Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Seventeen

I wake up in my chair with a bottle in my lap and a pain in my neck. It’s morning. The fire has gone out and my room is freezing. Princess Direeva is sitting on the couch, reading my book of spells.

“Very out of date,” she says. “Sorcery has moved on since this was printed.”

“I haven’t.”

“You never qualified. Why not?”

“I was never good at studying. Why are you here?”

My doors are secured with a locking spell, but a Sorcerer like Direeva can walk right through any of my minor incantations.

“Are you cold?” she asks, as she sees me shiver.

“I’m cold.”

Direeva waves her hand. My fire bursts into life.

“Very clever. You got a spell for tidying my room?”

“I have,” says Direeva. “But you wouldn’t like it.”

“I take it you didn’t come to Twelve Seas just to demonstrate your power?”

“Lighting a fire requires very little power. I really wonder why you didn’t pursue your apprenticeship.”

“Change the subject. First thing in the morning, I hate talking about me failing.”

“As you wish.”

The Princess has never shown any signs of liking me. Sitting in my office she still has something of a disdainful air, as if she’d rather be elsewhere. It’s annoying. It’s not like I insisted on her visiting. She’s welcome to go and disdain somewhere else.

I ask her if news of Lisutaris’s detection as a murderer has reached the ears of the Assemblage. It hasn’t. Apparently Tilupasis has succeeded in silencing Lasat, Axe of Gold. You have to admire that woman. It takes nerve to blackmail a Sorcerer who could stop your heart beating with one of his lesser spells.

“As far as the Assemblage knows, Lisutaris is in the happy position of coming second in the election and is now about to face the final test. Which is why I am here. I’m concerned for her safety. It occurs to me that Covinius may decide that the magic space is a very good place in which to kill her.”

I don’t get this. Lisutaris and Sunstorm Ramius will have to enter the magic space to carry out the final test, whatever that may be, but the magic space in question will not be open to the public.

“How? Charius the Wise will create the magic space when he sets the test. Lisutaris and Ramius will walk into it. No one else will be there.”

“Is Covinius not the master Assassin?” says Direeva. “May he not have means of following them? A person can die in the magic space just as well as anywhere else. The unpredictability of the dimension could make even a strong Sorcerer like Lisutaris vulnerable to his attack.”

There’s something in what the Princess says. Out in the street, Covinius couldn’t fire a dart into Lisutaris. Her protection spells would deflect it. But in the peculiar realm which is the magic space, they might not. Nothing is ever certain there. It’s not a good place to visit.

I pile a few more logs into the hearth. I’ll miss it when these Sorcerers are no longer around to light my Fire.

“I intend to follow Lisutaris into the magic space,” says Direeva. “That way I can watch over her.”

“Since when are you so concerned about Lisutaris? Only yesterday you weren’t even sure who you were going to vote for.”

“Makri won me over with her strong arguments,” says Direeva, and almost smiles.

I doubt this is the whole truth. Direeva’s father, ruler of the Southern Hills, probably isn’t going to last much longer. Quite possibly Turai has secretly offered the Princess aid if she decides to dispute the succession with her brother. Even so, I wouldn’t be surprised if Makri’s demonstration of strength did influence the Princess. It certainly made Troverus look less impressive.

“I never really cared for the Simnian,” says Direeva. “Lisutaris will be a better head of the Guild.”

“Charius and Lasat won’t allow anyone else into the magic space.”

“I believe I can secretly open a portal which will allow access. Before Lisutaris starts the test I will use a spell to connect us.”

“How difficult is that? Could other Sorcerers do it?”

“Possibly.”

“Then we might have company.”

I’ve wondered for a while why Sunstorm Ramius and his Simnian delegation haven’t been doing more in the way of bribery. They’ve seemed content to let Turai do its worst. Almost as if they were confident of winning the final test no matter what. Direeva’s notion makes me wonder if they might be planning to send some help of their own into the magic space.

“If you’re going in I want to come with you.”

“You do? I was thinking more of Makri.”

“No doubt she’ll insist on coming.”

The dragon scales in Direeva’s hair glint in the firelight, casting small flashes of reflected colour on to the walls.

“You ever work a spell with those dragon scales?”

Direeva shakes her head.

“No. I just buy them to decorate my hair. Where is Makri?”

“I don’t know. Last time I saw her she was going to watch Lisutaris’s back. If Lisutaris hasn’t been denounced as a murderer she should be with her in her villa.”

“Then we should go there,” suggests Direeva. “And make preparations.”

