Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Three

Despite the ice, snow and general misery, many Turanians are still working hard. The Transport Guild rides wagons over almost impassable roads, distributing food and supplies around the city. The blacksmiths in their forges hammer out iron wheel rims to keep the wagons going. Whores wrap up as warmly as they can and walk the streets gamely. The Civil Guard still patrol, or at least the lower ranks do, while their officers remain comfortable in their stations. And the Messengers Guild count it as a point of honour to always make it to their destination.

The young messenger who climbs the stairs to my outside door looks as though he’s had a difficult journey. His cloak is caked with snow and his face is blue with the cold. I rip open the scroll and read the message. It’s from Cicerius, Turai’s Deputy Consul. That’s a bad start. Cicerius wants me to visit him immediately. That’s worse.

I can’t work up any enthusiasm for visiting Cicerius. I’ve had a lot of dealings with the Deputy Consul recently. On the whole these have worked out well enough, but he’s never an easy man to work for. He’s Turai’s most honest politician—possibly Turai’s only honest politician—and the city’s most brilliant lawyer, but he’s also cold, austere and utterly unsympathetic to any Private Investigator who feels the need to interrupt his work to take in the occasional beer. On more than one occasion Cicerius, on finding me drunk in pursuit of a criminal, has delivered the sort of stinging reprimand that makes him such a feared opponent in the law courts or the Senate. I can only take so much of this. Furthermore, while there’s no denying he is a fair man, he’s never found it necessary to bump up my fee, even when I’ve done him sterling service. He comes from the traditional line of aristocrats who think that the lower classes should be satisfied with a reasonable rate of pay for a fair day’s work. In view of some of the dangers I’ve faced on his behalf, I’d be inclined to interpret ‘reasonable’ a good deal more generously than Cicerius.

I can’t ignore the summons. I’m desperate to make it out of Twelve Seas and back into the wealthier parts of town. I’m never going to do that unless I make some inroads into Turai’s aristocracy. Since I was thrown out of my job at the Palace I’ve hardly had a client who wasn’t a lowlife. It’s never going to earn me enough to pay the rent in Thamlin, home of the upper classes. And home of a few rather select and expensive Investigators, I reflect, as I make ready to leave. You wouldn’t catch anyone from the Venarius Investigation Agency freezing to death on the docks in mid-winter.

I suddenly remember that Makri has borrowed my magic warm cloak.

“Damn the woman!” I roar. I can’t believe I have to venture out in these freezing temperatures without the warm cloak. How could I be so foolish? Now Makri gets to stay nice and comfy while listening to that fraud of a philosopher Samanatius. Meanwhile Thraxas, on his way to do a proper man’s job, has to freeze to death. Damn it.

I rummage around in the chest in the corner of my bedroom and drag out a couple of old cloaks and tunics. I try putting on an extra layer of clothes but it’s difficult, because my waistline has expanded dramatically in the past few years and nothing seems to fit. Finally I just have to wrap an ancient cloak over my normal attire, cram on a fur hat I once took from a deceased Orc and venture out. The wind goes straight through me. By the time I’m halfway along Quintessence Street I’m as cold as the ice queen’s grave, and getting colder.

The city’s Prefects have been doing their best to keep the main roads passable. If I can make it to Moon and Stars Boulevard I should be able to catch a landus up town, but getting there through the side roads is almost impossible. The streets are already treacherous with ice, and fresh snow is falling all the time. I haven’t been out in weather like this since my regiment fought in the far north, and that was a long time ago, when I was a lot lighter and nimbler of foot. By the time I make it to the Boulevard I’m wet, shivering and cursing Makri for tricking me into giving her the warm cloak.

I have a stroke of good fortune when a one-horse cab drops a merchant off right in front of me. I climb in and tell the driver to take me to the Thamlin. The landus crawls up the Boulevard, through Pashish and over the river. Here the streets are a little clearer, but the large gardens are all snow-bound and the fountains are frozen over. The summons was to Cicerius’s home rather than the Imperial Palace, and the driver, on hearing the address, gives me his opinions on Cicerius, which aren’t very high.

“Okay, the guy is famous for his honesty,” says the driver. “But so what? He commissions a new statue of himself every year. That’s vanity on a big scale. Anyway, he’s a Traditional and they’re as corrupt as they come. I tell you, the way the rich are bleeding this city I’ll be pleased if Lodius and the Populares party throw them all out. How’s a landus driver meant to make a living the way they keep piling on the taxes? You know how much horse feed has gone up in the last year?”

The King and his administration are not universally popular. Plenty of people would like to see some changes. I sympathise, more or less, but I prefer to stay out of politics.

