Thraxas of Turai

by Martin Scott

  ‘Do you think she did?’ asks Anumaris.

  ‘Possibly. I don’t think it could be proved.’

  ‘I heard though my guild that Major Stranachus has been talking to some of the Niojan sorcerers. He might be hoping they could look back in time and see how the Legate died.’

  I shake my head. Everything just became worse. Life was simpler when I was in the middle of a phalanx, holding a spear. I never volunteered to sort out complicated matters of state. It’s not something I’m good at. ‘I need to talk to Lisutaris. Before that I’ll need a decent bottle of beer.’

  Anumaris shakes her head. ‘You can’t drink beer before talking to Lisutaris.’

  ‘Who says I can’t?’

  ‘Lisutaris. And me.’

  ‘To hell with you both. Droo, round up every beer in the area.’

  Anumaris rises, places her hand on Droo’s shoulder, physically preventing her from rising. ‘Our Commander forbade you drinking to excess and instructed me to make sure you didn’t.’

  Anumaris seems to be learning to stand up for herself. I don’t like it. I shake my head again, swiftly locate a bottle of beer I hid near the campfire, and storm off, annoyed at everything. No one tells Thraxas he can’t drink beer. I’ll have something to say to Lisutaris about this. At this moment, trumpets sound the advance.

  ‘Dammit.’ I’m obliged to turn round and march back to the wagon. Droo is already attaching the horses. Rinderan is magically throwing our belongings in the back. Anumaris glares at me. ‘Do you have beer hidden everywhere?’

  ‘No. I’ve drunk most of it. I have a few left for emergencies.’

  I climb into the wagon. Droo jerks the reins, and we trundle forward with the rest of the army, now only a few miles from the border of the City State of Turai.

  Chapter Six

  Dragons continue to track our progress; young, fast beasts, high above, out of range of sorcery. The army is wary though we’re becoming used to them. Neither the light, skirmishing troops posted along our flanks nor our advance scouts report any other enemy activity. We advance through the afternoon, travelling over territory familiar to every Turanian exile. We’ve crossed the River Turisa which marks the eastern border of the city-state. Turai itself is less than fifty miles from here. After a brief climb through low hills we come into farmland, normally fertile, but now bare. It should be coming to life with wheat and barley but the farmers have fled and the crops remain unplanted. If we come through this, the population of Turai will have problems feeding itself in the coming year. I banish the thought; we have more to worry about at the moment.

  Our advance halts in the late evening. I leave the wagon and hurry towards Lisutaris’s position. Her command tent is already in place, erected by sorcery. If I can get there quickly enough I might be able to talk to her before she’s involved in her endless meetings with her senior officers. My progress is interrupted by Makri, who’s carrying papers and looking unhappy.

  ‘I’m feeling stupid,’ she says.

  From a woman who’s never shown any qualms about displaying her intelligence, it’s an unusual statement. ‘Why?’

  Makri waves the papers in my face. ‘Arichdamis’s mathematics. It’s so complicated.’

  ‘Didn’t you know that already?’

  ‘This is even more complicated than I imagined. He’s creating a pathway for sorcery to protect the trench. It involves working out the volumes of all these interconnecting cones and it takes so many calculations.’ Makri screws up her face. ‘He’s invented this new sort of mathematics. I’m trying to master it but it’s hard to get peace to study.’

  I’m sympathetic to a degree, though not actually displeased to learn that Makri isn’t the smartest mathematician in the entire world. Sometimes I worry she might be. ‘Do you need to learn it all? Won’t Arichdamis do his own calculations?’

  ‘I’m meant to check everything for errors. I’m second back-up as well.’

  ‘Second back-up?’

  ‘Arichdamis recruited a sorcerer from Samsarina, Lezunda Blue Glow. He’s meant to take over if anything happens to him. I’m next in line.’

  ‘Then lets hope Lisutaris is protecting them both with her finest spells.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  I’m about to tell Makri that if I have to run into a trench in hostile territory protected only by her mathematics, I don’t give myself much chance of coming out of it alive, but I bite my tongue. I don’t seem to get as much pleasure out of insulting her intellectual aspirations as I used to. I don’t know why. ‘You’ll be fine,’ I say instead. ‘And Arichdamis is tough for an elderly mathematician. I’m sure he’ll see us through. Is his plan any good?’

