Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Nine

I awake feeling unusually comfortable, and very warm. I realise I’m not at home. I’m in a guest room at Lisutaris’s villa. Lisutaris the killer. I’d never have picked her for a murderer. There’s a bronze statue by the window. My clothes are draped over it. I get out of bed and get dressed. Outside the room a servant asks me if I’d like breakfast.

“I’ll take a beer and whatever you got on a plate. Is Lisutaris up yet?”

She isn’t. Downstairs I pick up my beer, and some roasted fowl from a selection of silver platters in the dining room, and finish them off quickly. I’m not planning on hanging around. Unfortunately, before I can make my exit Lisutaris appears, a small stick of thazis in her hand. She doesn’t look like she’s slept well.

“I didn’t kill him,” she says.

She said that last night as well.

I don’t reply.

“Don’t you believe me?”

“No.”

“Someone faked that magical picture.”

I continue not to believe her. It looked pretty damn convincing to me and it would stand up in court.

“I’m telling you, someone faked it.”

“No one could fake that.”

“I thought you always supported your clients.”

“I do. That’s why I haven’t turned you over to the Guard.”

“But you don’t believe I’m innocent?”

“No.”

Makri enters the breakfast chamber.

“What’s going on?”

“Thraxas believes I killed Darius Cloud Walker. He’s unhappy to be stuck with a murderer for a client.”

“Lisutaris isn’t a murderer,” says Makri. “You have to help.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

We stare at each other in silence. The Mistress of the Sky inhales from her thazis stick.

“Those pictures were good,” she says. “Even with all my power I couldn’t prove they were faked. They’ll fool other Sorcerers.”

“There’s no reason to think they were faked,” I point out, harshly. “And even if they were, what happened to the real past? A Sorcerer can hide the past but no one can erase it. You looked in the kuriya ten times or more and you couldn’t find the real events. Or what you say are the real events. So we’re talking two major discrepancies here, neither of which can be done by sorcery. One, erasing reality, and two, faking a new reality. Temporarily hiding the past is one thing, but erasing and faking can’t be done. You know that better than me. Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

“You’ve known me for a long time,” says Lisutaris. “We were standing on the same piece of city wall when it collapsed under dragon attack.”

“Kemlath Orc Slayer was standing there as well,” I point out. “And last year I got him exiled from the city.”

“But he was guilty!” explodes Makri. “Lisutaris didn’t kill Darius. Why would she? You have to help. No one else knows how to investigate things like you.”

I take another beer. I really don’t like this.

“How good is the hiding spell?” I ask, after a while.

“Good,” answers Lisutaris. “Better with Direeva’s power added to my own.”

“You don’t sound certain that will last.”

Lisutaris isn’t certain. Princess Direeva departed the villa last night after seeing the pictures of Lisutaris knifing Darius. Darius represents the nation of Abelesi, and they’re friends of Direeva’s.

“If Direeva thinks you killed him she’s not going to keep helping.”

I can see Tilupasis will be hard pressed to get Direeva’s votes for Turai, but that might be the least of our problems now. I ask Lisutaris about the alignment of the moons, important in sorcerous enquiries concerning the past.

“Not so good. The Sorcerers will have the alignments in their favour in two or three days.”

Lisutaris sits down heavily as if crushed by the weight of her troubles. I finish my beer. Somewhere south of here, Darius Cloud Walker is lying in a snowdrift. He deserved better.

“I suggest you recruit Melus to boost the hiding spell. Say nothing to anyone. And pack a bag.”

“Why?”

“Because the most likely outcome is that we’re all fleeing the city, one step ahead of the Civil Guard.”

I grab another beer and walk out of the villa. I know I’m making a mistake. There’s no way this one is turning out well. Last night there was another heavy fall of snow. The land around the city will be impassable in this weather. Unless you’re a Sorcerer, of course. I’ll probably end up climbing the scaffold myself while Lisutaris makes her escape. I just can’t see any good outcome. It’s going to need something superhuman to prevent it. I’m a forty-three-year-old Investigator, badly overweight, and I drink too much. No one would accuse me of being superhuman.

Back at the Avenging Axe, Gurd looks at me questioningly.

“Who did it?” he asks.

“Lisutaris, looks like.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Get her off the hook.”

Gurd raises his eyebrows. He knows that protecting a murderer is not a job I’d volunteer for.

