Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Nineteen

My second meeting with Turai’s leading officials is even more uncomfortable than the first.

“In brief, the situation is as follows,” says Consul Kalius. “Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, has won the final test and is now due to be confirmed as head of the Sorcerers Guild. Unfortunately she remains the main suspect for the murder of Darius Cloud Walker. Additionally, Sunstorm Ramius, one of the best-known Sorcerers in the west, was killed during the test. Although you report that various other people had infiltrated the magic space, as far as the Sorcerers Guild is concerned there were only two people there—Ramius and Lisutaris. Naturally Lisutaris is now suspected of this murder.”

Kalius is worried. As Consul, he has a gold rim running round his toga. It’s the only gold-rimmed toga in the whole city state and he doesn’t want to lose it.

“So what are we going to do about this?”

“Deflect criticism from Lisutaris,” replies Tilupasis promptly. “There is no certainty that Ramius was murdered. People can die of natural causes in the magic space.”

“His throat was slit,” points out Kalius. “It doesn’t look natural. No one is going to believe he was attacked by a rogue unicorn. Who did kill him?”

“We believe that the Simnian Assassin Covinius may be involved,” answers Tilupasis. “I’ve already put this out as a rumour.”

“Why would a Simnian Assassin kill the Simnian Sorcerer?”

“Internal politics?” suggests Cicerius, hopefully. “Whatever the reason, we must certainly spread the story that Covinius killed Ramius.”

Everyone agrees it’s very unfortunate that Covinius chose this moment to attack Sunstorm Ramius. Had he but killed him earlier in the week at the Assemblage, it would not have looked so bad for Turai. With plenty of foreign Sorcerers around we could have blamed anyone. Personally, I don’t know what to think. Since learning that Simnia had hired an Assassin I’ve been working on the assumption that he was here to kill Lisutaris. Which doesn’t seem to fit the facts, with Ramius being the victim. Unless Lisutaris really did kill Ramius, and the Assassin felt unable to attack her in the magic space because of the presence of Direeva and Makri. Is Copro Covinius? I’m no longer sure, though he can’t have been up to any good wandering around in the magic space with a crossbow. It has to have been him who shot Direeva.

I’d like to ask Hanama what she got up to after we parted, but Hanama has disappeared. Disappearing is a speciality of hers.

“How long do we have to sort this out?” asks Praetor Samilius.

“Six hours,” replies Tilupasis. “Lisutaris is due to be confirmed as Chief Sorcerer this evening, but before that happens, Charius the Wise will denounce her as the killer. I have bought us a little time but nothing I can do will prevent him from speaking out at the confirmation.”

“Could we . . . er . . . get to Charius?” suggests Samilius.

“No. He has resisted all our efforts and is now safely in the company of Lasat, Axe of Gold, and all the most powerful Sorcerers in the Guild.”

Kalius asks Samilius if the Civil Guard have come up with anything useful. They haven’t. All eyes turn to me.

“I have some leads. I’ll get on to it.”

Not wishing to expose myself to further ridicule, I’m not planning on denouncing Copro till I have some proof against him.

“You have six hours.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Though Turai’s leading politicians aren’t about to include me in their discussions of state policy, I’m well aware that there is more riding on this now than Lisutaris’s welfare. The city state of Turai is small. We have a lot of gold which other nations crave. If Simnia is looking for an excuse to make war on us, the murder of their Chief Sorcerer isn’t a bad one. If the Abelasians decide to join them because of Darius, you don’t have to be sharp as an Elf’s ear to realise that Turai isn’t going to be the safest place for a man to live.

So far all my efforts have come to nothing. Maybe I should have been more determined in questioning the Sorcerers. I might have been if I hadn’t been forced to spend time pumping the Juvalians for dirt about Lasat, Axe of Gold. Old Hasius the Brilliant again scans the city, but with so little to go on, even the efforts of such a formidable Sorcerer are futile. I ask him once more if he’s had any further thoughts on the matter of a spell for remaking reality.

