by Martin Scott
One of the dragons swipes the shield with its mighty tail and the blow sends me crashing back to the ground. ‘You can’t be doing it right!’ yells Makri. She grabs the slate and stretches her arm up defiantly. ‘No dragon can get the better of me!’
Another might swipe from a dragon’s tail bends the sorcerous shield till it’s only a few feet from the ground. Makri collapses in a heap.
‘Very impressive, Makri. Good technique.’ I take hold of the slate and desperately try to rise, though there’s now very little room in which to do so. The sorcerous shield is giving way under the assault, forced down almost to ground level. Any second now it’s going to shatter, letting the dragons through. Suddenly I feel the slate grow hot in my fingers, new power surging through it. Still lying on my back, I hold it in the air. Immediately the shield begins to rise. Moments later I feel a surge of sorcery streaking past as spells are fired into the shielding, sending it back to a safe height. The dragons spin away, defeated and frustrated. I lie on my back, arm still in the air, sore, battered, and almost unable to move. When I manage to turn my head, Sareepa, Coranius and Lisutaris are walking towards us. None of them seem flustered.
‘What’s been going on here?’ demands Lisutaris. ‘Why is Makri lying on the ground?’ Lisutaris actually bends down and helps Makri to her feet. ‘Ensign Makri, are you injured?’
‘No, Commander,’ says Makri, in a tone that suggests she doesn’t want too much credit for her bravery. I struggle to my feet. No one helps me.
‘Captain Thraxas!’ says Lisutaris, sternly. ‘Did you recruit Makri for the dragon shield? That will never do. Don’t you realise how important she is to the war effort?’
I’m bridling with indignation. ‘Important to the war effort? Do you realise I’ve been–’
Lisutaris isn’t listening. She’s too busy checking Makri’s vital signs for any sign of damage. ‘Doesn’t seem to be concussed…no apparent injury. Makri, I appreciate your courageous actions, but we can’t risk you in situations like this. Your mathematics are far too important. If Captain Thraxas finds himself in difficulties, let him deal with it.’
‘Yes, Commander.’
‘You should rest. Perhaps we should call a herbalist, you’re looking shaken after your ordeal.’
I’ve had enough of this. ‘Ensign Makri will be just fine, particularly as I half-killed myself keeping two dragons off us. I’m off to eat with Gurd and Tanrose. Makri could do with some food inside her scrawny frame. I’ll see she gets there without injuring her delicate features.’
Lisutaris looks at me pointedly. ‘See that you do, Captain Thraxas. Gurd and Tanrose are good citizens. I can trust them to look after Makri properly.’ She puts plenty of emphasis on them. I salute briefly and walk off, reflecting quite bitterly that even if I’m used to it by now, it’s scandalous the way my efforts on behalf of Turai have always been belittled by our leadership.
Makri catches me up. ‘It was difficult holding that slate,’ she admits.
‘I’m glad someone acknowledges it. Did you notice the way Lisutaris didn’t hesitate to criticise me in front of Coranius and Sareepa? The woman is incompetent. She has no idea how to inspire an army.’ We walk the short distance to the space set aside for the assistants to the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment. Tanrose is busy at the campfire as I hoped she would be. We arrive just as Gurd is sitting down to eat.
‘It’s just one thing after another. First a dragon attack, now Thraxas is here. Everyone grab some food while you still have the chance.’
I ignore this, and address Tanrose politely. ‘Tanrose, I’ve been working all day and these dammed army rations aren’t enough to keep a strong man going.’
Tanrose ladles stew into a bowl, puts the bowl on a tray with yams and bread, and passes it over.
‘You’re an angel in human form and a far better woman than Gurd deserves. I’d never have lasted this long without you. First thing we have to do when we take back the city is make sure the kitchen at the Avenging Axe is back in good order.’
‘Tanrose will probably have other things to do,’ says Makri.
‘Like what?’
‘Put her life back together. You can’t expect the entire reconstruction effort to be focused on your stomach.’
