by Martin Scott
I’m dubious. ‘You never mentioned it before.’
‘Well, one doesn’t like to brag,’ says Lisutaris, airily. ‘No need for you to feel any sort of permanent obligation to me for saving your life. But you might remember it next time you go around creating a fuss over what was, when it comes right down to it, no more than a minor incident with a few enhanced thazis sticks. Nothing to get too upset about. Have you brought me a glass of water yet? I do have a terrible thirst.’
Lisutaris sips her water.
‘If you’re feeling better you should get back to your command council.
Our War Leader shrugs. ‘There’s no rush. Either Sareepa and Tirini have come up with a convincing explanation for my absence or they haven’t. Tirini probably has, she’s covered for me before.’ Lisutaris looks at me. ‘I suppose I owe you an apology over Sareepa.’
‘What? Why?’
‘For getting in the way. It was fortunate she found me and brought me here in secret, but it did rather ruin your assignation.’
‘There was no assignation! Sareepa just said she’d bring me some beer and the impressionable female contingent of my security unit got carried away. That’s what happens when you surround a fighting man like myself with a lot of women. I knew it would lead to trouble. No wonder I can’t get anywhere with my investigations when my entire unit spends its time gossiping.’
Lisutaris laughs, rather coldly. ‘From what I hear, the only information you’ve gathered has come from Anumaris doing her job properly.’ Lisutaris looks closely at me. ‘Is that true?’
I hesitate, wondering whether or not to lie. Then I shrug. ‘It’s fairly true. I haven’t made as much progress as I should. I don’t know why. The distractions…the war…I don’t know, something’s wrong.’
‘Whatever’s wrong, fix it. Bishop-General Ritari’s becoming more annoyed all the time. The new Niojan Legate is just as bad. He’s been hinting that we’re not investigating the murders thoroughly enough because Istaros was Niojan. You know how eager they are to take offence.’
‘Talking of Niojan Legates, did you have the last one killed?’
It’s my turn to look Lisutaris in the eye and her turn to shrug. ‘I gave the order. It seemed like the best way to deal with the problem. Can’t say I regret it, he was an almighty nuisance and he was threatening to blackmail me.’
‘He was, but–’
‘So just make sure no one learns of it,’ continues Lisutaris blithely. She yawns. ‘I don’t feel like talking to my officers right now. Is that a blanket over there? Do you have anything for a pillow?’
I hand her the soft bag I was using earlier. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, War Leader and Head of the Sorcerers Guild, takes the pillow and the blanket, stretches out on the bench and goes to sleep. I’ve been sleeping in the wagon myself most nights but I’m now obliged to head outside to my small tent, reflecting on the odd circumstance that this is not the first time I’ve been obliged to give up my bed for Lisutaris. Last winter in Turai she fell victim to the malady while at the Avenging Axe. She spent a week recovering in my bedroom, cared for by sorcerers and healers, while I was banished to a remote part of the tavern. I couldn’t even sleep in my office, it being occupied by a sick Hanama at the time. A sick Sarin the Merciless too. I wonder what became of that notorious criminal? I doubt she died when Turai fell. She’ll have sneaked off somewhere.
I wrap myself up in my army-issue blanket. I’m dissatisfied with the way the evening went, principally because the promised beer didn’t arrive. I’m dissatisfied with Lisutaris’s behaviour too, but if she decides to endanger her position as War Leader by over-indulging in thazis I suppose that’s her affair. Nothing I can do to prevent her. It’s interesting that she came right out and admitted ordering Legate Apiroi’s killing. Was she still feeling the effects of the thazis when she said that? Possibly. Otherwise why tell me? She’d know I’d disapprove. Not that it would worry her, I suppose. If Lisutaris saw getting rid of Legate Apiroi as necessary for the war effort, she wouldn’t care if I approved or not. She’d know I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Our War Leader knows I’m loyal enough to cover up a murder. That doesn’t make me feel great. I drift off to sleep, not satisfied with anything. The sooner we reach the walls of Turai the better. I won’t have to think about investigating any more.