“There is no such spell,” he repeats.

I’m really sick of hearing that.

Lisutaris is resting at her villa, waiting either to be confirmed as head of the Sorcerers Guild or arraigned as a murderer. Also there is Princess Direeva, recovering from her wound. Makri is with them, or so I thought. I’m surprised when she arrives at the Assemblage just as I’m leaving. I stare at her suspiciously. Last time I called her a pointy-eared Orc freak she attacked me with her axe.

“I’ve come to help,” she says. “Providing you give me a fulsome apology.”

“You think I need your help?”

“You always need my help.”

I apologise. It’ll only make life hell at the Avenging Axe if I don’t.

“Any insult was purely accidental. Your pointed ears are just one of your numerous excellent features. Many people speak highly of them. Now why are you really here?”

“Lisutaris wanted me to make sure you didn’t kill Copro. She thinks my duties as bodyguard should extend to protecting her favourite hairdresser.”

Cicerius provides us with an official carriage and we set off to visit Copro at his home in Thamlin. I tell Makri that no matter what Lisutaris thinks, Copro is up to something.

“I saw him in the magic space.”

Makri nods. She knows me well enough to realise I don’t suffer from hallucinations.

“It wouldn’t really surprise me if there was more to him than he’s saying. He was amazingly skilful with his scissors. And for a beautician, he did have a surprising grasp of world politics.”

Makri wonders why Covinius, whoever he actually is, suddenly ended up killing Sunstorm Ramius instead of Lisutaris.

“I’m wondering that myself. Damned unreasonable, seeing as we’ve spent the week protecting Lisutaris. If he’d just got in touch beforehand and said he was here to assassinate Ramius it would have been simpler all round.”

“Is it a crime you have to solve?”

“Definitely not. The Simnians can look after their own Sorcerers. All I have to do is show that Lisutaris didn’t do it.”

Copro lives in an impressive villa. Not quite as large as those belonging to our wealthy Senators, but big enough. Few tradespeople of any sort live in Thamlin. The average working Turanian dwells in far more humble surroundings, and even those whose skill or good fortune have made them rich—some of our goldsmiths, for instance—wouldn’t really be welcome here. But Copro seems to have attracted a higher status to himself. The grounds at the front of his house, now covered in snow, are in summer a marvel of exuberant good taste, with plants, trees and bushes arranged in glorious harmony according to his own design. As with hair, make-up and dress, Copro’s gardens have had a profound effect on the fashions of the city.

Inside the gate I trample on a frozen bush so it breaks.

“You don’t like the man, do you?” says Makri.

“I don’t. Where was he when I was defending the city against the Orcs? Sitting comfortably in the Palace. Now he lives in a villa and I’ve got two rooms above the Avenging Axe.”

“You really should address your self-loathing some time,” says Makri, brightly. I scowl at her, and march up the long path.

Copro isn’t in. A servant tells me so at the door, and after I bundle her out the way and search the house, it seems to be true. Other servants run around threatening to call the Civil Guard. I grab one of them and demand to know where Copro is. He claims not to know. I slap him. He falls down but when I drag him up he still doesn’t know.

“I don’t have time for this. Tell me where he is or I’ll throw you downstairs.”

The servant starts wailing. I drag him to the top of the stairs, then halt, and let him go.

“I smell sorcery.”

Makri looks interested.

“What sort?”

“Not sure. But I can always sense it. Someone has worked a spell in this house, not long ago.”

We start hunting again, straining to find the source of the magic. Finally I stop in front of a bookcase. I drag it out of the way. Behind it the wall looks much as it should do. I put my shoulder to it and it creaks. I throw my full weight at it and the wall gives way. It’s thin wood, a panel hiding a secret room. Inside are books, charts, phials, an astrolabe and various other things normally to be found only in the workroom of a Sorcerer. At the back of the room is a particularly ugly statue of some sort of demon with four arms.