‘I don’t see why not. If it wasn’t for me we’d never have got this far. Not that Lisutaris shows any appreciation. I tell you, the way I’ve protected that woman from harm, the city ought to be putting up a statue of me in the palace grounds.’
‘A statue?’ Makri laughs. ‘There wouldn’t be enough marble. Probably have to dig a new quarry.’
‘I deserve it. Free dinners for life too, if they really wanted to show their gratitude.’
‘That would bankrupt the city.’
‘You might get the award for first into Turai,’ says Gurd. ‘We’re going in by tunnel and you’ll be near the front.’ He turns to Tanrose. ‘We’ve been at a few sieges together. First man inside the city usually gets an award. As an incentive, you know. But mainly that happens by climbing siege ladders. Not really Thraxas’s strong point.’
I bridle at this. ‘I’ve climbed plenty of siege ladders in my time.’
Noticing that I’ve nearly emptied my plate, Tanrose leans over and spoons more stew in my direction. ‘Leave Thraxas alone,’ she says, scolding Gurd and Makri. ‘He’s been away from home for too long. No wonder he’s missing his proper meals.’
‘Thank you Tanrose. You’re a beacon of civilisation in the midst of northern barbarians and pointy-eared intruders from the east. Is there any more bread? I’ve had a very hard day.’
Chapter Seventeen
The Samsarinan priest isn’t hard to find. Unlike the Niojans, the Samsarinans didn’t bring too many of them. I’m swiftly directed to a tent set up at the edge of their allotted space, a tent a little larger than those used by the common soldiers though not outrageously so. Pontifex Agrius is a sturdy-looking man with a knife at his belt, which makes me think he’s at least seen some sort of action. I’ve met this sort of priest before, travelling with the army, ready to get their hands dirty. My favourable impression doesn’t last. On learning of the reason for my visit he’s dismissive. ‘You’re here to question me about the Orc woman? I’ve no time for that.’
‘I won’t take long. Just tell me when you saw Makri.’
He answers will ill-grace. ‘I already told Baron Vosanos. I don’t see why I have to repeat it to you. But if I must, then I saw the Orc woman - if she truly counts as a woman, which I doubt - not fifty yards from Major Magranos’s tent. As I explained to the Baron, this was close to the time of Magranos’s death.’
‘How close?’
‘I can’t say, exactly. When I walked back that way, less than an hour later, he’d been killed. I rushed to help but other than praying over his remains, there was nothing I could do.’
There’s nothing particularly convincing about his story. There’s nothing particularly unconvincing either. I’ve been asking people questions for a long time and have a good sense of when they’re telling the truth but it doesn’t work with everyone. Priests can be difficult to read; they’ve often learned how to be persuasive.
‘Do you have any other evidence that Makri was involved? Apart from seeing her near the tent?’
‘None whatsoever. I’m not claiming she was involved. I merely report what I saw.’
Or else he’s reporting what Baron Vosanos wants him to say he saw. It’s still a troubling piece of evidence against Makri. Not enough to condemn her, but it looks bad if she was wandering around at the scene of the crime right before Major Magranos was killed.
‘Why were you there?’
Momentarily, the Pontifex looks vague. ‘I’m not sure what you mean?’
‘It’s a simple enough question. Why were you close to Major Magranos’s tent?’
He gathers his thoughts. ‘Walking. Every evening I stroll around the Samsarinan encampment, thinking of
my sermon for the next day, and ministering to any soldiers who feel the need of spiritual assistance.’
‘You must be a great help to them.’
‘I do my best.’
‘Do you always take the same route? Or did you just happen to walk that way that evening?’
He scowls at me. ‘Are you implying I’m being less than honest?’
‘I might be,’ I say, deciding I’ve been polite enough so far, and wondering what a little hostility might produce. It produces no results. He looks vague again, and stares into the distance.
His is eyes focus on me again. ‘You were saying?’