“Can you do it?”

“I’m number one chariot in this business.”

“But can you do it?”

I shake my head.

“No one could do it.”

Upstairs in my office I sit and stare out at the snow. After a while I get out my klee and sip the fierce spirit till I feel better. I set up my niarit board and play through a game or two. The room feels cold so I stoke up the fire. It doesn’t make me warm so I lie on the couch and drag a blanket over me. I really should be doing something. I drink some more klee and fall asleep.

I’m woken by Makri. She says she’s come to apologise.

“What for?”

“For taking dwa and getting unconscious when I should have been watching Lisutaris. I’m sorry.”

I haul myself upright.

“Sorry? No need to apologise to me. You can do what you like.”

“Okay, I said I was sorry.”

“Stop apologising. I don’t care what you do.”

“Stop giving me a hard time,” protests Makri.

“I’m not giving you a hard time.”

“Yes you are. You’re deliberately making me feel bad by saying I don’t need to apologise.”

“You don’t.”

“Stop doing that,” says Makri, and looks cross.

“Makri, you can fill yourself full of as much dwa as you like. I don’t care.”

“Well, that’s fine. I don’t care if you care or not.”

“I don’t.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Then we’re fine,” says Makri.

“Completely fine.”

Makri storms out of the room. I pick up my klee and wonder what I’m meant to do at the Assemblage today. Look for clues? Protect Lisutaris? Kill her other main rivals?

Makri storms back into the room.

“What’s the idea of going on and on about me taking dwa when you drink so much?” she demands.

“I wasn’t going on and on.”

“You’re being intolerable. I’m going to tell Tanrose.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m going to tell Tanrose.”

“You? The number one gladiator and genius philosophy student? You’re going to run away and tell tales?”

“Okay!” screams Makri. “I was feeling bad about See-ath! I just wanted to not feel bad for a little while! Stop tormenting me!”

Makri grabs the bottle of klee and takes a slug. I pick up my cloak. There’s no time to charge it up, which means I’m in for a cold journey to the Royal Hall.

“You want me to put some stuff in this magic pocket?” asks Makri.

“What?”

“Lisutaris let me keep it for the week. I’ve got two swords, three knives and my axe in here. You have to be prepared when you’re a bodyguard.”

“And you’re a great bodyguard.”

“Stop insulting me,” says Makri. “I said I was sorry.”

We have to trudge for a long way through the frozen streets before we find a landus to take us up town. It takes us ages to travel up Moon and Stars Boulevard. There is little traffic on the streets but the road is partially blocked near the harbour by a collapsed aqueduct and the landus has to pick its way carefully through a mess of fallen masonry and huge blocks of ice. Workmen, moving slowly in the freezing cold, are trying to clear the way.

“Samanatius teaches here,” says Makri, and looks concerned.

I have no mental energy to waste on Samanatius.

“Are you sure you can’t remember anything else about last night?”

Makri shrugs. She’s wearing the floppy green hat she brought back from Avula. It’s ridiculous.

“I told you everything. Lisutaris wanted to show Princess Direeva some interesting bits of the city. So we came to Twelve Seas. Darius was with us. He was friends with Direeva so he tagged along. I took them to the Avenging Axe. We went in your office because my room is small and cold, and after a while we got to drinking klee—”

“You were drinking klee? Whose klee?”

“Yours, of course. I figured you wouldn’t mind; after all, you’re meant to be helping Lisutaris.”

“And you all passed out and next thing you know Darius is dead?”

“That’s right.”

“And you didn’t see anyone else the whole time? Didn’t sense anyone following you in Twelve Seas?”

“No.”

Snow falls from the bleak sky. Without the warming spell my cloak is useless. I shiver.

“What about Direeva? How was she with Darius?”

“Friendly.”

“You think she might have resented his attentions?”

“Maybe. But not enough to kill him. He wasn’t trying to force himself on her.”

“You fell asleep before Direeva. You don’t know what happened after that.”

Makri admits this is true but she doesn’t believe that anything bad enough could have occurred to make Direeva kill the Sorcerer. I doubt this myself, though I’m still suspicious of the Princess.

“I notice Direeva seemed to take to you.”

Makri looks embarrassed. She doesn’t reply, and changes the subject.

