Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Eight

I’m used to being abused by officials. Often on a case I end up being told by a Prefect or Captain of the Guard how much better Turai would be without me. I’ve been lectured by the best of them, but nothing compares to the lecture Cicerius gives me when I wake him up at three in the morning to inform him that Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, has just got herself mixed up with the mysterious death of Darius Cloud Walker.

This man is noted for the power of his rhetoric. In the courts he regularly tears his opponents to shreds. Some of his speeches have become so famous that copies of them are used in schools to teach students how to construct an argument. Cicerius’s argument on this occasion demonstrates mainly that as a protector of Turanian interests I am as much use as a one-legged gladiator, if that.

“I hired you to help Turai, not plunge us into war with the Abelasian confederacy! Never in my most fevered imaginings could I have dreamed of the chaos that would result from involving you in this affair!”

“Steady on, Cicerius,” I protest. “I’m not to blame. It wasn’t me that got stoned in Twelve Seas with Darius. It was Lisutaris.”

“You were meant to be looking after her. And what were you doing? Drinking beer and trading jokes with these degenerate Sorcerers from Juval! Did I not specifically warn you not to do that?”

“Very probably. I wasn’t expecting things to go wrong so quickly.”

Even as I speak I know this sounds feeble.

“You yourself warned of some involvement by an Assassin. Did you expect him to wait until you were ready?”

Once again I am subjected to Cicerius’s invective. I have to raise my voice to stop him.

“Okay, it’s bad. I thought that having Makri as a bodyguard would keep Lisutaris out of trouble, and that turned out to be a mistake.”

At the mention of Makri’s name Cicerius fulminates some more about the foolishness of placing trust in a woman with Orcish blood. I find myself defending her, which I don’t feel much like doing.

“Makri’s had a few distractions. But if an attempt is made on Lisutaris’s life, you’ll still be pleased she’s got Makri to protect her. And it’s all very well coming down on me like a bad spell for messing things up, but if it wasn’t for me we’d be in a lot worse position. If I hadn’t got rid of the body the Brotherhood would have found Darius lying there with Lisutaris and Direeva, and what would have happened then? At the very least you’d be paying blackmail money to the Brotherhood till the King’s vaults were empty. And there were seven Brotherhood men, they wouldn’t have all kept quiet about it. The news would be all over the city by now. At least I’ve bought us some time.”

Cicerius is aware that the respite is temporary. He knows as well as I do that when the Sorcerers start looking they’ll eventually find out the truth.

“You have bought us time? For what?”

“For me to find the killer.”

“And if that turns out to be Lisutaris? Or your companion?”

“It won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not sure. But I’ve talked to them both and my intuition tells me they’re innocent. As for Princess Direeva, I’m not so certain.”

“If an unknown assailant did enter your office and kill Darius, have you not made everything worse by moving the body and hiding the crime?”

“There was no time to work things out when the Brotherhood were beating on the door. As far as I knew, either Direeva or Lisutaris had stabbed Darius, and I couldn’t let that be discovered. Anyway, no matter who did kill him, would you really have wanted that scene to be made public? It would have ended Lisutaris’s chances of election.”

Cicerius shakes his head.

“Had she been taking dwa?”

“I don’t think so. Direeva had.”

“This curse is going to destroy us.”

Cicerius’s son was involved in a dwa scandal last year, and when we were on Avula, the Deputy Consul was badly shaken to discover that the drug had now taken root on the Elvish Isles.

“If things carry on like this the Orcs will sweep us away. What do you propose doing to rescue Turai from this calamity?”

“Lisutaris and Direeva are making a hiding spell.”

“Can we trust Direeva?”

“I don’t know. Ask Tilupasis, she’s been working on her. We have to take the risk, it’ll cover our tracks for a while. The spell would be a lot stronger if they got some help from Old Hasius.”

“You mean involve the Chief Sorcerer at the Abode of Justice in covering up a murder?”

Cicerius is a stickler for the law. He’s been known to go against his own party to uphold the constitution. And yet such is the seriousness of the matter for Turai that he doesn’t immediately dismiss my suggestion.

“To save the city I might even be prepared to sanction such an illegal action. But I doubt if it could be kept secret. Hasius’s apprentice is a supporter of Senator Lodius. If Lodius learns of this we’re finished.”

Senator Lodius leads the opposition party, the Populares. They’re fierce opponents of Cicerius and would leap at the opportunity to catch him out in such an illicit plan.

“All right, Hasius is out. And Gorsius is too unreliable. But Melus the Fair is a friend of Lisutaris. She might be able to help, and you could trust her. She wouldn’t sell out Lisutaris because they’re companions in the Association of Gentlewomen.”

“Kindly do not bring that organisation into the picture,” says Cicerius acidly. “They are nothing but trouble.”