The landus deposits me outside Cicerius’s large town house. There’s a Securitus Guildsman huddled over a small fire in a hut at the gate who checks my invitation before ushering me in. I hurry up the path past the frozen bushes and beat on the door, meanwhile thinking that this job had better be worth the journey.

A servant answers the door. I show her my invitation. She looks at me like I’m probably a man who forges invitations, then withdraws to consult with someone inside. I’m left freezing on the step. I struggle to keep my temper under control. It takes a long time for the door to open again. This time the servant motions me inside.

“What took you so long? A man could die out there. You looking to have your nice garden cluttered up with dead Investigators?”

I’m ushered into a guest room. I remove my outer cloak and start to thaw myself out in front of the fire. Whilst I’m in the process of this, a young girl, nine or ten, arrives and stares at me. The daughter of one of the servants, I presume, from her rather unkempt appearance.

“You’re fat,” she says.

“And you’re ugly,” I reply, seeing no reason to be insulted by the children of the domestic help.

The kid immediately bursts into tears and retreats from the room, which cheers me a little. She should have known better than to cross swords with Thraxas. Thirty seconds later Cicerius appears. Clutching the hem of his toga is the same young girl, sobbing hysterically and denouncing me as the man who insulted her.

“What have you been saying to my daughter?” demands Cicerius, fixing me with his piercing eyes.

“Your daughter? I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“Do you normally insult the children you encounter in your clients’ houses?”

“Hey, she started it,” I protest.

Cicerius does his best to calm his daughter before sending her off to find her mother. The little brat is still in tears and Cicerius is pained. This has got our interview off to a bad start. With Cicerius, that usually seems to happen.

“Have you been drinking?”

“I’ve always been drinking. But don’t let it stop you from offering me some wine. You know the landus drivers in Turai are turning against the Traditionals?”

“For what reason?”

“Too many taxes.”

Cicerius dismisses this with the slightest movement of his head. He’s not about to discuss government policy with the likes of me. On the wall of the guest room is a large painting of Cicerius addressing the Senate, and there’s a bust of him in a niche in the corner. The landus driver was right about his vanity.

“I need your help,” he says. “Though, as always when we meet, I wonder why.”

“Presumably you’ve got a job which is unsuitable for the better class of Investigator.”

“Not exactly. I hired the better class of Investigator but he fell sick. As did the second.”

“Okay, so I’m third choice.”

“Fourth.”

“You’re really selling me the job, Cicerius. Maybe you’d better just describe it.”

“I want you to act as an observer at the Sorcerers Assemblage.”

“Sorry,” I say. “Can’t do it. Thanks for the offer, I’ll see myself out.”

“What?” Cicerius is startled by my abrupt refusal. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Personal reasons,” I reply, and head for the door. I’m not about to tell the Deputy Consul that attending the Sorcerers Assemblage would make me feel small, powerless, insignificant and a general failure in life.

Cicerius plants himself in front of me.

“Personal reasons? That is not an acceptable reason for refusing the commission. I am not offering you this job for fun. I’m offering you it because it is a service that Turai needs from you. When the city needs you, personal reasons have no significance. Now kindly sit down and listen.”

The Deputy Consul could easily make my life in Turai very awkward. He wouldn’t have to pull too many strings to have my licence revoked. So I sit down and listen, and drink his wine, but I don’t make any pretence I’m enjoying it.

“You are aware that the Sorcerers are to elect a new head of their Guild?”

I am. The Deputy Consul doesn’t have to tell me that this is an important matter for Turai, as well as every other Human nation. The Sorcerers Guild in each land has its own organisation and its own officials, but unlike many of the other Guilds, the Sorcerers have an international dimension. While a member of the Turanian Bakers Guild would probably not be too interested in the Simnian Bakers Guild, every magic user in the west looks up to the leader of the Sorcerers Guild. The post carries a lot of weight and brings a great deal of prestige to the home city and state.

“Our King and our Consul are most keen that a Turanian is elected new head of the Guild.”

I’m not surprised. Turai has been slipping in political importance for a long time now. We used to be a big voice in the League of Independent City States, but that organisation has now almost fallen apart, riven by internal rivalries, leaving the small state of Turai dangerously exposed. We’re in the front line against the Orcs to the east. To make things worse, Nioj, our northern neighbour and historical enemy, has spent the last decade making threatening noises. King Lamachus would like nothing better than to swallow us up, and if he decides to do it there doesn’t seem much prospect of anyone else coming to our aid. Turai is still a great friend of the Elves, but the Elves are a long way away. It would make a lot of sense to cement the Sorcerers Guild to our city state.

