Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Twenty-Two

Three days later I’m sitting comfortably in front of the fire at the Avenging Axe. It’s early evening and the tavern is not yet crowded. I’m moderately satisfied. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, is now head of the Sorcerers Guild and I have been well paid for my efforts on her behalf.

“Fine efforts, though I say it myself.”

“Many times,” says Makri.

Makri is taking a break before the evening rush. Since the end of the Assemblage she’s been in a fairly benevolent mood. She struggles to manage on the money she gets at the Avenging Axe, so payment for her duties as bodyguard will make her life easier for a while.

“I got paid for fighting. Like being a gladiator really. Except when I was a gladiator I didn’t get my hair done. Well, I did, in fact, but that Orc woman wasn’t really up to the job. A shame about Copro.”

“I understand our female aristocracy is devastated.”

“Tirini Snake Smiter has sent to Pargada for their best man.”

“Why would she do that?” I ask. “Doesn’t everyone say she’s already the most beautiful Sorcerer in the world?”

“So?”

“So why does she need an expert beautician?”

Makri looks at me.

“I doubt you’d understand even if I explained it to you.”

She frowns.

“Now I’ll be an outcast. Which is unfair. I had to kill Copro.”

“Don’t worry about it, Makri. You were already an outcast.”

Makri has cleaned her armour and carefully stored it away. Back at work and needing to earn tips, she’s reverted to the chainmail bikini. The firelight glints on her skin. Sailors and workmen are pleased enough at the sight to hand over a little extra.

My winnings on the election were very modest. I picked up a little on Lisutaris, but I was so busy I missed out on the opportunity to increase them.

“I hate to miss out on a bet. I’d have got more down if Honest Mox’s son hadn’t gone and killed himself with dwa.”

Minarixa the baker. Mox’s son. And young Tribune Visus. The city’s going to hell.

“Don’t involve me in any gambling,” states Makri. “I’m saving my money. I have fees to pay when the Guild College opens. I need to get back to studying. I’m way behind with rhetoric. Four days on the water pipe and I forgot all the best-known speeches from last century.”

I refrain from commenting.

“I’m still puzzled by the witness,” says Makri.

“What witness?”

“Direxan. The Matteshan who saw Covinius emerge from the magic space after killing Ramius. You said no one had ever seen Covinius.”

I sip my beer. Gurd really knows how to serve his beer. And Tanrose really knows how to cook a venison pie. They should get together. They’d be the ideal couple.

“It was all arranged, I imagine.”

“Who by?”

“Cicerius. Or more probably Tilupasis and her boyfriend the Consul.”

“You’re losing me here.”

“Covinius was hired to kill Sunstorm Ramius. Turai hired him. I wasn’t meant to know about him. I wouldn’t have if Hanama hadn’t accidentally learned about it.”

“You mean this city actually hired an Assassin to kill Lisutaris’s main opponent?”

“So I believe. No wonder Cicerius kept telling me to ignore Covinius. He knew all along he wasn’t a danger to Lisutaris.”

Simnia hired Copro. Turai hired Covinius. It was hard to sort it out. I wasn’t really meant to. Makri muses on this for a while.

“Doesn’t Cicerius make a big thing about being the most honest politician in Turai?”

“He does. And he’s right, mostly. He never takes bribes and he never allows the prosecution of opponents on trumped-up charges. When it comes to foreign policy I suppose he has to be pragmatic.”

I drink my beer, and try and calculate the cost of winning the position of head of the Guild. Two murders, several accidental deaths, and gold and dwa beyond count.

“An expensive victory. But worth it to the government. Especially as the city’s masses will end up paying for it in taxes.”

“Are you still in trouble with Praetor Capatius?”

“No, Cicerius is keeping him off my back provided I don’t do any more Tribune-like actions. Which I won’t. Anyone looking for help in an eviction can go elsewhere.”

Senator Lodius sent me a payment for my services. I still don’t like Lodius. I kept the payment.

“Am I still in trouble with the Brotherhood?”

I shake my head. The Traditionals have influence with the Brotherhood and Cicerius has smoothed that one out for us as well.

“Great,” says Makri. “Everything worked out well.”

Lisutaris has been confirmed as head of the Guild. The foreign Sorcerers are already leaving the city. In a week they’ll all be gone, apart from those few still receiving treatment by the city’s doctors after the excesses of the Assemblage.

“How is Sareepa Lightning-Strikes-the-Mountain?” asks Makri.

“Still sick. One of the worst cases of alcoholic poisoning the apothecaries have ever had to deal with, apparently. She’ll thank me in the end.”

As the tavern begins to fill, Makri returns to work. I spend the evening drinking beer, and playing a game of rak with Captain Rallee and a few others.

“Damned Sorcerers,” says Rallee. “You know they were all immune to prosecution for dwa? City’s going to hell.”

Captain Rallee is in a foul temper due to being out on patrol on one of the coldest nights of the year. I’m not planning on leaving the comfort of the tavern for the rest of the winter. Now I’ve been paid, I don’t have to. Come the spring, business should pick up. I just did some sterling service for the city and I’m expecting the city to be grateful. Between them, Cicerius and Lisutaris should be able to put a few wealthy clients my way.

It’s deep into the night by the time I make it upstairs to my rooms. My office is surprisingly warm. A fine fire is lit and an illuminated staff casts a warm glow over the shabby furnishings. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, Makri and Princess Direeva are all unconscious on the floor. I sigh. Makri’s good intentions haven’t lasted for long.

Direeva opens her eyes.

“For a woman who doesn’t like me, you spend a lot of time in my room.”

Direeva shrugs, drunkenly.

“What really happened in the magic space?” I ask her.

Direeva doesn’t look quite so drunk any more.

“You don’t get on well with your brother. He controls the army and you control the Sorcerers. Pretty soon the Southern Hills is going to erupt in a civil war. Turai would much rather have an alliance with Lisutaris’s friend Princess Direeva than your brother.”

“What are you talking about, Investigator?”

“Was Covinius even in Turai? No one ever saw him, apart from you and a phony witness Tilupasis bribed with gold.”

“Of course Covinius was in Turai. He killed Ramius.”

I look at her.

“Maybe he did. But an intelligent man might think it was you.”

“No one would mistake you for an intelligent man,” says Direeva.

“If Turai paid you to kill Ramius, I wouldn’t be surprised. And I won’t be surprised if Turai comes to your aid when you’re deposing the King.”

The Princess laughs.

“A foolish theory. Was not Hanama the Turanian Assassin also in the magic space?”

“She was. Protecting her friend Lisutaris, I imagine. She might have killed Ramius. But I think you’re a more likely candidate.”

I don’t really care one way or the other.

“You expend a lot of effort in your work,” says Direeva.

“Is that a compliment?”

“No. Your work is pointless.”

“It’s better than rowing a slave galley.”

I haul Makri to her feet and drag her along the corridor. Restricted space or not, she can entertain her friends in her own room. Direeva takes Lisutaris.

“Poor Copro,” mutters Lisutaris, coming briefly back to consciousness.

“Don’t worry. There will be another brilliant young beautician emerging next season. Now you’re head of the Guild, you’ll be number one client.”

“Sharp as an Elf’s ear,” says Lisutaris, but whether she means herself, Copro or me, I’m not sure.

Now my room is clear of intoxicated Sorcerers and barmaids, I have a final beer before going to bed. I wonder how long my term of office as Tribune is supposed to last. However long it is, I’m withdrawing from politics. A man should never get involved with these people. It’s far too dangerous.