Thraxas Under Siege, page 4
"I had to go a week without beer. It was hell."
Tanrose emerges from the kitchens clutching a pot of stew. She's accompanied by Elsior, the apprentice cook, who's learning the trade.
"I can't believe you went a week without beer, Thraxas," says Tanrose.
"That's how sick I was."
"I was there," says Gurd. "He didn't go a week without beer."
"I did. I remember."
Gurd shakes his head.
"The healer told you to lay off the drink. Two hours later we found you crawling towards the tavern, rambling crazily about how the healers were trying to kill you. It took three men to drag you back to your tent and even then you wouldn't shut up till I brought you a tankard. By that time I was ready to kill you myself, so I figured 'What the hell?' "
Tanrose laughs.
"That's not how I remember the story at all," I protest.
"Enough about the malady," says Gurd, looking round shiftily. "We can't let anyone know."
Gurd is nervous, and not just because his tavern might be quarantined. Since Tanrose agreed to marry him he's been happy and anxious in turns. Tanrose touches his arm. Gurd is embarrassed to be caught in even this mild act of intimacy in front of an old fighting companion like myself. He shoves a bowl of soup towards me. I take it upstairs, unwillingly. Palax and Kaby are a nice enough pair but I don't like them enough to risk a repeat dose of the malady. Besides, I dislike acting as a waiter. Life is demeaning enough. On the other hand, it is a powerful tradition in Turai that you look after anyone who falls sick under your roof. Not taking care of Palax and Kaby would be close to taboo, and bring us bad luck. I'm wary of garnering bad luck with such an important game of cards coming up.
Palax and Kaby are huddled together on the small bed in the guest room. Despite the winter cold, they're both flushed and sweating, and have thrown off their blankets.
"Brought you some soup," I say, setting it down on the floor.
"Thank you," gasps Kaby.
"Don't worry, it'll pass soon. You want anything else, Makri will bring it for you."
I depart as swiftly as I arrived. In the corridor I crash into Makri.
"Hey watch it," she says. "What are you doing?"
"Taking soup to the patients."
"And retreating as fast as possible," notes Makri.
"Damn right I'm retreating as fast as possible. I don't want to come down with the malady again."
"Sickness will come and go. It's part of the natural process of life."
"Says who?"
"Samanatius."
"That old fraud?"
Makri is offended.
"He's the greatest philosopher in the west."
"Then tell him to bring soup for Kaby. And I don't see you volunteering."
Makri looks slightly uncomfortable.
"I don't want to get ill. I've never had the malady. I'm needed for the war effort."
"And I'm needed for an important game of cards."
Makri asks me if I've come up with a plan for raising the money for the game.
"Yes. You ask your employer Lisutaris."
"She won't do it. She's not going to risk five hundred gurans on your dubious card skills."
"My card skills are not dubious,"
"Last week you lost money to Gurd, Rallee, Ravenius and Grax. I'd say that was dubious."
"It was a fluke. The cards were against me. It happens to the best players sometimes. I'm number one chariot at rak. Stop smiling."
"Lisutaris will be here soon," says Makri. "You can ask her yourself."
"What's she coming here for?"
Makri isn't sure, though she thinks the Sorcerer might want to check I've been doing the daily incantation for Herminis. If the authorities ever find out that I was involved in her escape they'll be down on me like a bad spell. I wonder if I might be able to use this to apply a little pressure on Lisutaris. Maybe hint that unless she lends me a sum of money I might neglect to do the incantation?
"Don't you dare try and put any pressure on Lisutaris," says Makri, reading my mind. "She's busy keeping up the magical defence of the city against the Orcs. She doesn't need you fooling around with inconsequential matters."
I'm about to point out that winning money at cards is not an inconsequential matter when Lisutaris herself sweeps up the stairs and into the corridor. The Sorcerer is as well dressed as ever, with a thick fur wrap draped elegantly over the rainbow cloak that denotes her rank, and some delicate white shoes that owe more to winter fashion at court than the practicalities of moving around the streets in bad weather. Not that Lisutaris has to walk anywhere. As head of the Sorcerers Guild and an important member of the war council she has a fleet of carriages at her command. Though her hair is carefully styled and her make-up expertly applied by her personal beautician, I'd say she was looking tired. Slightly under the weather even. The strain of doing too many spells, no doubt. Last month on the battlefield she expended a fantastic amount of energy fighting the Orcs. She pulled down two of their greatest beasts, huge war dragons carrying Prince Amrag and Horm the Dead, creatures that were protected by every defensive spell known to the most powerful of Orcish Sorcerers. I was standing next to Lisutaris at the time. I can still hear her voice as she intoned the spell in some dead, dread forgotten language, bending her will to the almost impossible task of overcoming the huge brute strength of the dragons and the powerful sorcery that protected them. I'd say it was one of the greatest feats of sorcery ever performed in the heat of battle. Since then I doubt she's had much time to rest, and it shows.
