by Martin Scott
Sareepa opens the bottle and drinks. ‘I know. I’m embarrassed thinking about it. I don’t know what got into me. That doesn’t excuse you almost killing me.’ Sareepa brushes a strand of hair away from her face. Most of the female sorcerers tie their long hair back neatly while on military duty, but Sareepa lets hers spill over her shoulders. Perhaps it’s a sign of her status as Head of the Matteshan Sorcerers Guild. Lisutaris likewise maintains her normal coiffure. According to Makri, our War Leader spends a few minutes every day alone with her friend Tirini to attend to hair and make-up, neither of which they’re prepared to ignore entirely, despite the war.
As Sareepa’s mood starts to thaw, I remember why I used to like her. She was a wild youth. We did a lot of drinking together. That didn’t prevent her from making progress with her sorcery. She went on to be powerful while I failed hopelessly as an apprentice.
‘Where has our War Leader assigned you?’ I ask.
‘The trench. Seems like a strange plan to me, digging our way in, but I’m not going to argue about it. I’m part of the team sending out the protective sorcery while they dig. Lisutaris has me, Coranius, Tirini, a few others, all assigned to protecting the trench as it goes towards the walls.’
‘That’s a lot of sorcerous power.’
‘I hope it’s worth it. Apparently our magic has to be directed by some mathematical system no one knows anything about.’ Sareepa frowns. ‘Seems risky to me, it could blow up in our faces. Any more beer?’
‘I’ll check.’
‘You’ll check? You don’t know? What’s the matter with you?’
‘One, there’s a general beer shortage. Two, Anumaris Thunderbolt. She’s fanatically anti-beer, encouraged by Lisutaris. Food rationing and no beer. I’m fading away to a shadow.’ This is an exaggeration, but I have lost some weight. The escape from Turai, the long march back, the lack of a regular supply of beer and the wartime scarcity of Tanrose’s pies has all had a detrimental effect. ‘My clothes are hanging off me.’
Sareepa laughs. ‘You’re slightly smaller than I remember. I wouldn’t say you were fading away.’
A swift examination of Droo’s tent reveals no beer but I do find two bottles of Elvish wine tucked away. I spend the next hour drinking these with Sareepa, reminiscing about our younger days and discussing our prospects in the war. It vaguely occurs to me that I should be investigating something but I can’t raise any enthusiasm. When we’ve finished our wine, Sareepa rises to her feet. ‘Time for me to go. I have to take lessons, if you can believe it. New techniques for sending sorcery through artificial dimensions as calculated by Arichdamis. It’s all starting to sound worse, the more I think about it.’
Sareepa departs unwillingly to her lessons. Having spent a pleasant afternoon drinking, idling, and gossiping, I can think of no better plan than a prolonged nap before dinner. I head for the wagon to lie down. Before I reach it Makri arrives. She’s carrying a sheaf of papers and looking unhappy. ‘Droo said you were about to be murdered by Sareepa.’
‘You took your time coming to rescue me.’
Makri shrugs. ‘I figured you’d be all right. You usually manage to talk your way out of things.’
‘I could have been in serious–’
‘But enough of your problems,’ says Makri. ‘I’ve got real troubles.’ She looks despairingly at the sheaf of papers in her hand. ‘I can’t do these damned calculations.’
‘I’m sure you can.’
‘No, I can’t. It’s too complicated. Arichdamis is now inventing more new fields of mathematics.’ She sighs. ‘I can’t keep up. No one could.’
‘What about that sorcerer that’s helping him? Lezunda Blue Glow?’
‘Apparently he can.’ Makri sounds sour. ‘Another mathematical genius to demonstrate I’m not as smart as I thought I was.’
I attempt to be encouraging. ‘You just need more time. You’ve always been top student, I’m sure you can do it. Have some thazis, it’ll calm you down.’
Makri inhales deeply on the thazis stick. ‘I was top student at Guild College. That’s like junior arithmetic compared to this.’ Makri waves a sheet of unintelligible figures at me. ‘Look at this. To protect the trench as it zigzags, Arichdamis needs to pretend the sorcery goes through extra dimensions. Well not pretend, exactly. They’re sort of there. But they’re sort of not there as well.’