I learn nothing more from Agrius. He took his normal night-time stroll and happened to see Makri close to Magranos’s tent, close to the time he was murdered. I thank him then depart. He wasn’t the worst priest I’ve ever encountered. There again, he didn’t offer me any refreshment, which is a breach of hospitality. You might expect more from a religious man. Overall, he seemed to find it difficult to concentrate on my questions. I’m not sure why.
I walk back through the Samsarinan encampment. The general atmosphere isn’t bad. Quieter than it was on our long march, but still positive enough. I can see a lot of young soldiers talking good-humouredly to their companions. Apparently everyone still trusts Lisutaris and her plans. There’s no hint of dissent, even in these unnatural circumstances, with a magical shield above us and a sorcerously protected trench zigzagging its way towards our enemy. Lisutaris has brought the army here in good order, protected them well, fed everyone sufficiently, and scored a notable victory over the Orcs. It’s hard for anyone to argue with her abilities as War Leader. I’m almost optimistic till it strikes me that no matter what happens, a lot of these young soldiers will die when we enter the city. If we fail to enter the city, a lot more will die. I must be getting old. I never used to let things like that worry me. I should ask Gurd about it. He used to charge into battle in high spirits, caring for nothing. I wonder how he feels now? He’s older too, with Tanrose to live for.
When I reach my security unit I talk to Rinderan. ‘I’m suspicious about the Samsarinan priest. Disguise yourself and follow him without being observed.’
‘How should I disguise myself?’
‘A kitchen worker. Or porter. Something like that. Use you initiative.’
‘Yes, Captain.’ Rinderan looks doubtful. ‘Won’t I be conspicuous if I’m following him?’
‘The point is not to be. Again, use your initiative. Follow him, don’t get caught, and let me know if he does anything unusual.’
‘Yes Captain.’ Rinderan salutes, still doubtful, but eager enough to carry out his assignment. I’m out of ideas so I do nothing else for the rest of the day. Late in the evening Sareepa arrives, carrying beer, and we retire to the wagon where we spend the night.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m shaken awake. It takes me longer than usual to come to my senses. When I finally manage to open my eyes Makri is kneeling over me.
‘Thraxas,’ she hisses.
‘Have the Orcs attacked?’
‘No–’
‘Then leave me alone.’
I close my eyes. Makri shakes me again. ‘Wake up! It’s important.’
I’m still groggy. ‘What time is it?’
‘Six in the morning.’
‘Go away.’
‘Arichdamis is dead!’
This gets my attention. ‘What? When?’
‘Half an hour ago.’
‘Meet me outside.’
Makri nods, and withdraws. I rise without waking Sareepa, dress quickly, then slip out through the canvas. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘I heard voices so I went outside. Arichdamis was lying on the ground with a sorcerer and a healer trying to help him, but they couldn’t. He was dead. He had a heart attack.’
I’m now fully awake. ‘A heart attack? For real? Or sorcery?’
‘Coranius was there. He thought it was real.’ Makri suddenly looks overwhelmingly sad. She was fond of the elderly mathematician, and she respected him. ‘Coranius sent for Lisutaris,’ she tells me. ‘They’re having a meeting now. But I haven’t told you the worst part.’
‘There’s something worse than Arichdamis dying?’
‘Yes. I was wondering what to do, when Lezunda Blue Glow appeared. I told him Arichdamis was dead and now he’d have to take over the calculations. He went pale. Or I think he did, it was hard to tell in the moonlight. He didn’t look happy anyway. Then he admitted he didn’t understand any of Arichdamis’s mathematics and he’d just been pretending all along. I knew it! Didn’t I tell you was a fraud! Standing there nodding and taking notes while Arichdamis was explaining things. What an imposter!’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I didn’t get the chance to speak. Right after admitting he didn’t understand anything, he got on a horse and rode out of camp.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I am! He’s fled!’
I shake my head. This is a lot to take in. Makri asks if I have any thazis. I hand her my small bag and she takes one of the sticks I’ve rolled, inhaling from it deeply. ‘Will you come with me to talk to Lisutaris?’ she says. ‘I can’t face her on my own.’
‘Why not? What’s wrong?’
