Thraxas and the Oracle

Chapter Three

We’re in the wealthy part of town where there are mansions, villas and temples. We have to walk a few streets south before we come to a tavern. Anumaris hesitates. “What’s the matter?

Haven’t you ever been in a tavern before?”

She shakes her head.

“Never?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

I’m astonished. I hardly know what to say. Twenty-two years old and never been in a tavern? My first thought is that she might be suffering from some sort of mental deficiency. A fear of crowds, perhaps. However she joined the Sorcerers Regiment, so she can’t be all that scared of company. Perhaps her parents didn’t approve of her visiting Turai’s many drinking haunts. Young Anumaris is rather well-spoken. Not an aristocrat, but a daughter of the land-owning gentry. No doubt they were a respectable family. She looks very dubiously at the sign above the door. The King’s Shield.

“Is it safe?”

“Safe? How sheltered has your life been?”

“Not sheltered at all!” Anumaris is offended. “I just haven’t had occasion to visit taverns. I grew up on the family estate. Then I went to sorcerers college. Everyone considered that quite daring.”

I’m about to let go with some hearty criticism of her, her family estate, and sorcerers college, but I restrain myself. She did appear on the battlefield outside Turai, after all, and stood up to the enemy attack when plenty of others crumbled. She must have something about her.

“Enough discussion.” I open the door and march inside. The young sorcerer follows me in. The tavern is crowded and noisy, the same as every other tavern in Samsarina, with mercenaries and off-duty soldiers taking the opportunity for some last minute revelry before we march off to war. There’s a contingent of market workers close to the bar. I’m obliged to use my body-weight to force my way through, pulling Anumaris behind me.

“You see that? Take that as your first lesson in investigation. When there’s a crowd in front of you, preventing you from reaching the bar, there’s no point messing around asking them politely to step out the way. It’ll get you nowhere. Just look for their weak spot and force your way through.

“What does that have to do with investigation?”

“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said? A tavern is the best place for gathering information. Whatever’s going on in a city you’ll find out about it here. Back in Turai I sometimes had to visit seven or eight in a day. Barmaid, two tankards of ale please.”

“Could I have a glass of water?” says Anumaris.

“Only if you want to mark yourself out as a hopeless outsider who will never be any good at security work, thereby letting down the armies of the west and probably leading to our ultimate defeat. Now take this tankard and try not to look like someone who grew up riding ponies in a frilly dress.”

Anumaris Thunderbolt scowls at me. She sips the ale, and makes a face.

“Once you’ve got that inside you you’ll be half-way to making a decent investigator.”

“But Lisutaris said - ”

“Enough about Lisutaris. There’s no need to talk about her continually. She has her job to do and we have ours.”

“I really don’t see what we’re doing here!”

“We’re looking for anything strange. Just keep your eyes and ears open. If we don’t come across anything untoward, we’ll move on to the next tavern.” I scan the crowd. “When Deeziz the Unseen came to Turai, she disguised herself as a popular singer called Moolifi. I’ll be interested to learn if any foreign singers have arrived in Samsarina recently.”

“Surely she wouldn’t try the same thing again?”

“Probably not, but it’s all we have to go on.”

Anumaris is dissatisfied. “Deeziz could disguise herself as a tavern worker, or a market vendor. Any woman at all. Lisutaris thinks she might even be able to disguise herself as a man. How can we possibly find her? It seems hopeless.”

I drink down a good portion of ale. “Investigations often seem hopeless at first. That doesn’t mean you don’t make a start. You do what you can, and keep going till something turns up. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe Deeziz will make a mistake. Maybe Lisutaris’s sorcerers will come up with something. Either way, we keep on trying.”

Anumaris seems reasonably impressed by my little speech. It doesn’t prevent her from looking at me disapprovingly when I grab a second beer from the bar. I tell her to stop complaining.

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“You were thinking about it. Save your anti-beer fanaticism for some other time. And try engaging in some conversation with people. We’re here to gather information.”

“I’m not very good at talking to strangers.”