‘Like the magic space?’
‘Something like that. Except you can’t enter them.’
‘But the sorcery is meant to go through them?’
‘Sort of. But not really. It’s imaginary. But necessary for the calculations.’ Makri points to one of the pages in the middle of her bundle. ‘This is the start of the required calculation to send the sorcery into the second new dimension.’
The paper is covered in symbols I don’t recognise. It’s not like any writing I’ve ever seen.
‘And that’s only the start of the second dimension,’ says Makri. ‘Getting through it is worse.’
‘How many of these extra dimension are there?’
‘Three so far. Arichdamis keeps discovering more.’ Makri finishes the thazis stick and starts rolling another. ‘I can’t keep up. I’m meant to be checking the figures but I can’t do it.’
Looking at Makri’s sheets of paper, I can appreciate her problem. ‘Does it matter? If Arichdamis and Lezunda can do it? As long as they get everything right, you won’t be called into action.’
Makri nods, gloomily. ‘I’m hoping that happens. But it’s made me realise how stupid I am. What was I thinking, imagining I could go to the university? Obviously it’s a silly notion. I’ll just have to be a barmaid all my life.’
‘You’re over-reacting. You’ll get the hang of it.’
‘I won’t. I’m too stupid.’
Makri’s self-esteem seems to have taken a severe knock. The revelation that she’s a long way behind Arichdamis and Lezunda Blue Glow in mathematics has damaged her confidence.
‘God help us if anything happens to them,’ she says. ‘Because if Lisutaris asks me to step in then we’ll really be in trouble. We’ll have a trench full of dead engineers, killed by the first Orcish spell that comes our way. Or the first Orcish arrow. Any hostile artefact, really. My hopeless attempts won’t keep anything out. Probably won’t even have to wait for an Orcish attack; the engineers will all be dead from our own sorcery because my useless calculations will make it arrive through the wrong dimension and kill them all. I might wipe out the entire army.’
‘Makri, I think you’re going too far here. I’m sure you’re not going to wipe out the army.’
‘Wait till Lisutaris’s sorcery starts bursting out of another dimension because I didn’t notice it was there. Things are looking bad, Thraxas. I should never have pretended I was any good at mathematics. I should have studied something else at Guild College. The child’s painting class. That’s more my level.’
There was a time when I enjoyed mocking Makri’s academic pretensions. I don’t do that as often these days. She puts in so much effort it doesn’t seem amusing any more. I try to think of something more encouraging to say but such is her depression it’s difficult to know what. We sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking thazis.
‘What did Sareepa want?’ asks Makri, after a while.
‘Just reminiscing about old times. She complimented my figure.’
‘What?’
‘Told me I was in good shape. Not a surprise, I always did think Sareepa had a thing for me.’
‘The Head of the Matteshan Sorcerers Guild has a thing for you?’
‘She wasn’t head of their guild when I met her. Just a young ruffian fond of drink and trouble. Back in those days, I was an expert on both. I expect she’s remembered me fondly for a long time.’
Makri shakes her head, but it does raise a smile, which is some improvement. She departs in a slightly better mood, still clutching her sheaf of papers, resolving to make an another
attempt at understanding Arichdamis’s convoluted calculations. It’s finally time for my long-overdue afternoon sleep. I’ve almost made it into the safety of the wagon when one of Lisutaris’s young messengers arrives at a run. ‘Captain Thraxas. Commander Lisutaris requires your presence immediately.’
There’s no use protesting. I can’t refuse a direct order. Grumbling angrily about the poor state of affairs when a man can’t be left alone for five minutes to rest his eyes, I trudge the short distance back to the command centre.
Chapter Seven
Huddled around the entrance to Lisutaris’s command tent are a group of fifteen people. It’s an unlikely gathering. There’s a young soldier from the Samsarinan cavalry, an Elf from their Reconnaissance Regiment, a woman whom I’ve seen unloading supplies at the Simnian military kitchen, another woman wearing the uniform of the Kamaran medical unit, a Niojan infantryman and various others. Not all of them are military people. Some are dressed in civilian clothes, part of the support staff who follow along behind the army. I’m puzzled as to why they’ve been summoned by Lisutaris. None of them, apart from myself, would seem to be important to the war effort. Close by are two sorcerers, Coranius the Grinder and Tirini Snake Smiter. Coranius looks more hostile than usual. Tirini looks bored, though she is resplendent in a shimmering rainbow cloak, blue high heeled boots and a collection of dragon scale jewellery. Neither acknowledge me. Moments after I arrive, Lisutaris appears. The gathering regards her anxiously, wondering why they’ve been summoned.
