by Martin Scott
‘Junior Ensign Sendroo, Elvish Reconnaissance Regiment, temporarily seconded to the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment, reporting on my investigations!’
She sits down heavily on a sack of rice. I raise my eyebrows. ‘Did these investigation involve much wine?’
‘No wine at all, Captain Thraxas. The Samsarinans just brought in a new wagon load of beer. I brought you a bottle.’ Droo looks down at her hands. She’s not carrying anything. ‘No, I drank it on the way back.’ Droo slides from the sack to the ground. Her eyes start to glaze over. At this moment, Anumaris Thunderbolt arrives.
‘I’ve been talking to–’ she pauses. ‘What’s wrong with Droo?’
‘She’s been investigating the Samsarinans.’
Droo rolls over on the ground and closes her eyes.
‘Did she learn anything?’
‘They have a new delivery of beer.’
‘This is not satisfactory.’ Anumaris looks at me as if it’s my fault.
‘She’ll sleep it off, Anumaris.’
‘It’s a breach of discipline!’
‘We don’t know that. She might have been obliged to drink heavily while gathering information. It’s often happened to me in the past.’
Anumaris is probably on the verge of pointing out that I set a bad example. To prevent this I ask her if she’d learned anything useful while out investigating.
‘Not much,’ she admits. ‘I talked to several Niojan sorcerers. Major Stranachus had asked them about the possibility of investigating Legate Apiroi’s death but an order arrived from Lisutaris forbidding all non-war related uses of sorcery, so that put an end to that.’
‘Were they suspicious?’
‘No. It’s not an unusual order in wartime. It makes sense to conserve power. Is that really why Lisutaris issued the order?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Do you think she’s covering up her involvement?’
‘Maybe.’ Droo rolls over, settling her head comfortably on the sack of rice. Anumaris gives her another disapproving look. ‘Here’s Rinderan,’ she says. ‘Perhaps he’s learned something.’
I sent Rinderan to talk to the Niojan soldiers, hoping he might learn something from those we weren’t given access to earlier. Now that Bishop-General Ritari’s expressed concern over the affair, it might have opened some doors. Rinderan steps nimbly over Droo’s slumbering frame. He’s young, still in good condition. The sorcerers of the Southern Hills are not as degenerate as our Turanians. ‘I heard some interesting rumours from a sorcerer I knew back in the Southern Hills. She’s been working with the Niojan Sorcerers Guild.’
‘Why?’
‘Queen Direeva likes her sorcerers to maintain good relations with other guilds, even the Niojans. According to my contact, the Bishop-General’s been in dispute with the Niojan church. They’ve never got on, but recently it’s been worse. She even thought that was why Ritari had recruited his special defence unit.’
‘To protect him from the Niojan church?’
‘So she said.’
‘Could this have anything to do with Captain Istaros’s death?’
‘I couldn’t find out anything more specific.’
‘I thought it was the sorcerers that the Niojan church doesn’t like,’ says Anumaris. ‘Don’t they get on with the army either?’
‘Who knows? The church in Nioj is so fanatical they probably hate everyone. If Captain Istaros was part of a unit whose task was to protect the Bishop-General from the Niojan church, and now he’s dead, it might be connected. I wonder who can tell me anything about Niojan politics?’
Chapter Eight
Visiting Hanama in camp is not as unsettling as visiting her in the Assassins Guild headquarters in Turai but it’s not something I relish. She might be wearing a uniform and a captain’s insignia but she’s still cold as an Orc’s heart. I can’t detect any signs of warmth or camaraderie between her and her intelligence unit. I doubt they sit around their fire at night drinking beer and swapping stories. Lisutaris thinks they’re efficient: I have my doubts.
I’m expecting Hanama to be obstructive so I get to the point as swiftly and clearly as I can. ‘Captain Hanama. I’m hoping you can tell me something about Niojan society.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Who has influence with the King?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
I glare at her. ‘Vital military work, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped being obstructive.’