I thank the Sorcerer for the gift she sent.
"Would you like some . . . ah, Abbot's Ale? Maybe some Elvish wine?"
Lisutaris senses the rather unwilling nature of my offer, and smiles.
"Keep it for yourself, Thraxas, I'd rather see you drink it than some of these people at the Palace. You'd be surprised how many healthy young men have suddenly found themselves keen to work in the administration rather than report for military duty."
Lisutaris frowns.
"I don't remember this happening in the last war. What happened to the people's spirit?"
It beats me. Lisutaris is right. There's a lot less patriotic fervour around these days. I don't exactly know why, unless it's got something to do with the wealth that's flooded into the city in recent years. That and the dwa, I suppose.
Lisutaris comes into my office. Makri follows on, uninvited. I give her a questioning look.
"I'm the bodyguard," says Makri. "And what's this about the Grand Abbot's Dark Ale?"
"A rare and fine brew."
"I want to try it."
"I'm saving it for a special occasion."
I tell Lisutaris that I've been doing the incantation every morning to protect Herminis, though I don't bother to sound enthusiastic about it. Lisutaris assures me it's safe enough.
"No one's looking for Herminis anymore. The city's got enough troubles."
Lisutaris takes a seat, and takes out an elegant little silver case containing thazis.
"I'm in the middle of an investigation," she says. "And you, being an Investigator, might be able to help me."
"Is someone about to pay me for helping?"
The sorceress shakes her head. She's constructing a thazis stick; quite modestly sized by her standards.
"No pay. It's official war work, part of every citizen's duty."
"I tend to starve when I'm doing my duty."
"You could afford to lose some weight," says Lisutaris. "Anyway I'm not here to hire you. Senator Samilius is in charge of the investigation and he's got agents all over Twelve Seas already. I'm just looking for advice."
Lisutaris inhales deeply from her thazis stick.
"Have you heard of the Storm Calmer?"
"No. What is it?"
"A sorcerous item. One of the items I inherited when I became head of the Guild."
"What's it do?"
"It calms storms."
"Right."
Lisutaris explains that the Storm Calmer is a conch shell imbued with powers to quieten the seas.
"It was made by the Grand Sorcerer Elistratis about eight hundred years ago and brought to Turai by her daughter after Elistratis was killed in a sea battle far down to the south. Elistratis's daughter sailed here through the winter storms, using the conch shell to calm the seas. Or so the story goes."
"Sounds like a useful item," I say. "Particularly in this part of the world. How come it's never used? We lose a lot of ships every year to the weather."
"It's too important for that," explains Lisutaris. "The Storm Calmer is part of our national defence, like the green jewel I use for far-seeing. It's kept secret, for use only if a hostile Sorcerer tries to batter down our sea walls by conjuring up a storm."
"Last time you mentioned one of these important items of national security," I say, "it had been lost. Has the Storm Calmer gone missing?"
"No. It's safe. But its brother has gone missing."
"The Storm Calmer has a brother?"
"In a manner of speaking. No one knew about it till recently but apparently there's another shell called the Ocean Storm. A Turanian captain came across it on the uninhabited isle of Evoli last autumn. Or so he claims. It hasn't really been confirmed by anyone else. He sent a message to the Sorcerers Guild, saying he'd bought it from some ancient Elvish hermit."
"On the isle of Evoli?"
"That's right."
"So it's not really uninhabited?"
"It's uninhabited apart from one hermit."
"No one else? A cook, maybe, or a maid?"
Lisutaris looks annoyed.
"What sort of hermit has a maid? Please stop making irrelevant comments."
"I'm an Investigator. I need the full facts."
"We don't have the full facts. Just a story that a sorcerous artefact exists which is powerful enough to whip up a storm that would batter down Turai's sea walls and let the Orcs sail in."
By now the Mistress of the Sky is rolling another thazis stick. She is inordinately fond of the substance.
"The Ocean Storm was on its way to Turai last week. No ships sail in these weathers, but this one did."
"I saw it," I say. "Limped in, just made it."
Lisutaris nods.
"It was brought in by the first mate and the four remaining crew members, all experienced sailors, so I understand."
"And the captain?"
"Captain Arex was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared."
"Taking the Ocean Storm with him?"
"Exactly. Which is a problem. We don't really know if this item exists or not. None of the surviving crew had ever seen it. According to them they didn't even know their captain had sent a message to the Sorcerers Guild. If it does exist, we can't let it fall into anyone else's hands. Which means that we're now moving heaven, earth and the three moons to find something we're not sure is even in the city. Or even ever existed."
