Thraxas Under Siege, page 5
"She's got the winter malady," says Makri.
"She can't have. She's head of the Sorcerers Guild."
I gaze down at her on the floor, cursing my luck. One of the richest women in Turai, right here in the Avenging Axe, and before she can listen to my business proposition she comes down with the malady. I've always felt that the gods had it in for me.
"Get Chiaraxi," says Makri. "I'll put Lisutaris in your bed."
"I don't think that's really the best place for—"
"Get the healer!" yells Makri.
While I'm not at all pleased to have a sufferer from the winter malady dumped on my own bed, there doesn't seem to be a better alternative. It's a serious matter having the head of the Sorcerers Guild fall sick at a time like this.
"If she comes round, ask her about lending me some money."
I depart. Before making my way along Quintessence Street to the home of Chiaraxi, I stop downstairs to appraise Gurd of current events. The brawny old Barbarian looks alarmed.
"Lisutaris? Sick? Here? Can't she go somewhere else?"
"Not in her condition."
Gurd curses under his breath. It's going to be difficult to keep this secret. A quarantine order is looking more and more likely. It's unfortunate timing. The tavern is full of mercenaries and soldiers. Gurd's business has never been so good. Provided the city doesn't get destroyed by the Orcs, he's in line for a healthy profit over the next few months. I leave him to his worries and hurry along to fetch Chiaraxi. Chiaraxi is alarmed as I barge into her office, possibly due to the fact that the last time I arrived here in a hurry was because Makri was about to die from a crossbow bolt, fired into her chest by Sarin the Merciless, one of the worst villains ever to blight Turai.
"Makri? Is she—"
"It's Lisutaris. She's come down with a bad case of the malady."
Chiaraxi frowns, and starts loading herbs into a bag.
"How bad?"
"Very bad, I'd say. Started coughing and then collapsed. I'd have thought such a powerful Sorcerer would have some protection against illness."
Chiaraxi shakes her head.
"Sorcery's no use against the winter malady. You can die just the same."
We hurry back towards the Avenging Axe. Chiaraxi asks me if it's the first case there's been. I admit it isn't.
"Palax and Kaby are sick with it."
"Has Gurd reported it to the Prefect?"
I remain silent. Chiaraxi purses her lips, indicating disapproval. I take the healer up the outside staircase that leads directly into my office, not wanting the customers in the tavern downstairs to suspect what's happening. Unfortunately my office isn't empty. I left without placing a locking spell on the door, and Captain Rallee and his new lady friend Moolifi are sitting together on the couch. Makri is standing uncomfortably by the door into the only other room, where Lisutaris is lying sick.
The Captain is around my age, but better preserved. His blond hair, long and tied at the back, is only just beginning to streak with grey, and his lifetime of pounding the streets has kept him in shape. We used to be friends. We fought together, a long time ago, and we worked together when I was an Investigator at the Palace and he had a far cushier job at Palace Security. Since I got sacked and the Captain got forced out by the endless politicking and favouritism that goes on there, we haven't get on so well. The Captain doesn't like the fact that's he's back on the beat, working a tough patch like Twelve Seas. From his point of view, private Investigators only get in the way.
I've never seen Moolifi before, and know her only by reputation. They say she's got a good voice. She has a lot of fair hair and a good figure, which probably helps things along. She looks quite a lot younger than the Captain. I get the impression he's not displeased to be here with her at his side. Puts him in a good light. A lot of people must have been vying for the singer's attention and the Captain doesn't mind it at all that he's come out the winner.
"Captain? What brings you here?"
The Captain looks at Chiaraxi.
"Who's sick?"
"Me," I reply.
"What's the matter?"
"That's between me and Chiaraxi," I reply.
The Captain looks suspicious. I intimate that I'm in a hurry to get my medical problem attended to so could he please make it quick. It turns out he wants Moolifi to stay at the Avenging Axe for a few days.
"She's had some trouble up at the Golden Unicorn."
"What sort of trouble?"
"Trouble with her manager. She had to leave in a hurry. I'd like you to keep an eye on her for a few days till she gets something sorted out."
Normally I could see reasons for objecting to this. If Moolifi is in trouble in her theatre in Kushni it probably means the Society of Friends is involved, because that criminal organisation runs the Golden Unicorn. I'd rather not offend the Society of Friends. Furthermore, I don't owe the Captain any favours. However, with Lisutaris sick in the next room I'm keen to get the Captain out of here as quickly as possible. I don't want to let the Civil Guards know that Gurd's been hiding a case of the winter malady from the authorities. So I tell him it's fine with me.
"If Gurd has a spare room for her I'll check she's safe. Now if you'd let me get on with my examination?"
