by Martin Scott
After waking with a headache, and visiting the public baths to cleanse myself of the accumulated filth of several days’ activity in hot weather, I go to see Cicerius at the Abode of Justice. He’s already aware of the charge which has been laid against me.
“I don’t sympathise in the slightest,” he says.
“Thanks for your support.”
“You were clearly warned that trouble would arise from your use of the Tribunate powers.”
“But I did it anyway. And now I’m in trouble.”
“You are, though personally I do not believe the charge of throwing away your shield and fleeing the battlefield,” says Cicerius. “I studied your record quite carefully before I first hired you to work for me. As I recall, you were an insubordinate soldier but your valour was never questioned. But I cannot have the charge dropped. The matter must go before a Senate committee, and until then your Tribune’s powers are revoked, as is your investigating licence.”
“Can’t you use your influence? My accuser is Vadinex and he works for Praetor Capatius.”
Cicerius knows Capatius very well. Not only is the Praetor the richest man in the city, he’s a senior member of the Traditionals, Cicerius’s party.
“Last year I got in Capatius’s way and now he’s getting his revenge. Can’t you get him off my back?”
The Deputy Consul is unenthusiastic, though he knows I’m speaking the truth when I claim he owes me a favour.
“Were you with Vadinex at the Battle of Sanasa?”
“We were in the same regiment. I don’t remember ever being close to him on the battlefield. But I was with plenty of other men who are still alive today who’ll testify on my behalf.”
“So you hope, Thraxas. My experience as a lawyer has taught me that men’s memories can be strangely affected by the passage of seventeen years. And they can be affected a good deal more by bribery. A charge of this sort, brought after so many years, will not be easy to defend in court if your opponents have planned it well.”
Cicerius muses for a while.
“I really doubt that Capatius is behind this charge.”
“He has to be. Vadinex is his man.”
“Even so, I doubt it. It is true that you inconvenienced Praetor Capatius last year, but the inconvenience was minor by his standards. A mere blip in his considerable income. I have seen the Praetor many times since then and he has never given me the impression that he holds any strong grudge against you. I am aware that you do not trust him, but I believe him to be far more honest than you give him credit for. Like many rich men, he has suffered at the hands of the Populares, who are always keen to accuse any worthy supporter of the King of corruption. Capatius himself fought bravely in the war, with a cohort he raised and equipped at his own expense. In my experience, it is rare for a man who fought in that campaign to raise a false charge against another who also fought. It would go against his sense of military honour.”
I’m not convinced. Capatius is obscenely wealthy. I can’t believe anyone could get to be so rich and still have a sense of honour.
“You offended many people when you prevented a full investigation of Lisutaris’s actions at the warehouse,” points out the Deputy Consul. “Far more likely that one of them would now wish to see you punished. Rittius, for instance. The head of Palace Security has long disliked you.”
“Yes, it’s possible it’s Rittius. But my instinct tells me that Capatius has put Vadinex up to it. So I appeal to you to make efforts on my behalf. Because as you will understand, Deputy Consul, if I’m dragged before a Senate committee on a charge of cowardice, I’ll be obliged to kill my accuser and flee the city.”
Cicerius looks shocked.
“You will obey the law of Turai,” he informs me sternly.
“Absolutely.”
“While you are here,” says Cicerius, “would you care to tell me the precise nature of the difficulties that Lisutaris finds herself in?”
“No real difficulties, Deputy Consul. A minor matter of a missing diary.”
I intimate that I am unable to say more due to Investigator-client privilege.
“You have no such privileges. Your licence has been suspended.”
“Then I’ve suffered a sudden loss of memory.”
“Yesterday a unicorn wandered through the Senate while I was speaking,” says Cicerius.
“That must have livened things up.”
“My speech did not need to be livened up. It was already quite lively enough. Do you have any idea why these creatures should suddenly be infesting the city?”
“None at all.”
“Nothing to do with our powerful Sorceress Lisutaris?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Cicerius dismisses me. I’m fairly satisfied with the meeting. He might help. If nothing else, I’ve ascended the social ladder a fraction in the last year. Not too long ago I’d never have been granted permission to see the Deputy Consul, never mind ask him for a favour.
Halfway between Cicerius’s office and the outskirts of Thamlin, I encounter a figure walking briskly up the road in a cloak and hood which hides her features.
“Makri? What are you doing here?”
Makri pulls back her hood a little.
“I’m in disguise.”
“I can see that. Why?”
“I’m going to kill Vadinex.”
“What? Why?”
Makri shrugs.
“I thought I’d help you.”
“How were you going to find him?”
“Call in at Praetor Capatius’s mansion and find out from someone there where he was likely to be.”
“And then go and kill him?”
“That’s right. If he was dead, there wouldn’t be a charge against you, would there?”
I’m almost touched by Makri’s concern.
“It’s not a bad plan. But I’ve just asked the Deputy Consul to intervene on my behalf and I don’t want to offend him by killing Vadinex before it’s absolutely necessary.”
Makri shrugs. She hasn’t asked me a single question about the Battle of Sanasa because, I know, she does not regard it as possible that I fled the field. I remember that I’m friends with Makri and feel bad about giving her a hard time.