“How interesting.”

“So he’s a Sorcerer as well as an Assassin?”

“Will you stop calling me an Assassin?” says Copro, materialising in the centre of the room.

Makri takes her twin swords from her magic purse.

Copro laughs.

“Do you imagine those can hurt me?”

Makri, not one for banter while she fights, waits silently, swords at the ready. Copro ignores her and speaks to me, telling me of the great enjoyment he has obtained from monitoring the incompetence of my investigation.

“Do people hire you for your amusement value, fat man?”

“All the time. I crack them up at the Palace.”

“Well, I am not an Assassin. I find myself baffled that you could think me to be Covinius.”

“I don’t think you’re Covinius. I used to, but it just occurred to me that you’re Rosin-kar. Once the disgruntled apprentice of Darius Cloud Walker.”

Copro looks less pleased.

“And what do you base that on?”

“Summer Lightning. An Abelasian hair-styling term, I believe.”

“That is hardly proof,” retorts Copro.

“Maybe not. But it was enough to get my intuition working. And it will be enough to get the Sorcerers Guild to investigate your past and link you with Darius’s murder.”

“Darius’s murder? Lisutaris has been shown to be guilty, I believe.”

“You faked the evidence,” I say.

Copro smiles.

“You don’t know how I did that, do you? I’ve spied on you, Thraxas, as you’ve toiled round the city, asking questions. Every Sorcerer you came to, you asked the same question. Is there a spell for remaking reality? Everyone said no. No one knows how to do it, except me. I am the greatest Sorcerer in the west, and the world will soon know it.”

By this time I’m starting to worry. From the tone of Copro’s voice and the glint in his eye, I’d say I was dealing with a fairly insane beautician. Probably he never really got over being booted out by Darius.

“So why did you kill Darius?”

“I owed it to him.”

“Maybe. But why bother to frame Lisutaris for the murder?”

“I was well paid by Sunstorm Ramius. The Simnians were just as keen as the Turanians to eliminate the opposition.”

“But why get involved?” exclaims Makri. “You’re such a great beautician. Weren’t you happy doing that?”

“Moderately happy,” replies Copro. “But in truth, I was finding it wearing. And I loath Lisutaris. Eternally sucking on that water pipe. The woman is a disgrace to Sorcerers everywhere. While she and her kind have stagnated in the west, I have travelled the world in an effort to hone my skill. I have learned sorcery unheard of in these lands. Now I’ll show the Guild who it was they refused to allow to finish his apprenticeship.”

Copro is looking madder all the time.

“I offered my services to Simnia. When Ramius was elected head of the Guild my reward was to be Chief Sorcerer of the conquered lands.”

“What conquered lands?”

“Turai and Abelasi.”

“Tough on you it’s all gone wrong. Ramius is dead and Lisutaris won.”

Copro’s eye starts to twitch.

“I intended to kill her in the magic space. I didn’t understand why she had not been arraigned for the murder. Despite the excellent job I did in framing her, Turai had somehow managed to keep her name clear. I found that most annoying.”

Copro shrugs.

“No matter. She will be tried for the murder eventually. No one will find the secret of my spell for remaking reality. And no one apart from you will ever realise I am Rosin-kar. I see that you are wearing spell protection charms. It may take a while for me to wear them down. Rather than waste time I will now introduce you to one of my favourite creations.”

Copro claps his hands. The statue behind him opens its eyes, and steps forward. It raises its four arms, each one carrying a sword. I raise my own weapons to defend myself. Makri does the same. The statue advances a few steps then topples over with a terrific crash and lies motionless on the ground. Makri looks puzzled.

“Is that it?”

Copro is furious.

“Don’t feel bad,” I tell him. “Animating a statue is a really difficult thing to do.”