Hanama regards me quite blankly. She doesn’t have the most expressive face. It’s never easy to tell what she’s thinking.
‘There are several strong factions in Nioj. The Legates lead the political class. They have allies at court among the aristocracy, and the support of landowners. They’re closely allied to the Church. The Church has more power and wealth in Nioj than they do in other countries. So I’d say Legate Denpir and Archbishop Gudurius are the most powerful individuals, after the King. They consult with each other every day.’
‘Archbishop Gudurius is here?’
‘He joined the Niojan contingent last week.’
‘Who are their rivals?’
‘The army is the next most powerful force.’
‘Is Bishop-General Ritari their most important figure?’
‘Yes. He’s unofficial leader of the army faction. That’s a strong position, but he doesn’t have as much influence at King Lamachus’s court as the Legates and the church.’
‘Any other factions?’
Hanama looks thoughtful. ‘There’s the Niojan Sorcerers Guild. They’re rivals of the Church. More than rivals perhaps, because the Church disapproves of them. However they’re too important to the country to be got rid of. They have allies at court. Particularly Duchess Arbella. She owns a huge amount of land. She’s probably the most influential woman in Nioj. The church doesn’t like her either. She’s a firm ally of the sorcerers. They’re closer to General Ritari and the army than they are to the Legates or the Church.’
As I’m absorbing Hanama’s information, several of her intelligence agents hover in the background, trying to look busy while listening in on our conversation.
‘Thank you, Captain Hanama.’ It takes an effort for me to say it.
‘Presumably you think this may have some bearing on the death of Captain Istaros?’
‘It might. There’s no obvious criminal motive. I’m wondering if it might be part of some internal power struggle.’
‘That would be unusual for Nioj.’
‘Why? Wherever there’s a King, there’s a court full of jealous people, all trying to advance themselves.’
‘True. However King Lamachus is known to be extremely strict about that sort of thing. Ever since rivalries got out of hand during his father’s reign, vying for power in Lamachus’s court is expressly forbidden. Anyone guilty of using underhand means to gain influence is liable to find himself exiled, or executed.’
‘Interesting. Wouldn’t stop it going on, I imagine.’
‘Perhaps not,’ agrees Hanama. ‘If I learn anything useful, I’ll let you know. Our Commander can’t be distracted at this moment.’
I depart, heading for the Niojan encampment. I’m gathering momentum as I reach the their lines. If anyone tries getting in my way I’m going to mow them down. I’ve got a lot of weight and our War Leader on my side and I owe the Niojans a thing or two. At the perimeter of their encampment are two troopers and a sergeant. I march up to the sergeant. ‘Captain Thraxas, head of our Commander’s personal security unit. I’m here to investigate the death of Captain Istaros, and don’t give me any of your Niojan runaround. I’ve had enough of you obstructive tactics. If you don’t-‘
The Niojan Sergeant salutes smartly. ‘Bishop-General Ritari has been expecting you, Captain Thraxas.’
‘He has?’ I stand there foolishly for a moment. ‘Are you sure?’
‘He sent instructions to escort you to his t
ent the moment you arrived.’
‘How did? Never mind. Take me there.’
Deflated by the Niojan’s unexpected co-operation, I follow along as the sergeant leads me past the rows of small soldiers’ tents towards the larger tents in the centre that house the senior officers. One is much larger than any other, tall, square and black, with a Niojan flag fluttering above it. The command centre of Bishop-General Ritari. I take a swift mental inventory, checking to see if I’ve actually insulted the Bishop-General in the past. Not that I can remember. A few comments perhaps, but nothing too outrageous. As for his feelings towards me, he did privately ask Lisutaris if I was competent, but I suppose that’s not too antagonistic. Lisutaris regards him as not overly hostile to Turai so it’s probably worth being polite to him, at least at first.