“I’m about to hunt through some taverns in Kushni for Barius, Professor Toarius’s son. I think that if we apply some pressure we might get to the bottom of this theft at the college.”
Makri wants to come along, so we set off towards the centre of the city.
“Was it a really bad disguise?” asks Makri.
“Not too bad. But I recognised your walk.”
“I didn’t really need a disguise at all, but I thought if I killed Vadinex it would be better if people didn’t know it was me that did it. You know, with us living in the same tavern. It might have cast suspicion on you.”
“I appreciate you making the effort. I’m sorry I moaned at you.”
“It was more than moaning. It was vilification and character assassination.”
“Surely not.”
“You called me a vile Orcish wench.”
“Then I apologise for any offence. As always, I meant it in a positive sense.”
The heat is stifling. Makri removes her cloak as we walk through the dusty streets.
“I did mess things up with Tanrose. When I suggested she take some time to think about her feelings, I wasn’t expecting her to leave the tavern.”
“It’s not really your fault, Makri. The problem is with Gurd. He’s been a bachelor so long, he’s scared to acknowledge any sort of affection for her. That’s why he started criticising her bookkeeping.”
“To disguise his affection?”
“Yes.”
Makri nods.
“I have encountered this sort of thing in the plays of the Elvish bard Las-ar-Heth. Not concerning bookkeeping, but similar. The great Elvish lord Avenath-ir-Yill once made his queen cry by accusing her of infidelity with a unicorn, but really he was just upse
t because she no longer played the harp to him at bedtime. The reason for this was that her hands were sore from plaiting the unicorn’s mane, which she had to do to keep her son alive, but of course she couldn’t explain this to her husband without letting him know about the curse which hung over her family.”
My head is starting to spin.
“This is similar to Gurd and Tanrose?”
“Very. A frank exchange of views would have resolved the problem, but they both had secrets they didn’t want to reveal. Eventually, of course, it led to the great schism between the tribes of Yill and Evena, which, I understand, is not fully resolved even now.”
“You read all this in a play?”
Makri nods. She is apparently a great enthusiast for the plays of the Elvish bard Las-ar-Heth.
“Quite an unconventional rhyme scheme, and rather archaic in tone, but very stirring.”
“I’ll read some at the first opportunity,” I say, which makes Makri laugh, which she doesn’t do that often.
“Is that a mermaid in that fountain?”
We stare across the road at the large fountain. Sitting at the feet of the statue of St. Quatinius there is indeed a mermaid. Children laugh, and point. The mermaid smiles seductively, then fades away.
“Turai is becoming a very interesting place. Are we all going mad?”
“I don’t know. At least it’s only friendly creatures who’ve been appearing. It’s not going to be much fun if dragons start roaming the streets.”
“I liked the frogs,” says Makri.
By this time we’re passing through the royal market, just north of Kushni, one of Turai’s main concentrations of goods for sale. The shops here sell clothes, jewellery, wine, weapons, expensive goods mainly. The market stalls sell foodstuffs but are very different from the cheap markets of Twelve Seas. Here the servants of the rich come to order household provisions from market traders whose stalls are full of the highest-quality fare, often imported from the nations to the west, or even the Elvish Isles.
Makri stares through the window of a jeweller’s shop.
“Who earns enough to buy these things?” she wonders out loud.
A young woman emerges from the shop, followed by two servants. When she sees Makri she gives her the slightest of nods before passing by. I ask Makri who the young woman was.
“Avenaris. Lisutaris’s secretary.”
I’m already in pursuit. I’ve been forbidden to question this young woman. Always makes an Investigator suspicious. I cut her off with my bulk. She regards me rather nervously. I introduce myself but she already knows who I am.
“I was wondering if you could help me with a few questions.”
“Lisutaris would not wish me to talk about her business with anyone,” says Avenaris. “Even an Investigator she hired. Excuse me.”
She tries to walk past. I get in the way. She’s looking very, very nervous. More nervous than she should be. I’m not that frightening, not in daylight anyway. Not frightening enough to make a person develop a facial tic within seconds of meeting me, yet Avenaris’s eyelid is starting to tremble violently.
“Maybe you could just tell me a little about what happened that day at the stadium—”
“What is going on here?”
It’s Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky.
“Did I not specifically tell you to leave my secretary alone?”
“He stood in my way,” says Avenaris, making it sound like a major crime. She’s now close to tears.
“I’m sorry,” says Lisutaris, attempting to pacify her. “He really had no business bothering you. Go home now, I’ll make sure he doesn’t trouble you again.”
Avenaris walks off swiftly, still attended by the servants. The Sorceress regards me with fury.
“How dare you harass my staff!”
“Save the lecture, Lisutaris. What’s the matter with her? I asked her a polite question and she practically broke down in tears.”
“She is a young woman of nervous disposition. Far too delicate to be confronted by the likes of you. I must insist—”
“You should’ve let me talk to her. I get the strong impression she knows something.”
“Do I have to remind you that Avenaris is my niece? I did not hire you to harass my family. For the last time, stay away from my secretary.”