“You know those pictures of Lisutaris killing Darius were faked.”

“I don’t know that at all. Faking a scene like that and sending it into the past would be a fantastically difficult thing to do. It’s the sort of thing you read in stories about Sorcerers, but I’m not certain there’s any Sorcerer in the world who could really do it. So where does that leave us? The same pictures will appear when anyone else looks. If it really didn’t happen, the Sorcerer who forged it has strength I’ve never encountered before, or access to some spells no one else knows.”

Makri understands how bad this all is. When the Sorcerers Guild clear away the hiding spell, Lisutaris will be handed over to the authorities and sent for trial. Despite the evidence Makri is still convinced that Lisutaris didn’t kill Darius.

“Why?”

“Intuition.”

I don’t dismiss Makri’s intuition but I trust my own better. And it’s not sending me anything very positive right now. Maybe it’s the cold.

“What a mess,” I mutter.

All the while I’m wondering about Covinius, the Assassin. Could he have anything to do with this? I need to talk to Hanama, and quickly. We arrive at the Royal Hall. Lisutaris hasn’t yet turned up.

“She’ll be having her hair done by Copro,” Makri tells me. “She’s hired him for every morning of the Assemblage. Wants to make a good impression.”

“She’s going to make a hell of an impression soon.”

All around the Sorcerers are arriving, greeting each other. Many of them are notably less ebullient than yesterday. The mood will pick up when their hangovers fade. I look around for Irith Victorious. I’m planning on discreetly pumping him for information on Darius Cloud Walker. Juval borders Abelasi and the Sorcerers should know each other well. Maybe someone else wanted Darius out of the way.

Before I leave Makri I bring up the subject of the Turanian Assassins Guild. In particular, Hanama, number three in the hierarchy.

“You’re friendly with Hanama.”

“No I’m not.”

“Well, you’re as friendly as a person can be with an Assassin. I need to talk to her but she’s not answering my messages. Before I’m reduced to storming their headquarters, how about you have a word with her?”

“I’m not friendly with her,” protests Makri.

“You meet at gatherings of the Association of Gentlewomen.”

“She doesn’t go to meetings,” says Makri.

She’s lying. I guess it’s meant to be a secret.

Tilupasis takes the bad news much better than Cicerius. For her it’s just another problem to be solved, like buying votes.

“You must keep it quiet and find out the truth,” she instructs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Once you find out the truth, Kalius and Praetor Samilius will be able to arrest the murderer without involving Lisutaris. It need not spoil her chances of winning.”

“It will spoil them plenty if she really did it.”

“Nothing will spoil Lisutaris’s chances of election while I’m running her campaign,” says Tilupasis firmly. “If she’s guilty of murder then you will have to find some way of disguising the fact.”

“And how am I meant to do that?”

“You’re a sorcerous Investigator. It’s what you do.”

“What I do is catch petty thugs, slug them and send them to jail. Large-scale conspiracy isn’t my forte. And if the Sorcerers Guild catches me trying to hoodwink them they’ll be down on me like a bad spell.”

“I have great confidence in you,” says Tilupasis. “Keep me informed of all developments and let me know if you need money. I’ll instruct my operatives to learn what they can to assist you. Now, how is your companion Makri getting along with Princess Direeva? I’m very optimistic about this.”

“I doubt that Makri will enjoy being used as bait for Direeva’s votes.”

What Makri might enjoy doesn’t concern Tilupasis. She departs to carry on the campaign and I depart for a beer.

Irith Victorious is sitting at a table, looking a little the worse for wear.

“How are you today, Irith?”

“Not quite as happy as an Elf in a tree,” he replies. “Won’t feel myself till I get a few drinks in. Care to join me?”

“Of course.”

Today there are some organised events at the Assemblage. Classes for learning new spells, swapping lore from around the west, that sort of thing. Irith tells me he isn’t quite up to learning anything new right now, though he’s in the market for a magic pocket which can store beer without it going stale.

I’m looking for information on Darius. As a means of raising the subject I tell Irith I placed a bet on Lisutaris.

“Rash behaviour, Thraxas. Sunstorm Ramius is the man, I’m sure. Though I’d rather see Darius or Lisutaris in the post. Even Rokim, though I’m not keen on Samsarinans as a rule. Ramius is too much of an old soldier for me, he’ll have the Guild declaring war on the Orcs at the first excuse. Me, I like my life more peaceful. You think Lisutaris is keen on going to war?”