  Makri screws up her face. ‘I think so. We can’t just lay a big sorcerous protection field right over the trench because it won’t be strong enough, not at the front line where it actually touches the city walls. All the Orcish sorcerers will be trying to destroy it. Arichdamis says he can calculate a channel to funnel in concentrated sorcerous protection, even though the trench is zigzagging so he has to send the sorcery round corners. If his figures are right, it should work.’

  ‘What if they’re wrong?’

  ‘Everyone in the trench will be killed. Torn to shreds, probably. I don’t think they’re planning to tell the diggers that.’

  ‘Probably best not to.’

  We walk to wards Lisutaris’s command tent. ‘We wouldn’t have imagined this happening the first time you appeared in the Avenging Axe,’ I say.

  ‘I was only looking for a safe place to stay for a few nights before finding somewhere better. I never saw myself as a tavern wench.’

  ‘Now here we are, practically leading the armies. Although I’m not surprised I’ve ended up in an important position. I’m one of the few decent men left in the west.’

  ‘Arichdamis still shudders at the damage you did to his cellars.’

  ‘That was really more Baron Girimos than me. His appetite was insatiable. I wasn’t the only one who annoyed Arichdamis. I remember a particular look of disgust on his face when you vomited over his couch.’

  Makri looks guilty. ‘He was disturbed about that but it’s all right now since I blamed it on you. I told him you led me astray.’

  ‘Did he believe that?’

  ‘Very readily,’ says Makri. ‘Lisutaris backed me up with tales of your past deprivations.’

  ‘I’m sure she exaggerated.’

  ‘There was really no need.’

  The delay caused by my conversation with Makri means I’ve missed the opportunity to talk to Lisutaris. Senior officers are already gathering outside her tent, waiting to consult her. Bishop-General Ritari and General Hemistos walk past me with barely an acknowledgement. To their surprise and mine, they’re halted by Lisutaris who appears at the entrance, spots me, and waves me through. ‘Captain Thraxas. Urgent matters of security. Inside immediately.’

  General Hemistos and Bishop-General Ritari find themselves hanging round the entrance while I saunter past, pleased to have the public reminded that Captain Thraxas is not a man to be ignored. Makri follows me. Inside, Lisutaris is fumbling around with her purse.

  ‘You’re probably wondering what security matter calls for this, eh… important meeting.’

  ‘It’s an excuse to keep Ritari and Hemistos out of your tent because you’re desperate for thazis.’

  ‘Very astute, Thraxas.’ Lisutaris drags a small bag of thazis from her purse, separates a few strands and rolls them into a stick with one hand in a movement so quick it’s hard to follow. She snaps her fingers, lighting it by sorcery, and then inhales deeply.

  ‘I couldn’t get a moment’s peace during the advance,’ she tells us, exhaling smoke. ‘Damned Elvish messengers every few minutes, and if it wasn’t them it was Admiral Arith with some urgent naval news. I simply could not face the Bishop-General without some support.’

  Finishing her thazis stick, the sorcer
ess immediately rolls another. I notice some alarm on Makri’s face. Lisutaris’s thazis intake was meant to be diminishing. On this display, it might not be.

  ‘Maybe you should just tell the Bishop-General you’re in charge and you’re going to smoke thazis whether he likes it or not.’

  ‘He’d spread it around that I’m dependent on it. It wouldn’t look good. You know what puritans these Niojans are. Not that Samsarinans are any better when it comes to thazis. Damn them all.’

  Lisutaris rolls and lights another stick. I’ve no objection to acting as a distraction to enable our War Leader to soak up her favourite drug, but I did come here on business. ‘There are some things you should know, concerning my investigation.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ replies the sorceress. ‘I told you to make it go away and not bother me.’

  ‘Circumstances make that difficult.’