Chapter Twelve
Having fallen asleep early and sober, I waken feeling unusually refreshed. The military camp is starting to come to life. When I emerge from my tent I glance over at the wagon, wondering if Lisutaris is still inside. Should I check on her? I’m undecided when I’m surprised by the appearance of Rinderan, Anumaris and Droo, all in uniform.
‘Captain Thraxas!’ exclaims Anumaris. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be up at this hour.’
It’s a fair point. I don’t dispute it. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Investigating!’ exclaims Droo.
The young Elf is excited, which worries me. ‘Investigating what?’
‘Captain Istaros, and why he went to Elath.’
‘It struck us that it was worth checking,’ explains Anumaris. ‘Captain Istaros was said to have met Major Magranos in Elath while negotiating a land purchase from Baron Vosanos. I wondered if that were true. Istaros was an important man in Nioj, the King’s nephew. Wouldn’t he have been likely to send representatives to make the purchase on his behalf?’
‘Did you learn anything?’
‘Yes!’ says Droo, happily. ‘Anumaris is really good at investigating!’
‘The assistant to the land registrar in Elath is here with the Samsarinan troops,’ continues Anumaris. ‘He was drafted into their army as a supply clerk. We went to talk to him in private.’
‘We bribed him!’ enthuses Droo, who’s pleased to have been involved in anything shady.
Anumaris looks embarrassed.
‘Bribery is fine,’ I assure her.
‘According to the land registrar’s assistant, no transaction was made. He had no record of Istaros buying land from Baron Vosanos.’
‘How reliable is that information?’
Anumaris ponders briefly. ‘Reliable, I think. Elath isn’t a large town. It’s only busy during the tournament. The land registrar does record all transactions. If Istaros had bought land from the Baron, I can’t see any reason it wouldn’t have been recorded.’
‘There are plenty of reasons it might not have been recorded. Tax, inheritance, secret trade deals, business rivalries, jealous family members - rich people move their assets around all the time and try to keep it from the authorities. ‘
Anumaris immediately looks deflated, as do Droo and Rinderan.
‘Nonetheless it’s good information. If it’s true it means the land transaction may only have been an excuse for Captain Istaros to be in Elath. Good work, all of you.’
My unit are cheered. It was good work. It showed more initiative than I’ve managed recently.
‘We should follow this up–’ I begin, but I’m interrupted by the sound of Lisutaris emerging from the wagon behind us. She’s yawning, while simultaneously fastening the top of her shirt and pulling on her cloak. She descends gracefully onto the grass.
‘Morning, Captain Thraxas.’ She smiles. ‘I feel refreshed. Your wagon is more comfortable than I’d have expected. Well, I’d better get back to headquarters. I’d like you to visit me after breakfast. If my officers missed me last night, I might need your talent for lying to cover for me.’
With that, our Commander strolls off. I turn round to find my unit staring at me, wide-eyed. Or rather, Rinderan and Droo are staring at me. Anumaris seems fascinated by her feet.
‘This is a surprise,’ says Droo, the most tactless of Elves. ‘Are you with Lisutaris now? Why did you change you mind? What was wrong with Sareepa?’
‘I did not–’
‘Our Commander is a fine-looking woman,’ says Rinderan. ‘I can understand it.’
‘Won’t Sa
reepa be insulted?’
Rinderan frowns. ‘She might be. Captain Thraxas, is this wise? They’re both very powerful sorcerers. If they get upset, you could be in trouble.’
Droo nods in agreement. ‘Sorcerers can be very temperamental.’
‘It looks like Makri was wrong,’ says Rinderan.
‘Makri? What did Makri say?’ I demand.
Droo grins. ‘She said you’d never go for an intelligent woman like Sareepa. According to Makri you’d be more likely to chase some lusty wench from the theatre.’
‘Lusty wench? She said that?’
‘Yes, those were her words. But then she said that actresses weren’t usually good cooks so they wouldn’t be able to make you enough pies, and that was probably why you’re always single.’
I draw myself up. ‘Enough of this nonsense. There has been no–’
At this moment a deafening racket breaks out as the signal for a dragon attack blares from a dozen trumpets. The whole camp springs into action. There’s a huge commotion as sorcerers sprint to their appointed positions. Anumaris and Rinderan rush off to join them. Less than half a minute after the alarm, the sorcerous shield begins to glow faintly above us, just visible in the light of dawn. I take out my slate, ready once more to participate in the sorcerous relay.