I stretch. My neck hurts. I shouldn’t fall asleep in chairs. I wonder if Direeva could fix it with a spell. I’m not going to ask. I’m hungry. I’d go and buy pastry from Minarixa’s bakery if Minarixa wasn’t dead from dwa. I get my cloak. It’s cold. I don’t heat it up. I don’t want to show my poor magical skills in front of a major Sorcerer. I take a quick beer from downstairs and ask Tanrose to throw some salted venison in a bag for me.

Direeva has a carriage outside, driven by two of her attendants, each bearing the insignia of the royal house of the Southern Hills. They’re grim men, and remain silent on the journey. I poke around in my bag and take out a hunk of venison. Direeva looks startled.

“I did not invite you to eat in my carriage.”

“I didn’t invite you to visit me and interrupt my breakfast.”

“I do not allow people to speak to me like that in the Southern Hills.”

“Since you got drunk and collapsed on my floor, I figure I don’t have to worry about etiquette.”

I’m angry. Angry that I’m making no progress. And angry at Direeva for thinking she can waltz into my rooms without an invitation. Direeva is displeased at my lack of civility and we ride in silence to the villa. There we find various servants, but no sign of Lisutaris or Makri.

“Copro is attending to the Mistress of the Sky.”

We wait in silence. It’s the day of the final test and I can already feel some tension. I don’t trust the Simnians. And Covinius will finally show his face, I’m sure.

Cicerius is expecting me to come up with something to clear Lisutaris. I haven’t. It’s a long time since I failed so badly on an important case. Makri arrives downstairs after ten minutes or so. Although her nails are freshly painted, she’s frowning. Makri knows that she’s in for a hard time if it all goes wrong and she finds herself being interrogated by the Civil Guard. The guards are not going to go easy on an alien woman with Orc blood who can’t come up with a good explanation as to why her knife was sticking in the corpse.

“I’ll kill them all and leave the city,” she mutters. “I don’t suppose you’ve achieved a fantastic breakthrough?”

“Not yet. But I have some good news. We’re sneaking into the magic space to help Lisutaris in the test.”

“Good,” says Makri. “Will it clear her name?”

“No. I’m still working on that.”

Direeva expresses some contempt for my powers of investigation.

“A woman could die waiting for you to help. What have you done so far?”

“A lot of thinking.”

“And?”

“And now I need a beer. How long till Lisutaris is ready?”

Makri isn’t sure.

“She had a new outfit planned for the final test but Copro was doubtful about the whole concept. They’re still discussing shoes.”

“I liked the gold ones she wore yesterday,” says Direeva.

“Me too,” says Makri. “but they clash with the new necklace.”

I take a goblet of wine and wonder about the final test. Last time the Sorcerers elected a new leader, the two candidates were given fifteen minutes to sorcerously dam a magical river which doubled in volume every two minutes. The winner brought down a mountain to act as a barrier, but some say it was lucky that the mountain just happened to appear in the magic space at the right time.

“Lisutaris will need her wits about her. Is she staying off the water pipe?”

“No.”

“She should be.”

“Well, she isn’t.”

“Couldn’t you encourage her?”

“Why me?” says Makri, getting belligerent.

“You’re her bodyguard.”

“She’s still alive, isn’t she?”

“Just about. No thanks to you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean as a bodyguard you’re as much use as a eunuch in a brothel. When the Brotherhood knocked on my door you were unconscious, and when Capatius’s thugs attacked us you collapsed in a heap.”

Makri is irate.

“Stop bringing that up. Who saved you last year when we were attacked by Orcs? And who defeated Kirith-ar-Yell? He was about to chop your head off till I tossed him off that balcony.”

“I’d have managed.”

“Only if Kirith had stopped for a beer.”

“Do you have to argue all the time?” says Direeva, angrily.

“Who asked you to get involved?” I retort, aggressively.

“Who is it that is going to take us into the magic space?”

“I’d have found a way in anyway.”

“The only thing you’d find would be Lisutaris’s wine cellar.”

Our nerves are beginning to fray. Fortunately Lisutaris arrives downstairs in time to prevent us from becoming violent. We’re not the only ones whose nerves are frayed. At the Assemblage the atmosphere is unusually tense. The Sorcerers are quieter. Whether this is because they’ve heard some ugly rumours or just because on this day they are required to tone down the celebrating, I don’t know, but even Irith Victorious looks subdued. Cicerius practically bites my head off when I’m forced to report no progress on the murder.

“You think this is easy? I’m trying to unravel some sorcerous plot the like of which no one has ever encountered before. Someone very smart entered my office to kill Darius and no one even knows why. And don’t forget everything else I’ve had on my plate, like helping your friend Tilupasis bribe our way to victory. And guarding Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, against Covinius, whoever the hell Covinius is. When you gave me the job you didn’t mention the Simnians had hired an Assassin to kill our candidate.”

“I am still not certain that is the case,” says the Deputy Consul.