  ‘Then change the circumstances.’ Lisutaris finishes her third stick of thazis. The air is thick with the pungent smell. She mutters a word and the aroma disappears. She’s got all aspects of her habit well covered. ‘Now, I have to talk to Hemistos and Ritari, so if you’ll excuse me–’

  I’m not prepared to be brushed off so easily. ‘Afraid not, Commander. There are some things you have to hear whether you like it or not.’

  Our War Leader glares at me. ‘Whatever it is I don’t have time.’

  ‘Baron Vosanos suspects that Makri killed Major Magranos. Magranos was the Baron’s chief steward so he’s unlikely to let it drop. He’s been talking about it in public so the rumour’s probably spreading through Samsarinan ranks. General Hemistos will hear it soon enough.’

  Lisutaris shakes her head in annoyance. ‘This is exactly the sort of thing you’re meant to deal with. I’m sure Makri didn’t kill this Magranos. And even if she did–’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘–I don’t want to know about it. I can’t be distracted with petty matters like this. Deal with it. Make it disappear.’

  I don’t like it that Lisutaris disregards my problems so easily. I don’t like that she doesn’t care about the murder either. I’ve always had this odd fixation that murders shouldn’t go unpunished. ‘I’ll do my best. But that’s not your only problem. It’s not your worst problem either. Your worst problem is Major Stranachus.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘A Niojan intelligence officer. Rather a clever man. He suspects there was something untoward in the death of Legate Apiroi.’

  For the first time, I have Lisutaris’s full attention. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He suspects he wasn’t killed in battle.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ scoffs Lisutaris. ‘There was a battle. He was killed. What is there to be suspicious about?’

  ‘A small mark on Apiroi’s back which suggested he might have been killed by a poisoned dart rather than an enemy blade. I saw it. Whether anyone else did, I don’t know. The body’s gone now but there might be another witness for all I know.’

  ‘You’re not making much sense here, Captain Thraxas.’ Our Commander’s voice has gone cold.

  ‘I’m making good sense. I’ve suspected all along that Legate Apiroi was murdered and the battle provided a convenient excuse for getting rid of him. I remember he was blackmailing you at the time.’

  ‘Are you inferring I was behind it?’

  ‘It’s a natural inference. You were in an awkward position.’

  Lisutaris draws herself up to her full height so she can look down at me. ‘Captain Thraxas, it’s fortunate we share a certain amount of history. Otherwise you’d be liable to find yourself on a permanent visit to the stockade for gross insubordination.’

  ‘Legate Apiroi was King Lamachus’s personal representative.’

  ‘He was an annoying troublemaker with a dangerous amount of ambition.’

  ‘If the Niojans find out you sent Hanama to kill him then we’re in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘Fortunately, I didn’t do that. So there will be no trouble.’

  I look our Commander in the eye. ‘Major Stranachus has been talking to the Niojan sorcerers. It’s likely he’s asking them if they can look back in time to see the murder. That wouldn’t be easy, with the moons being in such bad alignment, but you never know, a specialist might be able to do it. They could get lucky and find a good, clear picture of the whole chain of events. It’s happened before.’

  Lisutaris regards me calmly for a moment, then turns to Makri. ‘Ensign Makri, ask my aide-de-camp to come in.’

  Makri disappears outside for a few seconds, returning with Julius, the young Turanian captain who acts as our War Leader’s assistant.

  ‘Captain Julius. Issue this order immediately. ‘To all sorcerers currently with the army, in all regiments. The use of sorcery for all non war-related purposes is henceforth prohibited. As our full power is necessary for maintaining protection and defeating the enemy, no other spells - historical, oracular, messaging, or otherwise - may be used without the express permission of Commander Lisutaris, War Leader. This order will remain in place until further notice.’

  One of Captain Julius’ skills is his ability to rapidly take dictation. He finishes copying down the order almost as soon as Lisutaris stops speaking. ‘I’ll have this distributed immediately, Commander.’ He salutes smartly and hurries from the tent.

  ‘You’re forbidding sorcery?’

  ‘For all non war-related matters, yes. The guild will obey me, and I’ll be notified of any breeches of my command.’