The Bishop-General is a man of medium build but wiry, with the look of an experienced soldier. He has scarring on his jaw, battle scars, most likely. He’s clean-shaven and cropped-haired, like all Niojan officers. His black uniform is neater than might be expected given the action we’ve seen. His tent is tidier than our War Leader’s. I find the neatness mildly irritating though that might just be because I’m looking for reasons not to like him. His greeting is not too unfriendly by Niojan standards. ‘Captain Thraxas. I’ve been expecting you. These deaths need investigating.’
‘Your officers haven’t been that co-operative so far.’
‘No military force is keen to have outsiders examining their affairs. I had hoped the death of Captain Istaros might be solved quickly by questioning my own officers. Unfortunately that hasn’t happened. Therefore I welcome your investigation. I said as much to our War Leader only yesterday.’
Yesterday he was telling our War Leader I was an idiot. I let it pass. ‘When you questioned your officers about Captain Istaros did you come up with anything?’
The Bishop-General shakes his head. ‘Nothing that pointed towards any reason for murder. The Captain had no known enemies. I’m inclined to believe the attack came not from a Niojan, but an intruder.’
‘That’s possible. There was someone else in your encampment. Major Magranos, a Samsarinan. Unfortunately he’s also dead.’
‘Could he have killed Captain Istaros?’
‘And then conveniently been killed right afterwards? It’s unlikely. I’m wondering why none of your guards reported seeing Major Magranos entering your encampment.’
‘Most of our security is targeted towards the outside perimeter. Keeping watch for the Orcs. Inside, with so many armies together, things are less disciplined, unfortunately perhaps.’
‘Can you tell me anything about Major Magranos?’
‘No. I was hoping you’d be able to enlighten me. Apart from learning he was involved in the purchase of land by Istaros in Samsarina, I know nothing about him. Do you?’
‘I haven’t learned anything significant,’ I admit. ‘The land deal seemed legitimate. Istaros wanted to build a house in Elath. He was the King’s nephew, and a lot of important people own houses there because of the sword-fighting tournament.’
‘The sword-fighting tournament.’ A scowl passes over the Bishop-General’s face. ‘They tell me the Orcish woman won.’
‘She did.’
‘I find that difficult to believe. Though I understand there was outside interference.’
‘You could say that. A dragon got in the way. But she’d have won it anyway.’
The Bishop-General doesn’t look convinced. He lets it pass.
‘Captain Thraxas, you seem to be searching for some motive for these killings. Is it not possible they were simply criminal acts? Robberies?’
‘It’s possible, though it doesn’t seem likely. Murder and robbery aren’t unknown among troops but rarely towards the climax of a campaign. We’re almost at the walls of Turai. I just don’t see any of your Niojan soldiers breaking discipline to do something like that.’
Ritari agrees with me. ‘Even so, there are plenty of fellow travellers. Chefs, wagon drivers, metal-smiths, all sorts. No discipline among them.’
The Bishop-General is keen to push the idea that whoever murdered Captain Istaros, it wasn’t a Niojan. I change tack. ‘I understand there are several factions in Nioj, all competing for influence with the King. The legates, the church, the army and the sorcerers. With you being the head of one of those factions. Might the King’s nephew have become caught up in some sort of power struggle?’
Ritari’s tone hardens. He’s not so friendly now. ‘There are no factions in Nioj. Our society is united behind the King.’
‘That’s not the way I hear it.’
‘You’re on the wrong track. I don’t know who’s been telling you these things about Nioj, but really, there are no serious rivalries.’ Ritari has already regained his polite demeanour. It’s making me suspicious. No senior Niojan has ever made an effort to be polite to me before.
‘I’ll carry on investigating, Bishop-General. It will help if your Niojan troops are more co-operative.’
‘They will be. I’ve given orders.’
I’m thoughtful as I leave the command tent. I haven’t really learned anything but it was interesting the way the Bishop-General decided to be co-operative. Back at the wagon, Droo, Anumaris and Rinderan are waiting. ‘Interesting news,’ I tell them.
‘What happened?’