“Well, I am. Lisutaris knows that Sunstorm Ramius hired an Assassin, and that’s good enough for me.”

Sulinius hurries into the private room, looking harassed.

“How dare you arrive late on such an important day,” declares the Deputy Consul, and starts giving him a lecture.

“Visus is dead,” gasps Sulinius.

“Dead?”

“A dwa overdose. Last night.”

Sulinius seems on the verge of tears at the death of his young companion. Cicerius is speechless.

“I’ll see that it’s kept quiet,” says Tilupasis, and leaves the room in a hurry. Cicerius recovers swiftly and tells Sulinius to pull himself together.

“It is time for all Turanians to do their duty.”

All the Turanians who appear in the Deputy Consul’s room are already stressed from doing their duty. Praetor Samilius sullenly admits that none of his Investigators have found out anything about anything. Samilius is resentful that as head of the Civil Guard he wasn’t informed of events earlier. Old Hasius the Brilliant, briefly visiting before going to help with the final test, informs us sharply that he still believes Lisutaris to be guilty.

“I do not know why Lasat, Axe of Gold, is allowing her to continue,” he says. “But I do know that it is pointless.”

“The King’s administration does not believe it to be pointless,” says Cicerius.

“Then the King’s administration is acting more foolishly than usual.”

The Deputy Consul glares at Hasius, but the Sorcerer is far too old and venerable to be intimidated by anyone. Consul Kalius arrives and Hasius reminds him that he said all along that Lisutaris was not a suitable candidate for head of the Sorcerers Guild. From the look on Kalius’s face, he probably agrees, but he’s stuck with it now.

The test is due to start in one hour. No one has any idea what it will consist of. Charius will call Lisutaris and Ramius and the three of them will step into the mouth of the magic space. Charius will then give them their task.

I draw Cicerius aside for a private word and inform him that Direeva believes she can penetrate the magic space. Cicerius is pleased, though he expresses some concern.

“If Turai is found to have interfered with the test, Lisutaris will be disqualified.”

“We’ll be discreet. Direeva thinks she can get us in unobserved.”

Tilupasis returns from hushing up the death of Tribune Visus.

“An unfortunate occurrence.”

“Very,” agrees Cicerius. “Young men should stay clear of dwa.”

I find this hard to take.

“Stay clear of it? He was practically ordered to take it. You ought to give him a medal, he died in the line of duty.”

“So you will enter the magic space with Direeva and Makri?” says Tilupasis, briskly ignoring my barb.

“That’s the plan. If Covinius arrives Direeva will distract him. Meanwhile Makri protects Lisutaris and I do whatever I can to help. If Sunstorm Ramius looks like he’s winning, he’s going to find me in his face. Have you managed to find out anything about the test?”

Tilupasis shakes her head. Charius has continued to be incorruptible.

“It might not matter,” I point out. “Lisutaris could probably dam a magic river as well as Ramius, providing she isn’t too stoned.”

“And is she?”

“She’s coming round.”

In the main hall the Sorcerers are gathered in their delegations. Sobriety prevails, as is traditional. Even the most hardened hedonist—Irith, for example—is strongly discouraged from enjoying himself while the test is in progress. I notice Irith and his large companions sitting bored at a table at the far side of the room. I’d like to greet them but I hesitate. I was discreet when I pumped them for information, and even more discreet when I passed the information on to Tilupasis. There’s nothing really to connect me with the robbery. But Sorcerers usually have finely developed intuition. I’d be surprised if they don’t work out what I was about, eventually.

So far at the Assemblage there has been little ceremony since the King’s speech of welcoming. Today is rather different, and once again all non-Sorcerers are banished from the main hall as the two candidates approach the tall robed figures of Lasat, Axe of Gold, and Charius the Wise. Charius has a small globe in his hand, the artefact which he will use to create the magic space. The last thing I see is Lisutaris laying her hand on the globe while the entire Guild looks on in silence. In a way, it’s a sacred moment. I hurry to Cicerius’s private room to get on with the business of corrupting it.

Princess Direeva and Makri are already there. Makri reports that Lisutaris left her with a clear mind.

“I managed to get her focused.”

Direeva waves her hand to silence us.

“We must enter now.”

“Shouldn’t we give them a start?”

“Not if you want to find out what the test is. Now be silent.”

Cicerius steps well out of the way. Direeva takes a small fragment of dragon scale from her hair and holds it in the palm of her hand. She stares at it for a few seconds then mutters a sentence in one of the arcane Sorcerers’ languages. The room goes cool. An aura of green light forms round the dragon scale, growing in size till it’s the height of a man.

“Let us go,” says the Princess, and steps into the light.

Makri walks quickly in behind her. I hesitate for a second. The magic space isn’t a place I really want to visit again. I turn to Cicerius.