Copro claps his hands again and tigers appear from nowhere, rending at us with their claws. Makri starts fighting but I remain calm. I know these are illusions. I walk straight through a tiger and they all vanish. Immediately serpents slither down the walls and slide towards us. I feel them twining round my legs as I walk forward. It takes all my concentration to keep going. Illusionary or not, I hate to be covered with snakes. Dragonfire erupts from the walls, covering me in golden light, and a nameless demon jabs at my eyes with a spear. I ignore it all and keep walking. Finally I back Copro up against the far wall. The illusions fade away.

“You have a stronger will than one would suspect,” says Copro.

“Cheap illusions never bother me.”

“Speak for yourself,” says Makri. “Those snakes were really disgusting.”

“The Sword of Aracasan is no illusion,” says Copro, suddenly pulling a short blade from beneath his tunic.

I stare at the blade, rather worried by this turn of events. The Sword of Aracasan, a fabulous item long thought lost to the world, has the property of making its bearer invincible in combat. Armed with such a blade, a novice could hew his way through an army.

“That’s not really the sword of—”

Copro swings it at me. The blade travels faster than the eye can see, and were I not already protecting myself with my sword it would have taken my head off. As it is, the flat of my own blade slams into my face and I fly back across the room and bang my head on the four-armed statue. I try to rise but my legs no longer seem to be functioning. Copro smiles. The sword flickers in the air, again faster than the eye can see.

“A remarkable weapon,” he says, and advances towards me. He isn’t paying much attention to Makri. Possibly Copro doesn’t feel threatened by any woman whose hair he’s styled. Makri leaps at him and engages him in combat, but even her gladiatorial skills can’t overcome the Sword of Aracasan. They fight furiously for a minute or so, but each time Makri attempts to land a blow the magical sword parries it, and she’s hard pushed to avoid the answering strokes. Finally she leaps backwards and yells.

“Get him, Thraxas!”

Copro turns towards me. Makri stabs him in the back. He slumps to the floor with a surprised look in his eye.

I struggle to my feet. Makri is looking sadly at the body.

“You should’ve stuck to the beauty trade. You were good at it.”

She sighs.

“Lisutaris isn’t going to be pleased.”

She looks more cheerful.

“On the other hand, I suppose this ends the case? I mean, we’ve killed the bad guy. That usually does it.”

“We’ve killed one bad guy. Covinius is still around and we don’t have any proof it was he and not Lisutaris who killed Ramius.”

I’m bleeding. I rip a length of cloth from a towel and wrap it round my head. The villa is in chaos, with servants running around and screaming.

“Furthermore, I don’t have any proof that Copro killed Darius. He confessed to us, but who’s going to believe it?”

“When Samilius and the Sorcerers come down to investigate, won’t they find things? You know, auras and such like?”

“Maybe. Quite probably Old Hasius and Lasat might find enough here to link Copro to the Avenging Axe and the death of Darius. There’s still the matter of this remaking spell, though. If I knew how that was done, life would be easy.”

“Let’s take the sword,” suggests Makri.

I reach down, but before I can grasp the hilt it vanishes.

“I guess we weren’t worthy.”

I tell the servants that the head of the Civil Guard will be here soon to take care of the crime scene and if they touch anything they’ll all be in big trouble. Having no more time to waste, we depart into the cold and make our way back to the Assemblage.

“Do you have any thazis?” asks Makri.

“You need to calm down?”

“No, I just want some.”

We light some sticks as we ride back to the Royal Hall.

“Lisutaris has better thazis,” says Makri.

“Is she planning on cutting down when she’s Chief Sorcerer?”

Makri doesn’t think so.

“She did say she might be able to get some excellent plants imported from the south once she had better contacts in the Guild.”

“You’re far too keen on thazis these days, Makri. And dwa. You used to be a pain in the butt when you were studying and working all the time, but at least you got things done. What happened to you?”

“I got sad about See-ath,” she says.

“Any chance of cheering up?”

“I’m feeling a bit better after the fight.”

[Contents]