‘What’s wrong? We’re digging a trench that depends on Arichdamis’s mathematics for protection. Except Arichdamis is dead and the other person who can do these calculations can’t really do them and he’s run away. That only leaves me.’ Makri looks anguished. ‘And I can’t do them either. How am I going to explain that to Lisutaris?’
Makri’s anguish increases. ‘This is exactly what I feared. The attack plan is going to fail and our army’s going to get slaughtered and everyone will blame me.’
‘Only those who weren’t slaughtered.’
‘Don’t make jokes about it! What am I going to tell Lisutaris?’
‘The truth. As quickly as possible.’
Makri hangs back. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘You’ve no choice. Lisutaris has to know.’
Makri follows me, unwillingly. She turns and looks into the dark void to the west. ‘Could I flee on a horse too? Would that be a bad thing to do?’
‘In the present circumstance, very bad. Let’s go.’
Makri comes to a halt. ‘I can’t do it. Some things are just beyond me. Like talking to that Elf I was involved with. I couldn’t talk to him sensibly. And now it turns out I can’t talk to our War Leader and admit I can’t do the mathematics.’
‘You told me you were getting the hang of it.’
‘I was getting the hang Arichdamis’s first four dimensions. Five and six are still a mystery.’
I take Makri’s hand. ‘Let’s go.’
She looks downwards. ‘Are you holding my hand?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not a schoolgirl. I can walk unaided, you know.’
I let go of Makri’s hand and walk on. She comes to a halt and looks hopeless. ‘I can’t move.’
I take Makri’s hand again and we walk towards the command tent to find Lisutaris. In the early morning light there’s activity around the command centre though not as much as I’d expected. A few messengers can be seen, and some mid-level officers conferring among themselves, but there’s no sign of panic. Arichdamis’s death is a serious blow but no one realises how serious. By now Makri is managing to walk unaided but her place slows as we approach. Coranius the Grinder emerges from the command tent and walks off without acknowledging us.
‘Looks like Lisutaris is on her own. Come on.’
Makri hesitates. ‘Could it wait?’
‘No.’
Makri remains rooted to the spot. I grab her hand again and we advance towards Lisutaris’s command centre. As we pass the guards outside, Lisutaris herself appears in the doorway.
‘Captain Thraxas. Ensign Makri. Are you holding hands?’
‘We need to talk to you urgently, Commander. Or rather Makri does.’ We follow our War Leader back into her tent. It smells of thazis but is in good order.
‘I don’t have much time,’ says Lisutaris. ‘With Arichdamis’s unfortunate death I’ll have to talk to our engineers about rescheduling. Hopefully with Lezunda Blue Glow in attendance it won’t have any major impact.’
‘About that…’ says Makri. She falls silent.
‘Yes?’
Makri screws up her features. ‘Lezunda Blue Glow can’t do the mathematics. He was only pretending he could. He told me that right before fleeing the encampment on horseback.’
Lisutaris is startled by the news. ‘This can’t be true.’
‘It is. The calculations are too complicated. He couldn’t cope.’
Our Commander looks shaken. She takes a thazis stick from inside her robe and lights it by snapping her fingers. ‘Has he really fled?’
‘Yes. And what’s more-‘
Lisutaris holds up her hand. She strides to the entrance and slips through the tent flap where she summons one of her young messengers. I hear her issuing instructions. ‘Lezunda Blue Glow has fled the encampment. Inform Coranius the Grinder. Tell him to take Captain Lanius and four cavalrymen and bring him back immediately.
‘Yes, Commander.’
Lisutaris re-enters the tent. ‘Damn that Lezunda. How dare he pretend to understand sorcerous mathematics? I’ll make him regret it. Well Makri, it’s up to you. I didn’t want to saddle you with such responsibility but from now on we’ll be depending on your skills.’
‘You can’t!’ wails Makri. ‘I don’t understand it either.’
Lisutaris goes rigid. A small trace of sorcerous purple appears in her eyes, not something I’ve seen before unless she’s casting a major spell. ‘What exactly don’t you understand?’