As soon as they're gone I take Chiaraxi through to the bedroom. Lisutaris looks bad. Paying no further attention to either Makri or me, Chiaraxi takes out her herbs and potions and gets to work.
I tell Makri that we've got a problem.
"Captain Rallee wants to put Moolifi in the guest room. We can't let him find Palax and Kaby in there."
"So what are we going to do?"
"Carry them into your room."
Makri's face twitches.
"I don't want them in there."
"There's nowhere else."
"Couldn't they come here?"
"I've already got one sick person. You want me to look after everyone?"
Chiaraxi abruptly halts our argument by rising swiftly and issuing orders.
"Lisutaris is very ill. I want her isolated. She can't be moved and no one else is to come in here. If you have to move Palax and Kaby take them to Makri's room."
"I don't want them there," protests Makri again.
"I don't want Lisutaris in my room," I add.
"I don't care what you want," says Chiaraxi. "Do as I tell you."
Makri looks nonplussed. She turns to me.
"Can she order us around like this?"
"Stop wasting time and do as I say," says Chiaraxi.
It's difficult to argue with a healer when she's engaged in ministering to the sick. Makri and I reluctantly comply with her instructions. We swiftly haul Palax and Kaby into Makri's room.
"This can't be right," complains Makri. "I've only got one small room. How come I have to take two sick people? How can I study when they're here? What if I get the malady?"
We only just get the moving of sickly bodies completed before Moolifi and Gurd arrive upstairs. Gurd looks at me questioningly. I give a slight nod to indicate that it's safe to let her into the guest room. Moolifi thanks Gurd. Her voice is rather cool and gracious, less rough than I'd have expected a Kushni entertainer's to be. She says she's tired, and would like to lie down for a while.
"This is bad," says Gurd, after the singer departs.
"You're right it's bad. The head of the Sorcerers Guild is about to die in my bed and God knows what the Renowned and Truthful Chronicle will say about that."
We return to my office. Chiaraxi appears from the bedroom, briskly efficient.
"You must inform the authorities," she says.
"I can't," says Gurd. "They'll shut me down."
"They'll do a lot worse if they find you're trying to conceal an outbreak of the malady," points out the healer.
"I won't report it," says Gurd, stubbornly.
"Then I will," replies Chiaraxi.
"We can't keep it secret anyway," points out Makri. "People are going to notice if the head of the Sorcerers Guild isn't around."
True, of course. Lisutaris is among the most important people in the city. She can't just disappear. It's our duty to let the authorities know what's happened. It seems as if Gurd has no alternative but to report it all to the local prefect.
There's a very light tap on the inside door. Everyone looks towards it, suspiciously. I open it carefully. I'm confronted by a small, pale woman with dark hair who I'd take to be a worker in the local market if I didn't recognise her as Hanama, number three in the Assassins Guild. I stare at her balefully.
"What do you want?"
"Makri."
Hanama is softly spoken. Listening to her talk, you'd never believe she'd killed so many people. I detest her, as I do all Assassins. A foul and murderous breed without whom the city would be far better off. I'm about to slam the door in her face when Makri hurries over.
"What is it?" she asks.
Hanama puts her mouth to Makri's ear and whispers.
"Stop having murderous Assassins' conversations at my door," I say, harshly.
Hanama suddenly clutches at her throat and falls forward. A rather puzzling occurrence. She's not the sort of woman to take an insult so badly.
"She's got the malady," cries Makri.
"She can't have," I yell. "Not her. Not in my office."
I turn towards Gurd.
"This is getting out of hand. We have to get these sick people out of the tavern."
Chiaraxi bends over the Assassin.
"Carry her to the couch," she says.
"I refuse to let a sick Assassin lie on my couch."
Chiaraxi and Makri ignore me. Hanama is laid on my couch. Sweat pours from her forehead and her breath comes in heavy gasps. I glare at Hanama.
"Couldn't you get sick somewhere else? You're not staying here. I refuse to allow it."
"No one in Turai can refuse aid to a sick guest," says Chiaraxi.
"She's not a guest. She just barged her way in here."
It's hopeless. Chiaraxi is already busy with her herbs.
"Bring a blanket," she instructs.
"I refuse to let you cover Hanama with my blanket," I protest, but it's useless. Makri is already fetching it.
"How can Hanama be my guest? I don't even like her. Ask anyone."
No one is listening to me. I take out a bottle of klee and drink a good shot, shuddering as it burns my throat. Now I've got a sick Sorcerer in my bedroom and a sick Assassin in my office. I shake my head, and wonder how it can possibly have happened. It's not like these people don't have homes of their own where they could be ill.
Chapter Six
Deputy Consul Cicerius hurries down to Twelve Seas as soon as he receives my message. I haven't yet informed Prefect Drinius. I'm on bad terms with our local prefect and will leave it to Cicerius to do what's necessary. When Cicerius arrives I'm hesitant about actually letting him in my office. The way things are going I'm half expecting him to plummet to the floor the moment he enters.