‘Good luck,’ cries Droo, before swiftly rolling under the wagon. Overhead, dragons fly menacingly into view. Last time I was battered half to death. With any luck they’ll kill me this time and I won’t have to listen to Droo and Rinderan speculating about my personal affairs. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of confusion, and a great deal of sorcery unleashed in a short space of time. Five minutes later, or perhaps more - it’s difficult to be exact - I find myself lying on the ground, dazed, and not too sure how I got there. I ache all over. Droo is standing over me, prodding me awake.
‘Captain Thraxas?’
I groan. ‘What happened?’
‘You were supporting the shield really well till you fell over when a big dragon came really close. Some sorcerers chased it off.’
Droo tries, and fails, to help me to my feet. I’m too heavy for her to move and I can’t raise myself. ‘Are you badly hurt?’
‘Just bruised.’
‘You did well again.’ Droo is supportive. I appreciate it. I put a lot of effort into holding up that slate and there was no one else there to see it. Above us, the shield is still in place. The dragons have retreated, once more thwarted by our defensive sorcery. I still can’t get up. I wonder if this hurts our sorcerers as much as it hurts me? Probably not. Lying on the ground, it strikes me that I should be investigating more Niojans. It’s time I talked to Archbishop Gudurius, though I always find the religious fanaticism of Niojans off-putting. Their ordinary citizens can be bad enough. Their bishops are even more intolerable. I dread to think what their archbishops are like. However, Captain Istaros was a member of Ritari’s special defence unit, and he’s dead, and Ritari’s main rival seems to be the Archbishop, so it’s time I talked to him. Maybe I should have a word with Legate Denpir too. According to Hanama, the Legates are strong allies of the church.
I finally haul myself to my feet. ‘Ensign Droo. It’s time to investigate.’ I sit down heavily beside the remains of the fire. ‘Unfortunately I don’t have the strength at the moment. I don’t know how I’m meant to investigate anything when every few minutes I’m expected to hold off the Orcish dragon horde. ‘Do we have any food?’
‘I’ll see what’s left.’
A messenger rushes up. A young Elf, about Droo’s age, with thick blond hair and an eager expression. Why Lisutaris’s messengers are all so eager I don’t know. They seem to enjoy rushing round carrying messages. ‘Captain Thraxas, our commander requires your presence immediately.’
‘I’ve just been struggling with dragons and I haven’t eaten.’
‘She said immediately.’
The Elf bounds off to torment someone else. I shake my head, and wearily haul myself to me feet again. ‘Ensign Droo. I have an important mission for you.’
‘Find some beer before you return?’
‘Yes. Ignore all distractions. Kill anyone who gets in your way.’
I trudge towards our War Leader’s command tent. I’m in a very bad mood. Lisutaris knows I’m participating in the defence against dragon attacks. She should know I’m currently battered, bruised, and hungry. Does she give me a moment to rest? No, she doesn’t. The woman is a tyrant. I enter her command tent. Lisutaris is alone, save for Makri.
‘Captain Thraxas. We need to talk.’
‘Is it about the dragon shield? I’ve done my best but I really think I should be excused. I’m battered and–’
‘You can’t be excused,’ says Lisutaris. ‘We need your help.’
‘But I–’
‘You’re not the only one who’s been battered. There are other non-sorcerers in the relay who’ve suffered worse than you. I don’t hear them complaining.’
‘Probably because you’re not listening. Really, it’s ridiculous to assign me this extra duty. I’m already struggling with the incompetent bunch of misfits who’ve been assigned to my unit.’
Our Commander raises her eyebrows. ‘Incompetent misfits? Rather a harsh judgement. Anumaris Thunderbolt reports you to be an excellent officer.’
‘She does?’ I’m surprised.
Lisutaris fixes her Commander’s gaze on me. ‘Yes. Until I ordered her to stop talking nonsense and tell me the truth. The truth does not reveal you to be an excellent officer, particularly in your treatment of Anumaris. If a young sorcerer is doing her best to obey orders and follow military procedures, I don’t expect you to make her life miserable.’