I can see problems ahead.

“Are we seriously going to try for this? Who have we got for the post? There are a lot of powerful Sorcerers in the world, and the way Turanian Sorcerers have been dying in the past few years, I don’t see who we could nominate.”

Cicerius nods, and sips some wine from a silver goblet.

“We had hopes for Tas of the Eastern Lightning. Very powerful.”

“But not very loyal. It’s probably just as well he got killed, he’d have sold us out in the end. I guess Mirius Eagle Rider would have been the next best choice till he handed in his toga. But who else is there? Old Hasius the Brilliant is too old, and Harmon Half Elf doesn’t qualify for head of the Human Sorcerers Guild.”

“We considered Melus the Fair,” says Cicerius. “She is strong. But she’s already employed as Stadium Sorcerer and the people like her. Removing her from that post would be very unpopular. However, we do have another very excellent Sorcerer. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“You’re not serious.”

“And why not? Lisutaris is very, very powerful. It was she who overcame the Eight-Mile Terror which almost destroyed the city last year. She has a good reputation at home and abroad because she fought valiantly in the last Orc War. Even now people still talk about the way she brought a flight of war dragons crashing from the sky.”

“I was there. I remember the incident. And very impressive it was. But that was more than fifteen years ago. Before Lisutaris developed into the city’s most enthusiastic thazis user.”

Cicerius pretends not to understand me.

“Does she use thazis?”

“Does she? Come on, Cicerius, Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, might be a heavy-duty Sorcerer, but she lives for the weed.”

Cicerius is untroubled.

“In these decadent times, Thraxas, we cannot set our standards as high as we once might have. You know as well as I do that a great deal of degeneracy has taken root in the Sorcerers Guild as well as elsewhere. Dwa abuse is common, and the drinking habits of many of our Sorcerers leave a great deal to be desired. For some reason Sorcerers seem very prone to this. Compared to dwa and alcohol, thazis is a very mild substance. I do not approve of it but I do not see it as a serious impediment. You, for instance, use thazis quite openly, despite it still being illegal.”

I doubt that Cicerius fully appreciates the nature of Lisutaris’s habit. Many people use the occasional stick to calm them down. On a busy night, the Avenging Axe is thick with thazis smoke. But Lisutaris’s liking for thazis is on a different level. She actually invented a complicated new kind of water pipe to enable her to ingest more. She spends half her life in a world of dreams. Last time I was at her villa I found her comatose on the floor after successfully developing a spell for making the plants grow faster. Still, none of this is really my concern. Lisutaris is not a bad sort as Sorcerers go, and I’d be happy enough to see her as head of the Guild.

“So why do you need me?”

“Because we have good reason to fear that the election will not be as fair as we would wish,” replies Cicerius. “Your job would be to ensure that it is.”

Cicerius’s daughter appears behind him. She makes a face at me. I let it pass. Cicerius carries on.

“There are other candidates for the job and their nations are equally keen to succeed. We fear that some of these lands may not be averse to using underhand tactics.”

“Unlike Turai?”

“Unlike Turai.”

“So you’re not wanting me to do anything illegal?”

“If you are caught doing anything illegal, the government will disown you.”

“That’s not quite the same thing.”

Cicerius shrugs.

“Am I being hired to make sure the election is fair or to make sure Lisutaris is elected?”

“We are confident that if the election is fair, then Lisutaris will be elected,” replies the Deputy Consul.

“In other words, I’m to stop at nothing to get her the post?”

Cicerius’s lips twitch, which is as close as he ever comes to smiling.

“It is very important to Turai that Lisutaris secures the position. However, I repeat, if you are implicated in anything illegal, the government will disown you.”

“I don’t really understand why I’m the man for the job, Cicerius. Wouldn’t it be better to send someone from Palace Security?”

“I have selected you.”

It’s possible that the Deputy Consul is having problems with Palace Security. It’s headed by Rittius, a bitter rival of his. Cicerius doesn’t elaborate, but he points out that I am fairly well qualified for the mission.

“You have good investigating skills. You have some knowledge of sorcery, albeit slight. And your uncouth manners will not offend the Sorcerers as much as they might offend others.”

“I guess not. Sorcerers can be pretty uncouth themselves when they get some wine inside them.”

The Deputy Consul acknowledges that this is true.

“Turai will not, of course, be relying solely on you. We will have many representatives catering to the needs of the Sorcerers. Every effort will be made to make them look favourably on Turai. However, many other nations are keen to win the post. I feel that you might well be able to alert us to any underhand dealing that may occur.”

I finish off my wine.