Lisutaris wastes no time getting down to business. ‘I’ve called you because each of you has some sorcerous skill and we need to use it.’
The group edges backwards, apprehension on their faces. ‘This must be a mistake, Commander,’ says the Samsarinan cavalryman, quite boldly in the circumstances. ‘I have no sorcerous power.’
‘Yes, you do.’ Lisutaris contradicts him. ‘You attended the Samsarinan college for sorcerers apprentices for eight months when you were nineteen.’
‘I failed every part of the course, Commander.’
‘No matter. You learned the basics and you retain that knowledge.’ Lisutaris turns to the Simnian kitchen worker. ‘Your mother was a sorcerer and taught you several spells while you were a child.’
The kitchen worker goes pale, probably imagining she’s about to be hurled into combat with the Orcish Sorcerers Guild. ‘I’ve never practiced or studied, Commander.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve made enquiries and you possess some power. As do you, Private Yanachus. You were an apprentice for five months before your parents, not approving of sorcery, made you withdraw. All of you have some degree of sorcerous experience, enough to control these.’ Lisutaris nods to her aide Captain Julius. The Captain steps forward, carrying a fancy embroidered bag, and starts handing out small, flat pieces of slate, each about three inches square. I take one and examine it. It’s inscribed in a language I can’t read. There’s a moment’s silence as everyone studies their slates and wonders what they’re for.
Lisutaris draws herself up, looking grand. ‘As we approach Turai, the likelihood of dragon attack increases. So far, my sorcerers have successfully shielded us. As we reach our destination, certain members of the Sorcerers Guild will be required for other duties. To make up for this, you sixteen will assist with maintaining our anti-dragon shield, using the objects you’ve been given. Each slate acts as a sorcerous relay, boosting the shield as required. All you have to do is point them at the sky and let our sorcerers do the rest. Tirini Snake Smiter and Coranius the Grinder will give you further instructions. Are there any questions?’
There are plenty of questions. The terrifying prospect of suddenly finding themselves part of the dragon shield loosens everyone’s tongues. The assembly, previously intimidated in front of our War Leader, now bombard her with anxious queries.
‘Will it be dangerous?’ Will it happen often? What if it doesn’t work?’
‘What if I’m busy doing something else? My Captain won’t like me leaving my unit.’
‘Do we have to do it? I’m scared of dragons!’
Our War Leader holds up her hand. ‘Enough! Yes, you have to do it. Regard it as a privilege. I don’t know how often it will happen. That depends on the Orcs. It will work if you all do it properly. This takes priority over anything else. Your officers will be informed of that. And yes, it may be dangerous. Everything in wartime is dangerous. If we lose we’re all going to die, by dragon or by other means, so make sure you do your best to avoid defeat.’ Lisutaris turns her gaze on the Kamaran nurse. ‘Of course you’re scared of dragons,’ she says, not particularly sympathetically. ‘It would be foolish not to be. If we don’t stop the Orcs now there will be dragons in Kamara soon enough. So make sure you play your part.’
I wouldn’t say this was the most rousing speech I’ve ever heard. The unfortunate souls who’ve been selected don’t look particularly re-assured though they fall silent, resigned to their fate.
‘Tirini and Coranius will instruct you further,’ says Lisutaris briskly. She turns to me. ‘Captain Thraxas, I assume you need no further instruction? You should know how the sorcerous relay works.’
I glance down at the piece of slate. I’m meant to guard the army against dragon attacks by waving it in the air. I can see that ending well. I let out a sigh. ‘I’m aware of how it works, Commander.’
‘Good. Follow me, I have other business with you.’