‘Well if you’re going to bully the young woman into making up stories–’
‘Enough, Captain Thraxas. I’m not an idiot. Your unit is quite satisfactory, particularly Anumaris. For some reason she’s loyal to you. So treat her better, she’s going to be a valuable asset for Turai. And start acting like a proper officer.’
‘Yes, Commander. Was that all?’
‘Far from it. I just received a message from Legate Denpir. He and Bishop-General Ritari are on their way to see me and they’re not happy.’
‘Niojans are never happy.’
‘Now they’re especially unhappy. King Lamachus has been sending them messages, demanding to know what happened to his nephew.’
‘Why is he making such a fuss? King Lamachus isn’t short of nephews. He’s known for his large family.’
Lisutaris glares at me, not amused. ‘Perhaps Istaros was a particular favourite. Now he’s been murdered and the King wants to know why and he’s putting pressure on his officers to find out. They’re putting pressure on me, and isn’t this exactly what I told you I didn’t want to happen? Why haven’t you solved it yet?’
‘I’ve made some progress. My best guess is an internal Niojan power struggle.’
‘Guess? Did you actually solve any crimes in Turai?’
‘Number one chariot at investigating.’
‘So you say. Yet now, on the one occasion I need you to produce results, you’re floundering. Not good enough, Captain. I asked you to make sure this affair didn’t bother me. Now it’s bothering me.’
Captain Julius sticks his head through the tent flap. ‘Bishop-General Ritari and Legate Denpir here to see you, Commander.’
‘Tell them to wait.’
Lisutaris is still glaring at me. ‘Well, Thraxas, you’d better do the one thing you’re good at.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Lying. Tell the General and the Legate something that makes it sound like you’ve been making progress. I don’t care what. Just send them away with the notion that my security unit is actually doing something. I can’t risk Bishop-General Ritari turning against me.’
Our War Leader summons the Niojans into her command tent. Legate Denpir is a smaller man than the last legate, Apiroi, but he doesn�
��t look any friendlier. His sharp eyes dart around the tent as if suspicious of his surroundings and he wears the permanent frown of a Niojan official who doesn’t trust foreigners. Bishop-General Ritari salutes Lisutaris formally. Denpir doesn’t, which is a breech of protocol, though it may be because he’s busy casting a loathing glance at Makri.
‘Commander,’ says the Bishop-General. ‘King Lamachus has been in touch. His highness’s envoy informs us that his majesty is not pleased.’
‘I understand your concerns. We’re doing all we can.’
‘Captain Istaros was highly favoured by the King.’ Legate Denpir has a deep voice, and speaks slowly, as if impressed by his own powers of oration. ‘Last month he was promoted to the King’s Special Advisory Council.’
‘You’ve told me this before, Legate,’ replies Lisutaris. ‘And I’ve assured you we’re doing everything we can to catch the murderer.’
‘We deferred to your wishes that your own security staff investigate this killing. This has produced no results. King Lamachus is not pleased. His advisory council has suggested he may want to rethink his alliance.’
‘No one is rethinking any alliances while we’re almost at the gates of Turai.’
‘King Lamachus does not answer to you.’
‘His army does for as long as I’m War Leader.’
I can see this spiralling out of control. Perhaps Bishop-General Ritari does too, because he interjects in more reasonable tone. ‘Has there been any progress with your investigation?’
‘I believe so.’ Lisutaris gives me a meaningful look. The meaning being that I’d better come up with something good.
‘Well?’ demands Legate Denpir. ‘Have you made progress?’
‘Great progress,’ I reply, with confidence. ‘I’ve a solid idea of what’s been going on. I have more enquiries to make but I should have all the required evidence in a day or two.’
Legate Denpir is unimpressed. ‘Can you tell us why Captain Istaros was murdered?’
‘Not at the moment.’
He snorts in derision. ‘Is that the best you can do?’ He turns back to Lisutaris. ‘I will not tolerate this contemptuous treatment of Nioj. If you continue to treat us unfairly-‘