I muse for a moment, and light a thazis stick of my own.
"This all sounds unlikely to me."
"In what way?"
"Every way. A powerful sorcerous item no one's heard of before? You know better than me that these items don't happen along every day of the week."
"True. But we can't take the risk. If an Orcish Sorcerer starts trying to batter down our sea walls with a powerful new weapon, we'll be in trouble."
"It wouldn't be easy to use," I point out.
"True," agrees Lisutaris. "You'd have to be a very powerful Sorcerer indeed to pick up a strange magical talisman and use it right away, particularly for controlling the weather."
She pauses, inhaling from her thazis stick.
"But I could do it. If this Ocean Storm really exists, I could use it. A few others might be able to. The most powerful of the Orcish Sorcerers. Like Horm the Dead. Or Deeziz the Unseen."
I'm slightly surprised to hear the name. Deeziz is reputed to be the most powerful Sorcerer in all the Orcish lands, but he was last sighted somewhere in the mountains of Gzak and no one's heard anything about him for a decade.
"Deeziz? He's not with Amrag's army. No one's seen him since the last war."
"He retreated to a mountaintop to seek wisdom, or so we heard. Some people say he was banished when the Orcs were defeated," says Lisutaris. "Finding out anything about him is next to impossible. He's cloaked himself with so many spells of hiding we can't tell where he is. Even when he did used to appear, no one ever saw his face."
Deeziz always wore a veil. People generally assumed he must be horribly mutilated in some way, and given the brutal nature of Orcish sorcery, it's not unlikely. I ask Lisutaris why she's suddenly mentioned him.
"Has there been news that he's heading this way?"
She shakes her head.
"No news at all. But I thought of him when I heard about the Ocean Storm. He always was a master of the weather. If he suddenly appears outside the city with the Ocean Storm in his hand, we've got a problem. Anyway, it doesn't have to be him. Horm could probably use it. We can't let it fall into their hands."
"Probably it was just some piece of junk the captain was hoping to sell for a profit."
Lisutaris admits this is possible.
"Though I don't know how he'd have hoped to convince me it was real. You don't get to be head of the Sorcerers Guild by buying fake sorcerous items."
"True, it wouldn't have fooled you. But he might've had some idea of selling it to some other hapless member of the government. I've known senators get conned by stupider things than that."
"Can't you use your own sorcery to tell if there's a new sorcerous item in the city?" asks Makri, butting in with a question I was just about to ask myself.
"I haven't come up with anything," replies Lisutaris. "But that's not really conclusive. An unknown sorcerous artefact, inactivated, wouldn't necessarily give out any signals that could be traced. There are a great many objects and people in this city who give off sorcerous vibrations. Picking up some unknown source isn't easy."
"What does the ship's crew say about the captain disappearing?"
"Nothing. They don't know what happened. They were so short-handed that each of the five sailors was at his post, bringing the ship in. And suddenly the captain wasn't there."
"He probably fell overboard drunk," I say. "If he's anything like the other captains around here."
"It might all be nothing," agrees Lisutaris. "But suppose it isn't. Suppose the Ocean Storm is real and someone has stolen it. What would you think?"
"Then I'd think it was serious. It might have fallen into the hands of someone who'd be happy to see the Orcs batter down the harbour walls with a tidal wave and sail their fleet in. Has Samilius found out anything?"
"No."
"No surprise. Samilius is an idiot."
"I know. I've taken charge of the sorcerous part of the investigation and assigned several good Sorcerers to the hunt," says Lisutaris. "I trust you don't think I'm an idiot?"
"I think you're a woman who sent me an excellent gift. What do you want me to do?"
"Help us search," says Lisutaris. "When it comes to asking awkward questions and finding lost goods in strange places, you have some talents."
"I have. Are you sure there's no money involved?"
The Sorcerer looks frustrated.
"Regard it as an extension of the battlefield, Thraxas. This is war."
"Of course. It's my patriotic duty. But there is a matter of supreme importance occupying my attention just now, which really calls for a substantial sum of money. Do you think you could see your way to lending me five hundred gurans?"
Lisutaris is suddenly overtaken by a fit of coughing. I use the opportunity to press my case.
"I'm not asking you to take a risk. It's money loaned at a guaranteed return."
Lisutaris attempts to rise, falters, then falls to the floor. I gaze down at her, perplexed. I didn't think she'd be quite so shocked by a simple request for money.
"Well, you know, maybe three hundred would be enough to get me started—"
"Thraxas, you idiot, can't you see she's sick?" yells Makri.
"Sick?"
Lisutaris's face is turning red and her breath is coming in heavy gasps. Beads of sweat appear on her forehead.