I trudge after Lisutaris into her command tent, leaving behind a group of fifteen unwilling volunteers receiving instructions from two powerful sorcerers. Tirini still looks bored, though her hair is once again a glorious blonde, which must have done something to improve her mood. Tirini’s skills in the sorcery of hair, clothes and jewellery are unmatched in the west. None of which will help us in the upcoming battle, but it does brighten the place up. The command tent is empty save for Makri who stands easily in the corner, a sword at each hip, watchful as always when she’s on duty. Lisutaris lights a thazis stick. ‘Thraxas, Bishop-General Ritari asked to speak to me in private.’
‘About the war?’
‘No, about you. He wanted to know if you were competent. Or, to be more accurate, if you were as incompetent as he’s been led to believe.’
I let the insult pass. Niojans are always rude.
‘The Bishop-General is anxious for us to make progress in identifying the murderer of Captain Istaros.’
‘My unit is working on it full time. Didn’t you tell me earlier not to bother you with any of this?’
‘That was before the Bishop-General started harassing me. He’s probably coming under pressure from his new Legate, Denpir. Captain Istaros was the King’s nephew and Legate Denpir is the King’s representative. As commander of the Niojan troops, it might look bad for the Bishop-General if the culprit isn’t found.’
‘Do we care if it looks bad for him?’
‘As Niojans go, Ritari isn’t the worst. He’s not as hostile towards Turai as a lot of Niojans. Not as likely to declare war on us the moment the Orcs have departed. Turai is going to be vulnerable when this is all over, Thraxas. I’d rather Bishop-General Ritari was still in charge of their army when that happens, rather than some fanatic who might encourage their King to attack us while they have the chance.’
‘Is the new Legate a fanatic?’
‘Probably. He’s a close ally of Archbishop Gudurius, head of the Niojan church.’ Lisutaris finishes her thazis stick and lights another. ‘I don’t want Ritari made to look bad in front of their King. So start making some progress. That’s an order.’
I scowl at our Commander. ‘Before or after I wave my slate at the sky while being incinerated by a dragon?’
‘If you wave your slate in unison with everyone else, you won’t be incinerated. The sorcerous relay will work efficiently. As long as you’re not too intoxicated, you’ll be fine. Now kindly depart and solve the murder. Try not to implicate Ritari or any of his clo
se associates.’
‘What if they are implicated?’
‘Find a more suitable candidate. Preferably someone we don’t like.’
‘I would never-‘
‘That will do, Captain Thraxas.’ Lisutaris raises her hand. The tent flap swings open with the casual sort of sorcery she can do without even thinking about it. I depart, deep in thought. If I’m lucky, my unit will have made progress on the case. They’ve proved to be more competent than I expected. That’s good, but it doesn’t make me feel as positive as it might because thinking about my unit, I’m forced to acknowledge something I’d rather not: I don’t entirely trust any of them. Anumaris Thunderbolt is intelligent and perceptive, but she’s quite likely to be more loyal to Lisutaris and the Sorcerers Guild than she would be to me. As for Droo, she’s trustworthy to an extent, though liable to let something slip while intoxicated. And what about the regular reports she’s required to provide to the Elves? I can’t risk any damaging information reaching the Elvish High Command. As for Rinderan, I’ve no reason to doubt him, but I’ve no particular reason to trust him either. The young sorcerer hails from the Southern Hills, a subject of Queen Direeva. What if he’s sending reports of his activities back to her? Even if he’s not, he’s likely to show more loyalty to his guild than me. Lisutaris seems to have filled my security unit with people more loyal to her than me. Smart move on her part, I suppose.
I wonder if I should talk to Bishop-General Ritari. It’s all very well for him to demand we find the culprit but it would be easier if his own Niojan troops were more co-operative. They haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information. My thoughts turn to Makri and Magranos. That’s an unwelcome complication. Major Magranos was killed in close proximity to Captain Istaros, and they were known to each other. The most likely explanation is that their deaths are linked, and nothing to do with Makri’s desire for revenge on Magranos. Somehow I can’t shake the feeling that Makri might be involved. It’s the sort of thing she’d do. She didn’t grow up with any notion of the due process of the law. There’s no evidence against her but I’m worried Baron Vosanos might dig up something. I’ve instructed Droo to hang around the Samsarinans, to see what she can find out. Droo, a young and personable Elf, is welcome in most places. As I near the wagon, she stumbles into sight.