‘The Bishop-General was unusually polite and co-operative. Clearly he’s up to something. Droo, find me a bottle of beer then everyone leave me alone while I think about things.’
Droo produces a bottle of beer apparently from nowhere. She stole it in readiness for me. She’s an excellent soldier in every way. Unfortunately, as I’m clambering into the wagon, Major Stranachus arrives. I glare at the Niojan agent, at this moment about as welcome as an Orc at an Elvish wedding. ‘Major Stranachus. I’d offer you beer but I need it all for myself.’
‘I don’t drink on duty,’ says the Major, pleasantly. He’s carrying a canvas bag, a military item with Niojan insignia. He reaches inside and pulls out a chainmail shirt. I recognise the shirt but don’t let it show.
‘I thought you might find this interesting. It belonged to Legate Apiroi. Part of his belongings we’ll be sending back to his family after our investigation is finished.’
‘Investigation?’
The major turns the mail shirt over. There’s a sort of seam running down the back, made of links larger than the rest, the place where the shirt is joined together during the manufacturing process. He points to one of the links.
‘You see this scratch?
I don’t like the way this is going. ‘What scratch?’
The major indicates a tiny mark on the edge of the metal link. ‘Here.’
‘What about it?’
‘Could be a mark made by something passing through. A dart, for instance. Poisoned, perhaps.’
‘A dart?’ I scoff at the notion. ‘No one could throw a dart through that tiny space.’
‘An assassin might,’ says the major. He looks at me. I look back at him. ‘Have you come across any assassins in the army?’
‘None that I know of,’ I lie. ‘No reason for any of them to be here.’
‘You wouldn’t have thought so.’
The Niojan still sounds affable. He’s not fooling me with that any more. ‘I doubt anyone threw a dart through Legate Apiroi’s chainmail.’
The major looks down at the mail shirt. ‘I’m sure you’ve come across highly accomplished assassins in your line of work. Turai has a large Assassins Guild. I was planning to ask our Niojan sorcerers to look back in time and see if they could cast any light on the murder. Unfortunately our War Leader has banned all uses of sorcery except for war purposes.’
‘The Sorcerers Regiment needs to concentrate its power on the war effort. Can’t be using sorcery for lighting camp fires.’
‘Or solving inconvenient murders.’
I’m sick of Major Stranachus and want him
to go away. He shows no signs of leaving. Maybe being rude would help. ‘Did you just come here to waste my time with insinuations?’
‘Just pointing out a few inconsistencies. You must admit, Legate Apiroi’s death was suspicious.’
‘Only to you.’
‘I hear Lisutaris’s bodyguard, Ensign Makri, is a suspect in Major Magranos’ murder.’
‘Idle gossip. The Samsarinan Baron Vosanos never liked her.’
‘That doesn’t seem enough reason to accuse her of murder.’
‘What’s it to you?’ I say. ‘Are you investigating that as well? Shouldn’t you be concentrating on the King’s dead nephew?’
‘The murder of the Samsarinan major might be linked to that. Hard to tell what’s linked. Anything might be.’ He gazes at the mail shirt. ‘Captain Istaros and Major Magranos did encounter some unpleasantness in Elath.’
‘What happened?’
‘Some sort of altercation. I don’t know the details. I only heard about it because Captain Istaros arrived back from Elath earlier than expected. I was wondering if you might know more.’
‘Why would I?’
‘You were in Elath at the same time. You, your Orcish friend, Lisutaris and various other Turanians. It wouldn’t be that surprising if some of them got into a fight with visiting Niojans.’
I don’t deny it. There’s no point pretending Turanians abroad are renowned for their good behaviour. ‘No, it wouldn’t be that surprising. However, I never heard anything about it.’
I sip from my bottle of beer. It’s Simnian; not that good. They’ve never been great brewers. Major Stranachus takes another look at the chainmail he’s holding, pointedly staring at the tiny scratch on the back.
‘Is it true that Captain Hanama is a member of the Turanian Assassins Guild?’