"I have had the malady," he says, and sweeps past me. His assistant, Hansius, doesn't look quite so comfortable in the presence of disease. Cicerius is surprised to see Hanama lying on the couch. I'm not certain if he recognises her. Asleep, she looks more child-like than ever. Not at all like a woman who once killed an Elf lord and an Orc lord both in the same day, and a senator as well, as Hanama is reputed to have done.
"There is more than one victim? Where is Lisutaris?"
"In the next room."
I'm not thrilled at the prospect of the Deputy Consul of Turai entering my only private room, not least because it's even more untidy than my office. I get the strange feeling that I'm back in the army and my personal kit is about to be inspected by an officer. I start to bridle. One comment about the state of my rooms and I'll sling them out. Chiaraxi accompanies them into the bedroom. Gurd has gone back downstairs, leaving me alone for the moment with Makri, apart from Hanama, who's sleeping under the influence of some medicinal draught. Even so, I draw Makri to the far side of the room and talk to her in a low voice, careful lest Hanama should overhear. You can't trust an Assassin, even a sick one.
"What did Hanama want? Is it something I should know about?"
Makri shrugs.
"I don't know. She collapsed before she could tell me."
"Didn't she even give you a hint?"
Makri shakes her head.
"You saw how quickly she went down."
It's a mystery. Damn Hanama. Couldn't she have stayed on her feet for another thirty seconds?
"It must be something really serious," says Makri.
"I suppose so. Unless she just felt like talking to you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" declares Makri, sharply.
"Last month she brought you flowers."
"Will you just drop that?" says Makri. "There's no need to keep going on and on about it. Don't you have something else to think about?"
Hansius reappears and asks me to join the Deputy Consul. I notice his eyes flicker towards Makri. Hansius has been in my office before but I don't think he's ever encountered Makri in her chainmail bikini. Plenty of people regard it as a remarkable sight. Not just her breasts; Makri is the only woman I've ever seen with tightly defined stomach muscles. Even the dancers in the theatres up-town tend to have softer bellies. Of course, all decent women keep their stomachs well covered up.
Knowing that if Hansius keeps staring, Makri will say something rude, I take his arm and guide him back into my private room where Deputy Consul Cicerius is standing beside Lisutaris, looking thoughtful. The sorceress is conscious, but very weak.
Cicerius thanks me for notifying him.
"This is bad. I do not want news of Lisutaris's illness to be made known. It would be disastrous for the city's morale. Furthermore, and most importantly, the Orcs must not learn of it."
What the Deputy Consul says is true. Lisutaris is so important to the defence of the city that news of her incapacity might be all the Orcs needed before staging an attack.
Cicerius is a thin, grey-haired man, trusted by the population though not loved. He's too vain and too austere to generate much affection. But he's a better man than our highest official, Consul Kalius. Kalius was injured on the battlefield, and not gloriously. He's now recuperating but is too traumatised to take the reins of power, which leaves Cicerius in charge. The strain is showing. His face is thinner and his toga, normally as clean, white and well pressed as it could be, shows signs of having been put on in a hurry.
"The healer is concerned by Lisutaris's condition but not overly so. The Mistress of the Sky is a strong woman and should recover."
I glance at Lisutaris. Her eyes are open, but I'm not sure if she can hear us or not.
"So are you going to send a wagon to ship her back home?"
"No. She must stay here while she recovers," continues Cicerius. "Your healer advocates complete rest."
I start complaining loudly. Cicerius glares at me.
"Do you not trust this healer Chiaraxi?"
I'm forced to admit I do.
"She keeps people going in Twelve Seas and that's not easy."
Cicerius nods.
"I have the feeling she is to be trusted. I could send down healers from the Palace, but . . ."
He ponders for a while.
"But I would rather as few people learn of this as possible. Already this month our intelligence services have rooted out an Orcish spy in the Palace and another one in the senate. There are probably more. I'd far rather leave Lisutaris to recover here, away from all prying eyes. Makri is already employed as bodyguard to protect her. I'll send down a few other agents, discreetly, to ensure her safety. All being well, our sorceress should recover fully in a few days with no one even knowing she was ill."
"Won't people miss her at the Palace? Or on the war council?"
Cicerius shakes his head.
"I can assign her duties which would keep her away from the war council for a few days. And we can use her double for some public appearances, to allay any suspicions."
"Her double?"
Cicerius informs me that the Consul's office has people ready to play the parts of various important citizens in Turai, for precisely this sort of emergency.
"There is an employee at the Palace—a keeper of imperial records—who has already served in this capacity on occasion."