  ‘Won’t people be suspicious?’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ says Lisutaris. ‘It’s common for sorcerers to preserve their power till it’s required in wartime. Not that there’s anything to be suspicious about anyway. And now, Captain Thraxas, I really must confer with my senior officers. Please ensure all these problems are dealt with in a manner which causes me no further distraction.’

  With that, Lisutaris shows me the exit. I trudge back towards my wagon. The sky is grey. It’s warm and muggy. I feel like a beer. Close to the wagon Droo appears, greeting me cheerfully. Her dull green tunic, spotless and new when she embarked with the Elvish fleet, is now creased and worn, fraying at the edges. Along with the other Elves she’s come through a sea voyage, a battle and a long march. They’re starting to look as tattered as the rest of the army.

  ‘Someone’s waiting for you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Sreepa. Or something like that.’

  ‘Sareepa?’ I make a rapid about-turn. ‘Time for me to patrol.’

  ‘Thraxas, you dog! Stop right there!’

  I turn around reluctantly. There stands Sareepa Lightning Strikes the Mountain, powerful sorcerer, once again not looking that pleased to see me. ‘If you try sneaking off I’ll drag you back here with a spell.’

  ‘Really? I happen to be wearing a fine spell protection charm.’

  ‘I happen to be the head of the Matteshan Sorcerers Guild and I’ll wager my power against any charm cheap enough for you to own.’

  There appears to be no way of avoiding Sareepa. ‘Bring help,’ I mutter to Droo, then trudge the final distance to the wagon. Sareepa is standing with her arms folded. She’s a strong looking woman, broad shouldered, as tall as me, and her rainbow cloak has the functional appearance of a sorcerer who doesn’t waste time on fripperies.

  ‘Sareepa! You’re looking well.’

  She scowls at me. ‘Don’t try and compliment me, you dog.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘Is that any way to talk to an old companion? How old were we when we met? I must have been nineteen, you can’t have been much more than sixteen.’

  ‘And you were a treacherous piece of work even then.’ She glowers at me. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘What do you have to say for yourself about almost killing me at the Sorcerers Assemblage?’

  ‘I don’t remember that happening…’

  ‘I ended up in an alc
oholic stupor after you tricked me into drinking half a bottle of over-strength klee laced with dwa! I damned near died. I would have if the medical sorcerers in Turai hadn’t got to me in time. Fortunately they weren’t as useless as everyone else in your city.’

  ‘Well, really Sareepa. There was a lot of drinking going on at the Sorcerers Assemblage. If you overindulged, I don’t see how it can be blamed on me. I was simply there to extend hospitality.’

  Sareepa bridles. ‘You were there to cheat by every means possible so that Lisutaris was elected head of the guild. Which in my case meant rendering me so intoxicated I allowed my delegation to vote for her.’

  I spread my arms wide. ‘I wouldn’t say cheat was the appropriate word. I admit I tried to use what little influence I could muster, but not in an unfair way.’

  Sareepa abruptly laughs. I remain on guard, unable to tell if her mood has brightened or if she’s just preparing for another assault. Sorcerers can be erratic and hard to read.

  ‘You, Makri, that woman Tilupasis - you flooded the assemblage with so much gold, alcohol, dwa, thazis and whores I’m surprised you didn’t kill us all.’

  ‘And look how well it turned out! Lisutaris is a fine head of the guild. She’s a great War Leader. It’s lucky for us she was elected.’

  Sensing a slight softening of relations, I usher Sareepa towards one of the small wooden chairs beside the wagon, then grope around under the wheels.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ demands Sareepa.

  I pull out two bottles of beer.

  ‘You have to hide your beer? Why?’

  ‘There’s a shortage. And other reasons I won’t go into.’ I hand one bottle to Sareepa and sit down beside her.

  ‘How do you know I’m drinking again?’ she asks.

  ‘Because I knew you when you were sixteen. Honestly, I did you a favour at the assemblage. You’d fallen under the influence of that idiotic sorcerer from Nioj, Almalas. He was such a puritan. All these Niojans are. Don’t drink, don’t smoke thazis, don’t do anything that might make life tolerable. It was an act of friendship releasing you from his clutches.’