“Possibly. But the fact remains that I don’t want to go to the Sorcerers Assemblage. And I don’t need the work. I won a lot of money on our trip to Avula.”

“You lost it all before you returned to Turai and you are now sorely in need.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my own sources of information. You will go to the Assemblage.”

Every time I end up working for the Deputy Consul, it’s something I’d rather not be doing. It never seems to bother him.

“You know the Sorcerers don’t allow civilians at the Assemblage? It’s Guild members and their staff only, and they’re strict about it. So unless you can get me a position as Lisutaris’s secretary, they’re not going to let me in.”

“I doubt that you would be an acceptable secretary for Lisutaris,” replies Cicerius. “But I have already dealt with the problem. The Sorcerers Guild does allow several observers from the government of the host city to attend, as a matter of courtesy. I will be there for much of the time.”

“You’re the Deputy Consul. If I walk into the Assemblage claiming to be a government official they’ll be down on me like a bad spell.”

Cicerius makes an impatient gesture.

“As I said, I have dealt with the problem. You will be there as a representative of the people of Turai. I am nominating you as a Tribune of the People.”

“A what?”

“A Tribune of the People. Are you not familiar with this post?”

I shake my head.

“It used to be a famous position in Turai. There were six Tribunes of the People, and they played an important role in the governance of the city. They were, as the name implies, responsible for representing the interests of the general population in city affairs. Three were elected by the population and three were nominated by the King and his administration.”

“When was this?”

“The institution fell into disuse about one hundred and fifty years ago. But it is still within my power to nominate Tribunes. I have already appointed Sulinius and Visus, both Senators’ sons, to assist at the Assemblage. You will be the third.”

I drink more wine. It’s a fine vintage. Though not given to excessive drinking, Cicerius keeps his cellars well stocked. An aristocrat has to, or he loses status.

“How come the post of Tribune was abandoned?”

“They fell out of favour with the King when they became too keen on supporting radical policies. After some civil unrest it was felt that they were no longer necessary, which was wise. It is far better to leave the administration of a city to the King and his officials. But none of this need concern you. You are not expected to do anything as Tribune. It is merely a convenient way of gaining access to the Assemblage.”

I’m dubious.

“Are you sure I don’t have to do anything? If there are any official duties involved, I’m not interested.”

Cicerius assures me there are no duties involved.

“Look on it as a temporary honorary post.”

“Is there a salary?”

“No. But we will be paying you for your time. Now listen carefully. We are facing some formidable opposition. The Simnians have nominated one of their own Sorcerers, and the Simnians are enemies of Turai. It is vital that their candidate is not elected. Unfortunately, Lasat, Axe of Gold, acting head of the Sorcerers Guild, is believed to favour them, which makes our task more difficult. Our city will have to make a great effort to ensure that Lisutaris gathers sufficient votes to at least make it into the final stages of the process. Are you familiar with Tilupasis, widow of Senator Gerinius?”

“I’ve heard of her. Runs some sort of salon.”

“Indeed. She is commonly described as Turai’s most influential woman.”

“Didn’t she publicly criticise you a while back? Something to do with wasting money on a statue?”

Cicerius brushes this away.

“We have had our disagreements. Tilupasis has an unfortunate habit of speaking out of turn. Nonetheless, she is a woman of considerable influence. She has proved herself to be a highly efficient organiser, and the King himself was pleased at the reception she gave for our Elvish visitors last year. Consul Kalius feels that she can play an important role in the vote-winning process.”

Cicerius, great speaker that he is, doesn’t give away too much in the way of unguarded emotions, but I get the feeling he’s not entirely convinced about this. Women are forbidden to enter politics in Turai, and an aristocratic Traditional like the Deputy Consul never feels wholly comfortable with any sign of female influence in the city. However, Cicerius can’t disregard the views of the Consul, his superior.

“Kalius trusts Tilupasis. . .” continues Cicerius.

I bet he does. They’re strongly rumoured to be having an affair.

“. . . and indeed, there is every reason to believe that she will perform her duties of hospitality well. I have already instructed Visus and Sulinius to listen to her views respectfully, and I now tell you the same. With Tilupasis to organise our hospitality, Visus and Sulinius to cater to the Sorcerers’ needs, and you to make sure there is nothing untoward going on, I am confident that Turai can succeed.”

Cicerius carries on in this manner for some time. My spirits sink lower. Arrogant Sorcerers, wealthy young senators’ sons and Turai’s most influential matron. What a collection. I’ll be the only ignobly born person in the whole place and probably as welcome as an Orc at an Elvish wedding. Thraxas, Tribune of the People. That’s going to cause a few laughs when word gets around Twelve Seas.

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