting new sorcerers. They tend to remind me of my own past failures in the magic arts. Still, if he’s been sent by Queen Direeva he’s probably got a reasonable amount of power. That will probably be useful if we’re to find Deeziz.

“Have you ever been in combat?”

“No,” he admits. “I was too young for the last war.”

Another young rookie. My so-called staff have probably never seen a war dragon or a hostile Orc. If my regiment ends up advancing towards the enemy, I hope I’ve got some more experienced warriors by my side. I may be one of the most renowned fighters ever to buckle on a sword and march east, but I can’t do it all myself. I take a seat at my desk. With my three members of staff in front of me, I’m briefly reminded of my days as a Senior Investigator at the Imperial Palace in Turai. That seems like a very long time ago.

“Commander Lisutaris believes that Deeziz the Unseen is on her way here to spy on us. We can’t allow that to happen. If she manages to infiltrate our senior command there’s no telling what harm she’ll do. At the very least, she’ll pass information about our plans to the enemy. At worst, she might assassinate our commanders, or sabotage supply lines. We have to find her and stop her.”

“Surely no Orcish Sorcerer could arrive in secret?” says Rinderan. “Our sorcerers would detect her.”

“She’s already proved she can do it. She came into Turai and no one spotted her. Completely fooled the Turanian security services, which admittedly wasn’t all that difficult. But she fooled Lisutaris too, which is difficult. She fooled me too, which is next to impossible. We’ve underestimated the Orcish Sorcerers Guild for a long time.”

“Then how can we find her? She could be anywhere.”

“Good point.” I reach out for a beer. I realise there’s no beer on my desk. I look at Anumaris. “What happened to my beer?”

“What beer?”

“The beer you should have brought me as part of your duties.”

“That’s not part of my duties. Lisutaris told me - “

“I’m your commanding officer. I say what your duties are. Where was I?”

“The Orcish Sorcerers Guild.”

“Right. They’re powerful. Foul Orcs, but powerful. Their army is a lot better organised too. I saw their phalanxes outside Turai. If we’re going to defeat them we need everyone to pull their weight. Not, for instance, refuse to carry out orders from their commanding officer when he requests a ready supply of beer.”

My three members of staff are looking confused. I realise I might have strayed off course a little. “The point is, we need to be well-organised in our search. Deeziz might be anywhere but I think she’ll try and infiltrate our ranks at the highest level possible. That means everyone at headquarters is a suspect.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes. Apart from me. And Lisutaris and Makri. I’ve been with them constantly since Turai fell. I know they’re actually who they say they are. For everyone else, I want a background check. The guards on duty, the junior ranks, the senior ranks, everyone. Everyone who’s close to Lisutaris needs to be checked out. Make sure they didn’t suffer any mysterious disappearance on the way here, or have any time they can’t account for. Any one of these people could actually be Deeziz.”

“The people we’re meant to check on - does it include the commanders? General Hemistos? Bishop-General Ritari?”

“Yes. Droo, you’re to question them about their movements in the past month. Anumaris and Rinderan, you use your sorcery to probe for anything suspicious.”

“They’re not going to like that,” says Anumaris.

“Probably not. Be discreet if you can. But if you can’t be discreet, don’t worry about it. I’m in charge of Lisutaris’s personal security so I have the authority. Any complaints, refer them to me. Or I should say, try and get rid of them first. But if you can’t get rid of them, refer them to me.”

Junior Ensign Droo grins, and salutes, enthusiastically. Rinderan and Anumaris, rather less so.

“Meanwhile I’ll be conducting searches around town, looking to pick up information in places of interest before we leave. Any further questions?”

There being no further questions, I send my staff out to begin their work. I place a minor locking spell on my door, and settle down on the couch to complete my unfinished nap. I’m satisfied with my day’s work. It doesn’t take long for me to get things moving. Thraxas, number one chariot at investigating. I’m just drifting off when there’s a heavy knock on my door. I attempt to ignore it. It comes again, louder.

“Thraxas, I know you’re in there.”

I curse. It’s Makri. I know from experience there’s no point in trying to ignore her. She’d only break the door down. I drag myself off the couch and haul the door open.

“Is this important? I was engaged in some serious work.”

“You were sleeping on the couch.” Makri strides into the room, smiling broadly. She doesn’t smile broadly all that often.

“What are you looking so happy about?”

“Gurd and Tanrose. I didn’t think we’d see them again. I missed them.”

“I missed them too. I thought old Gurd might have finally handed in his toga, without me there to protect him.”

“And we’re finally ready to march! We’re going to kick these Orcs out of Turai!”

Makri grew up as an Orcish gladiator, in effect a slave. She hates them bitterly. “Do you think the Orcs will come out and fight? Or will they hide in Turai?”

“I don’t know. Whatever they do, they’ll make life difficult for us. Prince Amrag’s a good Commander.”

Makri looks at me quizzically. “Did you just compliment an Orc?”

“Maybe. There’s no point pretending he’s not a good Commander. He’s given us the runaround so far. Are you going to tell Lisutaris that you’re related to him?”

“No.”

Makri is Amrag’s sister, or half-sister. She has a complicated ancestry which she’s never fully explained. Amrag is older than her, and lacks her Elvish blood, but they’re related. No one knows that except me. I’ve told her she should inform Lisutaris but she refuses. Understandable, I suppose. She’s had a tough enough time without giving people an excuse to be even more suspicious of her.