“Then you’ll have a fantastic career as an investigator. If you can’t talk to anyone, listen to me, and learn how it’s done.”

I’ve never had any problem talking to strangers. Mostly I’ve made my living from it. At this moment, in this tavern, it’s easier than usual because of my Captain’s insignia, which does grant me a degree of respect. It’s obvious to everyone that I’m not one of those officers who’s been promoted due to family connections. I’m a man who’s seen plenty of combat. Hardened in battle, I like to think. I talk to soldiers, mercenaries, barmaids and traders, mostly about the approaching war. I learn a lot about the hopes and fears of the population though nothing that points to anything unusual. I have a feeling that if Deeziz the Unseen has arrived in Samsarina, there should already be some sign of her presence. What that sign might be, I don’t know, and I don’t pick up on anything.

I do notice that the mood is reasonably optimistic, even though everyone knows we’re in for a tough campaign. Prince Amrag’s reputation as a military Commander has spread throughout the West. He’s hated, like any Orcish leader, but people aren’t making the mistake of dismissing his talents. He’s got his Orcish phalanxes well organised and his cavalry well trained. The various Orcish nations are displaying more unity and discipline than they ever have before. Not only that, the Orcish Sorcerers Guild’s control of dragons is more fearsome than ever. When you consider that our army won’t be as large as we’d hoped, you might wonder why there’s any optimism around. Partly it’s because the Elves have arrived, and they have a very high reputation. Partly it’s because for most people the war hasn’t really started yet. Samsarina, Simnia and Nioj have yet to suffer any casualties. Before their armies march out, it’s easy for people to imagine everything going well, with a swift victory and a glorious return. It rarely works out that way.

“Or perhaps it just because we’re in a tavern and everyone is full of beer,” I mutter to myself. For Turanians, the war started some time ago, and it hasn’t gone well. I think about all the friends and comrades I’ve lost. I feel my mood worsening.

In the second tavern we visit, Anumaris Thunderbolt flatly refuses to drink any more alcohol. She asks the barmaid for a glass of water, which causes some mockery to which I don’t take too kindly. I’m still sensitive about being placed in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment. They don’t have a great reputation for fighting or drinking.

“Are you trying to humiliate me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Drinking water is making the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment look bad.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” says Anumaris. “Anyway, I’m not in the SAR. I’m in the Sorcerers Regiment.”

“Even worse,” I mutter. “Let’s find another tavern.”

“I really think - ”

“I’ve had enough of you thinking. When we get back I’m going to ask Lisutaris for some staff who aren’t hopeless young prigs with no experience of war or drinking. If she expects me to babysit you through this campaign she’s greatly mistaken.”

The young sorcerer looks hurt. I ignore her and march out through the door. In the street outside I bump into a brawny grey-haired barbarian. I’m about to tell him to watch where he’s going when he suddenly cries out.

“Thraxas!”

“Gurd!”

I can’t believe it. Gurd, my oldest companion, still alive.

“Gurd! I thought you were dead!”

“Me? No Orc is getting the better of me.”

“Where’s Tanrose?”

“She’s here too.”

The news that Tanrose, finest cook in Twelve Seas, escaped the wreckage of Turai, brings unaccustomed joy to my heart. Her unmatched stew and pie-making skills were one of the few things that made life in Turai worth living. I’m moved to embrace Gurd. I can’t remember the last time I embraced anyone.

“I thought I’d find you here, you dog,” he roars, and pounds me on the back. “Have you joined the Turanian regiment?”

“No, I’m with Lisutaris. Important work for the War Leader!”

“Can it wait?”

“Of course,” I cry. “We need to find a tavern.” I turn to Anumaris. “Investigating is finished for the day. I need to talk to Gurd.”

“I don’t think - ”

“No one cares what you think,” I tell her curtly. Then I give Gurd another hearty clap on the shoulder and we go off in search of a tavern to celebrate our joint survival, and catch up with each other’s news. Finding Gurd alive is the only good thing that’s happened in a long time.