Lisutaris looks genuinely threatening. I drop the subject, for now anyway. I’ll pursue it later, no matter what Lisutaris says.
“Encountered any unicorns?” I ask.
“No. But there were two mermaids in my fish ponds, albeit briefly. I’m baffled. They’re obviously sorcerous apparitions but I can’t trace their source.”
“Did you get my message about Horm the Dead?”
Lisutaris nods, and frowns.
“Horm the Dead is a very dangerous individual. Consul Kalius should be immediately informed that he is in the city.”
“And has he been?”
“No,” admits Lisutaris. “I’m still trying to keep things quiet.”
In the past few days Lisutaris has been subjected to much questioning from fellow Sorcerers and government officials. So far it has remained informal.
“Deputy Consul Cicerius visited to ask me about some aqueduct renovations. I wasn’t aware that he valued my opinion on the city’s water supply. Harmon Half Elf happened to find himself in the vicinity and dropped in to share an amusing story about some Elvish Sorcerers.”
Given Lisutaris’s status, it’s difficult for anyone to come right out and demand to know what’s going on, though it’s perfectly obvious that something is. However, having moved heaven, earth and the three moons to get her elected as head of the Sorcerers Guild, no one in Turai wants her to be plunged into disgrace only a few months later. Turai would be severely damaged in the eyes of all nations.
“They’re hovering round the subject. I’ve been keeping quiet like you suggested, but I can’t hold out for ever. Tilupasis was sniffing round for information and you know what a cunning operator she is. I was reduced to telling her that I really had to ask her to leave because I needed some privacy to smoke my thazis pipe, so there goes my reputation among Turai’s aristocratic matrons. Now it’ll be all over Thamlin that Lisutaris can’t grant you more than a half-hour audience before she has to smoke thazis.”
“Didn’t everyone know that already?” asks Makri, who has not yet learned how to be tactful.
“I am not reliant on thazis,” says Lisutaris, coldly.
“Oh,” says Makri. “Sorry. I thought you were. I remember when you collapsed at the Sorcerers Assemblage and I had to carry you to your pipe and you were gasping about how you needed thazis, so I just naturally assumed—”
“Could we discuss this another time?” says Lisutaris, shooting her an angry glance. She turns the angry glance in my direction.
“Not that I had much reputation left after word got around that I’d hired you to buy back my diary which I was desperate to retrieve due to its being full of extremely intimate love poems. I understand that guessing the identity of my secret lover is now a popular game at dinner parties.”
“I’m shocked, Lisutaris. When I told Kalius about your diary, I thought he’d keep it a secret.”
“Who is it?” asks Makri.
“Who is who?”
“The person you’re in love with?”
“I’m not in love with anyone. Thraxas made it up.”
Makri looks puzzled.
“Why?”
“I needed a cover story. It was all I could think of.”
Makri is of the opinion that I could have done better.
“After all, many people say you’re one of the finest liars in the city.”
Lisutaris is certain that the Consul is going to ask to see the pendant when he comes to the ball.
“Kalius might not be sharp as an Elf’s ear, but even he must know by now I’ve lost the pendant. Damn it, I wish I hadn’t chosen this moment to hold a social function.”
“Talking
of your social function,” I say, “Horm the Dead mentioned that he might be paying a visit.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And as you say, Horm is a very dangerous individual. I think it would be wise for you to have some extra personal protection at the ball.”
“You may be right,” says Lisutaris.
I wait for my invitation. Lisutaris turns to Makri.
“Would you mind being my bodyguard again?”
“I’d be delighted,” answers Makri.
I stare morosely at the jeweller’s window. Lisutaris is a disgrace to the city. Her abuse of thazis is a public scandal. She deserves to be exiled.
“What do you suggest we do now, Investigator?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“I can’t really blame you for that,” sighs Lisutaris. “I have no idea what to do either.”
I’ve started to believe that there is no point investigating. Either someone is deliberately leading us on and mocking us at every turn, or the situation has become so chaotic that there is no point in doing anything. Either way, I’m beaten.
“If no one has any plans for saving the city, how about going to see Barius?” suggests Makri, brightly.
“Who is Barius?” asks Lisutaris.
“Professor Toarius’s son. I think he might be able to shed some light on Makri’s expulsion.”
Lisutaris offers to take us there in her carriage, which is waiting nearby. She doesn’t feel like going home, fearing that she will once more be confronted by an inquisitive Sorcerer or curious government official.
“Six more deaths in the city today,” I say. “Brings the total to twenty-seven, near as I can count. For that many unexplained deaths the Abode of Justice will call in a Sorcerer. Old Hasius the Brilliant will learn every detail of the affair.”
“Not for a long time,” says Lisutaris. “The moons are way out of conjunction.”
For a Sorcerer to look back in time, it’s necessary for the three moons to be in a particular alignment. According to Lisutaris, we’re in the middle of one of the longest blank periods of the decade. I’d have known that if I wasn’t so lousy at sorcery.
“It’ll be months before Sorcerers can look back in time. If that wasn’t the case I’d have been looking back myself.”