“I’m adding this to my bill,” I say, then tramp forward into a place where the sun is a vile shade of purple and we are surrounded on all sides by a tall hedge.

“Where’s the talking pig?” asks Makri, looking around.

The last time we were in the magic space we met a pig which was, as I remember, a fairly intelligent creature.

“It won’t be here. We’re in a different part of the magic space.”

I’m suddenly doubtful.

“Or are we? Or is all magic space the same big dimension?”

“Sort of,” replies Direeva, unhelpfully. “This is the Maze of Aero. Do not separate or you will become lost. Remain silent while I bring us close to the entry point of the others.”

Direeva leads us through the maze. It’s hard to keep our bearings as we’re surrounded on all sides by the huge hedge. Everywhere looks the same but Direeva seems to know where she’s going. Finally, after some twisting and turning, she leads us to a clearing wherein there is a small pool. On the other side of the pool a green light is beginning to glow. Direeva motions for us to withdraw behind the foliage.

So far this magic space seems to be behaving itself reasonably well. The sun is a horrible colour but the hedge isn’t doing anything weird. Not turning into giant mushrooms, for instance. You can’t trust this place, though. If we get out without encountering an erupting volcano I’ll count myself lucky.

From behind the hedge I hear voices, first that of Charius the Wise.

“You are now in the Maze of Aero. Here is your test.”

“What is this?” enquires Lisutaris.

“A sequence of numbers,” replies Charius. “Your task is to find the next number in the sequence and bring it to me. The first person to do so will be the next head of the Sorcerers Guild.”

“What sort of test is that?” demands Lisutaris, sounding displeased.

“It is the test I have set you.”

“I’m not a mathematician,” declares Lisutaris. “I do not count this as a proper test.”

There is no sound of protest from Sunstorm Ramius. Maybe he’s a mathematician. Or maybe he’s about to cheat. Already I’m highly suspicious. I peer round the hedge. Charius is disappearing into the green light and Ramius is exiting through the opposite gap in the hedge. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, is dragging a large water pipe out of her personal magic pocket.

“That’s not going to help,” I say, stepping forward.

Lisutaris looks round.

“Nothing’s going to help. Look at this.”

She hands over a sheet of parchment. On it are written the numbers 391, 551, 713.

“Anyone know what the next number might be?”

No one knows.

“It seems like an odd sort of test,” says Direeva.

“Don’t you know, Makri? You study mathematics.”

“I’ll try and work it out,” says Makri, but she looks puzzled.

“You do that,” says Lisutaris, and takes hold of the water pipe.

“For God’s sake, you can’t just give up,” I shout. “Not after all the effort we went to to get you here. Do something.”

“What? I’m no good at numbers. Never was.”

“Summon up a mathematical spirit or something.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“There must be some magical way of finding the next number. Otherwise Charius wouldn’t have set it as a test.”

Direeva wonders, like me, if this might have been arranged in some way for Ramius to win. Perhaps the Simnians didn’t bother bribing the Sorcerers because they’d already bribed Charius.

“If he walks back in here in thirty seconds with the right number, I’m going to be pretty suspicious.”

A unicorn walks by. We ignore it.

“Maybe they have mathematical spirits in Simnia.”

“Maybe,” says Lisutaris. “But not in Turai. I’m stumped.”

She lights the water pipe. I can’t believe she’s giving up so easily. Direeva suddenly makes a warning sound. Close to us, a green light is starting to glow. We all hurry behind the hedge, and peer round the edge just in time to see a dark shape disappearing into the forest.

“Covinius!” whispers Princess Direeva. “He’s come, as I thought he would.”

“Are you sure that was Covinius? I couldn’t see his face.”

“Who else would it be?”

Direeva steps forward.

“I will take care of him. Lisutaris, you must do what you can with the test.”

With that Direeva strides off, her long hair swinging in the light breeze.

I turn to Makri.

“Stay here with Lisutaris.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see what I can find.”

“You’ll get lost.”

“No I won’t. I know all about sorcerous mazes. Maybe if I can rustle up a talking pig he’ll know the next number in the sequence.”

“The next number,” grumbles Lisutaris. “The whole thing is ridiculous. Who knows anything about mathematics?”

“Simnian Sorcerers, maybe.”

Lisutaris sits down with her pipe.

“It’s not a fair test,” she mutters, sounding irritatingly like a schoolchild. “I was expecting to be damming a river. Or building a mountain. I could have done that.”

“Fair or not, we have to find it quick, before Ramius. I’m damned if I’ve come this far just to let a Simnian win.”

Lisutaris doesn’t seem to care. She’s given up. Her hair is still beautifully styled. At a reception at the Imperial Palace, other women would be eyeing her with envy.

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