“As you wish. But I think Lisutaris could do with her help. Anyway, with the hiding spell working I’ve got some time to investigate.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. It depends on the alignments of the moons at the time of the murder. If they’re unfavourable it might take the Sorcerers Guild a week or so to break through. Lisutaris is going back to her villa to check her books. Which is where I’m heading right now. She is going to try and look at the events herself before she starts hiding them. If she can get a good picture of the murder we’ll be a step ahead of everyone else and I might be able to clear things up before everything goes to hell.”

Cicerius is far from soothed. With the situation being as it is in Turai, it’s hard to know who he can trust. He’d like to get the Civil Guard to discreetly investigate but many of the guards are in the pay of either the Brotherhood or their rivals the Society of Friends, and those that aren’t might well be supporters of the Populares.

“I’d say it’s safest to tell no one.”

“And trust you to fix everything?”

“No. Trust me to find out the truth, then get Tilupasis to fix everything. She’s an efficient woman. You think I could have some more wine before I set off? It’s cold out there.”

“Get drunk on your own time,” says Cicerius, with feeling.

I set off, leaving a highly agitated Deputy Consul behind me. I’m none too calm myself. Cicerius might have been right about calling the guards straight away. But my intuition told me to move the body and I’ve lived on my intuition for a long time now. I ride towards Truth is Beauty Lane, home of the Sorcerers. The wind pierces my cloak like a series of sharp knives. I can’t ever remember being so cold. I’d never have taken the damned case if I’d known it was going to involve so much outdoor activity.

Lights are burning in Lisutaris’s villa, and despite the lateness of the hour a servant takes my horse for stabling while another leads me inside. The house reeks of thazis. I’m starting to object to the aroma. I find the Mistress of the Sky sitting at her water pipe in the company of Makri and Princess Direeva. The walls are hung with Elvish tapestries of green and gold, and numerous well-tended plants surround the large windows that look out over the gardens. It’s a beautiful room, decorated by one of the fashionable designers now found necessary by Turai’s upper classes. Warm too, though there is no fire. Such is the ingenuity of Turai’s architects that large villas now have systems for leading hot air through pipes under the floors to warm the houses. Unlike the frozen masses in Twelve Seas, the wealthy of Turai never have to shiver.

No torches burn on the walls. The bright illumination in the room is provided entirely by Lisutaris’s illuminated staff, which rests in a corner, bathing the room in light.

Makri has removed her armour to display the man’s tunic she generally wears. Princess Direeva’s tunic and leggings are somewhat similar and it makes for an odd contrast with Lisutaris’s flowing robes.

“How was the Deputy Consul?” asks the Sorcerer.

“He regrets nominating you for the post. And Makri, I wouldn’t count on his help for getting into the university.”

Makri’s face falls. She has a serious ambition to enter the Imperial University, and without some unusually powerful assistance that will never happen. Seeing her disappointed face, I’m oddly pleased. Revenge for all the trouble she’s been causing me recently.

Lisutaris motions towards the water pipe.

“Do you never do anything else?” I say, angrily.

“As you wish,” says Lisutaris.

“I wasn’t refusing. I just wondered if you never did anything else.”

I take a long pull at the pipe. The thazis is so strong that I’m obliged to sit down. I do feel calmer.

“You are just in time,” announces the Sorcerer. “We have the hiding spell ready. Before using it I shall look for the killer.”

Beside her is a golden saucer full of kuriya. In this dark liquid, an experienced practitioner can sometimes read the secrets of the past. It’s a difficult art. I’ve occasionally gleaned secrets from the kuriya but my success rate is low. However, my powers are as nothing compared to Lisutaris’s, and I’m optimistic that we may well learn the truth.

Before using kuriya I’d have to spend a long time getting myself in to the correct state of mind. Lisutaris is far beyond this. With no preparation, not even a deep breath, she waves her hand over the saucer. The room immediately goes cooler and the black liquid starts to glow. We crane our necks to see the picture that begins to form.

It’s a picture of my office. Very clear. You can see yesterday’s dirty plates lying on the table. As the picture spreads to fill the saucer I observe Makri and Direeva lying unconscious on the floor. Darius Cloud Walker is nearby, also comatose. Lisutaris doesn’t seem to be around. The door opens and she enters. She treads softly through the room and bends down over Makri. She reaches down and comes up with a knife. And then she pounces on Darius and sticks the knife in his back. Next, she disappears from the room, leaving the Sorcerer bleeding to death.

The picture fades. I look around at my companions. All three of them are struck dumb. Lisutaris looks like she’s just encountered the darkest demon of hell.

“Well, that seems fairly unequivocal,” I say. “No room for argument there. So what are we going to do now? And why the hell did you have to stab him with Makri’s knife? If you hated the man that much, couldn’t you just have blasted him with a spell?”

The Mistress of the Sky is still unable to speak. She stares at the now dark liquid, unblinking, horrified.

“Snap out of it,” I tell her. “And get busy with the hiding spell. You better make it good, because if anyone ever needed a hiding spell, it’s you.”

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