“Only if the thazis plants are threatened.”

“I might vote for her. I admire a woman with a respectable hobby.”

Other Juvalian Sorcerers drift in, each in a similar state to Irith. I pick up some useful information. Mainly of the negative sort, however. Darius has no obvious enemies. Gets on with most people, apart from apprentices. As Sorcerers are always firing their apprentices, that’s not much to go on, but I file it away to check out later. I nose around for more but as it’s not yet known that Darius Cloud Walker is now firmly rooted to the ground, I can’t press too much for fear of giving myself away.

Sunstorm Ramius strides through the room, greeting us as he passes.

“Just off to teach some Samsarinans how to purify poisoned water with a simple spell,” he informs us. “Care to come along?”

The Juvalians decline. They’re not quite in the mood for instruction today. Ramius smiles indulgently. I get the impression he doesn’t entirely approve of the manners of the Juvalians, but as a man who’s looking for votes he can’t go around being rude to the electorate.

“What sort of candidate is he?” says Irith. “Didn’t even offer to buy us a drink. Anyone seen Darius? He ought to be good for a beer or two. Hey, Thraxas, is Lisutaris handing out any free thazis?”

I grin at the large Sorcerer.

“I take it you’re not planning on much studying at the Assemblage?”

His companions guffaw at the notion.

“I haven’t learned a new spell in fifteen years,” replies Irith. “I’ve got plenty already. Who needs more? Are you going to talk all morning or are you going to finish that beer?”

A few hours later, slightly the worse for wear, I wander off in search of Lisutaris, finding her in a corner of the main hall, sitting beside Makri. Makri is again wearing her full armour but the effect is spoiled by her floppy green hat, which is the sort of thing sported only by small Elvish children.

Makri tells me she bought a new stud for her nose.

“It’s magic. Look, if you touch it it goes gold. Touch it again it goes silver. Then it goes gold. . .”

“. . . and then it goes silver. That’s great. Any information?”

I’m looking at Lisutaris. She’s looking at the ceiling. Or possibly the sky. I frown.

“I take it your recent troubles haven’t led you to lay off the thazis?”

Lisutaris slumps forward on to the table.

“She’s under a lot of stress,” says Makri.

I glance around. Approaching fast is a delegation of Sorcerers from Mattesh.

“For God’s sake, Makri, can’t you keep her under control? If these Sorcerers see her like this they’re never going to vote for her. Get her out of here.”

Makri stands up. She sways, clutches at her head, and sits down again.

“Sorry,” she says.

I glare at her.

“As a bodyguard you’re about as much use as a eunuch in a brothel.”

“I’ve been under a lot of stress.”

The Sorcerers draw near. I hoist Lisutaris to her feet and start walking her rapidly in the other direction.

“Tell me about your new spell for protecting a whole city!” I boom, trying to give a good impression while I drag the number one Turanian Sorcerer to the safety of a side room. Makri struggles along behind us. I dump the Mistress of the Sky on a couch. Makri slumps beside her. I take out my flask of klee and pour a healthy dose down my throat.

“Have you been encouraging Lisutaris to drink?” comes an angry voice behind me.

It’s Cicerius. He saw us heading this way and followed us in.

I protest my innocence. Cicerius looks at us like we’ve just crawled out from under a rock. He demands to know why I’ve been spending the day drinking when I should be trying to get Lisutaris out of the mess she’s in. I feel confused, angry, full of beer and bereft of a good reply. I slump down beside Makri.

“I’ve got a new nose stud,” says Makri. “You touch it it goes gold. Then it goes silver.”

A fine trio you make,” rages the Deputy Consul. “None of you can even stand. God knows what I was thinking when I entrusted the welfare of our great city into your hands.”

Cicerius’s assistant Hansius rushes through the door.

“Deputy Consul!” he gasps. “Word from Twelve Seas. The Civil Guards have just found the body of Darius Cloud Walker! He’s been murdered!”

Outside, the Assemblage is already in uproar as the news spreads.

“Need more thazis,” mumbles Lisutaris, then closes her eyes. I notice that her hair is particularly finely arranged. And her make-up is just perfect. The early morning beauty sessions are really paying off.

[Contents]