“Makri, do you have to keep grinning like that? It’s unnatural.”

“I thought you’d be happy too. You’re always going on about what a great soldier you were. Aren’t you looking forward to some fighting?”

“I might be, if I wasn’t stuck in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment with a bunch of callow incompetents.”

“Callow incompetents?”

“You know Lisutaris assigned Droo to my unit? What am I meant to do with an eighteen-year-old Elf who’s only life experience is sitting in trees writing poetry? As for Anumaris Thunderbolt, she has some sort of mania against alcohol. Hardly a minute passes but she’s lecturing me about not drinking so much. I suspect Lisutaris has deliberately assigned me the most unsuitable staff out of spite.”

Makri laughs. “Or perhaps she just doesn’t want you rolling around drunk when you’re meant to be investigating. You should follow her example. She’s really cut down on her thazis intake since she was made War Leader.”

“So she claims. She’s probably still sucking it up in private. Anyway, you wouldn’t catch me and Gurd going into battle without a few ales inside us. Ale is the bedrock of a good phalanx. Not that there’s any chance of me being in a good phalanx while I’m shepherding these untrained youths around the place. She’s sent me this sorcerer called Rinderan from the Southern Hills and he’s never even been in combat. Probably flee at the first sign of a dragon.”

“We’ve all got to make sacrifices. We’re engaged in important business.”

I glower at Makri. “Since when did you become the voice of wisdom?”

“Since I became Ensign Makri in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment, bodyguard to our War Leader, Commander Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky. I’ve put aside all frivolities for the duration of the war. Nothing will affect my concentration on the job in hand and I advise you to adopt the same attitude.”

Makri draws herself up, looks serious, and opens the door. “I’ll see you on the march, Captain Thraxas.”

Makri can be hard to take at the best of times. This new, responsible version is worse than most. She departs. I head for the couch. Before I can reach it the door bursts open and Makri flies into the room.

“Hide me!” she cries, before slamming the door shut and diving behind the makeshift couch.

Rather puzzled, I look down at her crouching figure. “What’s the matter?”

“See-ath!”

“What?”

“See-ath! The Elf from Avula. he’s outside in the corridor. I can’t let him see me.”

“Is See-ath the one - “

“Yes!” hisses Makri.

Poor Makri. She’s strongly attracted to Elves. Elves, unfortunately, tend to be suspicious of her because of her Orcish blood. That’s not to say they don’t find her attractive. Most people find Makri attractive, particularly in the chainmail bikini she wore as a barmaid. But when she did finally get her chance, and embarked on a brief fling with a young Elf on the Isle of Avula, it didn’t end well. So I understand, anyway. She’s never volunteered many details of the affair.

I look at her with interest. “What happened to 'I’ve put aside all frivolities for the duration of the war?'”

“That was before I knew See-ath was here.”

“You can’t spend the whole war hiding behind my couch.”

“Why not?”

“We have to march north tomorrow, for one thing. Is it really so bad seeing him again?”

“Yes.”

“Come on Makri, people have unfortunate relationships all the time. So it didn’t work out. That’s not so bad. Maybe a little embarrassing, nothing more.”

“It’s a lot more.”

“Why? What happened on Avula?”

Makri, still hiding behind the couch, screws up her face. “Avula wasn’t so bad. It was afterwards.”

“Afterwards? But you didn’t see him afterwards.”

“I know. I was upset that he didn’t get in touch. I sent him some messages.”

“Messages? How?”

“By ship. And by sorcerer. Once by carrier pigeon.”

“I see. What did these messages say?”

“They started off saying I missed him and why hadn’t he got in touch? Then I got a little upset, and I... well... ”

“You threatened him with violence?”

“By the ninth message I told him I was going to chop his head off and feed it to a dragon. Maybe that was the tenth, I forget exactly.”

“I can see why things have become awkward. That’s not really normal behaviour.”

“I’m not very experienced at these things.”

I shake my head. Poor Makri.

“What’ll I do?” she wails.

“How about facing him manfully, or womanfully, if there is such a word, and discussing it?”

“Out of the question. I can never see him again.”

“Then what’s your plan?”

“Didn’t you once mention some place in the furthest west? I could flee there.”

“For goodness sake, Makri.” I drag her out from behind the couch. “You can’t hide forever. You might not even see him again. He’s young, isn’t he? That means he’s not a senior figure in the Elvish military. He probably just arrived at headquarters to deliver a message or something like that. Once the armies march tomorrow you’ll have thousands of men between you and him.”

Makri considers this. “You might be right. Could you check the corridor for me?”

I open the door and stick my head out. There’s no one there, Elvish or otherwise. “The coast is clear. Do you need me to walk you back to Lisutaris?”

Makri peers out into the corridor. “I’m all right. But don’t lock your door in case I need to run back here.”

With that, Makri, champion gladiator of the Orcish lands, undefeated in combat since she arrived in the West, winner of the great sword-fighting competition in Samsarina, and now personal bodyguard to the Commander of the Western Army, creeps furtively out into the corridor like a guilty schoolgirl returning late from her holidays. It’s a pathetic sight. I shake my head sadly, and finally mange to return to my couch for my long-delayed afternoon sleep.