Thraxas - The Complete Series

by Martin Scott

  It goes on for a while in a similar manner. I’m devastated. I’ve been denounced by the Chronicle before, but never so damagingly. Reading the remarks about throwing down my shield, I feel a rage swelling up inside me the like of which I can rarely remember, and I wonder why the hell I haven’t killed Vadinex yet. Kill him, then pay a visit to the Chronicle and beat the editor. Damn these people, no one says things like that about me and gets away with it. I throw back my beer and storm out of the tavern, intent on doing some violence to someone, and quickly.

  I’m intercepted by Makri in Quintessence Street.

  “Thraxas, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Did you see the article?”

  “Everyone saw it. You can’t come back to the Avenging Axe. The Civil Guards are waiting to arrest you. They have a warrant.”

  “The Guards? Damn them. Every time the Chronicle criticises them they think they have to do something about it. When I get hold of that editor I’m going to—”

  “What about the pendant?” asks Makri.

  “I’ve still got it.”

  “Then why did three men die in the next street just an hour ago for no good reason? I thought the strange deaths were all related to the pendant, but it’s been with you. They can’t have looked at it.”

  I admit I’m baffled.

  “I thought it was all pendant-related too. Maybe it’s some madness unleashed by Horm the Dead. Anyway, I have to get the pendant back to Lisutaris. Once that’s done, she can get back to looking after the sorcerous requirements of the city. She can sort out the unicorns and all the rest.”

  “How are you going to get it back to Lisutaris? It’s not safe for you to travel around the city.”

  Four Civil Guards are heading in our direction. I withdraw into the cover of a shop doorway as they pass. In the dim evening light they don’t pay much attention to me.

  “I’ll just have to make my way there by the back streets.”

  Makri points out that it’s not going to be easy for me to even approach Lisutaris’s house.

  “They’re bound to be watching. Everyone knows there’s something going on with Lisutaris. If you turn up at her door, they’ll just haul you away.”

  “You’re right.”

  I try to think.

  “Do you have any idea what sort of costume I should wear?” asks Makri.

  “What?”

  “For the masked ball tomorrow. Lisutaris says I have to go in a costume. I’m not familiar with this concept. I was going to look it up in the Imperial Library but I didn’t have time, what with everything that’s being going on.”

  “This is no time to be discussing costumes.”

  “But I don’t know what to wear,” says Makri, sounding unhappy. “I don’t want everyone to laugh at me.”

  It’s really too much. A man can only stand so much harassment in his own city. I firmly resolve to slip out of the city under cover of darkness and never come back.

  “All the rich people will have really fancy costumes, I expect,” continues Makri. “How am I meant to compete with that?”

  “Wear your armour,” I suggest.

  “My armour?”

  Makri brought a fine suit of light body armour with her from the Orc gladiator pit. Made of chainmail and black leather, it’s an arresting sight, and the Orcish metalwork is not something you see in Turai every day.

  “Why not? You’re meant to be going there as Lisutaris’s bodyguard, so it would be appropriate.”

  “But am I meant to be appropriate?” says Makri. “Don’t Senators go dressed as pirates and things like that?”

  “I believe so.”

  “So if I’m really there as a bodyguard, shouldn’t I be dressed as maybe a philosopher?”

  Night is closing in. I should probably flee the city soon. I explain to Makri that while it is customary for people to attend these masked ball in costumes which may bear no relation to their normal station in life, it’s not something that is governed by rules.

  “I doubt if Cicerius is going to dress up as a pirate. Probably he’ll go as the Deputy Consul, but wear some discreet little mask. Only the more extrovert sort of Senator will turn up in outlandish garb.”

  Makri nods her head.

  “I see. So really, any costume is fine?”

  “I expect so.”

  “I suppose a person might gain some social status by turning up in an especially fine costume. It would get noticed, I imagine.”

  “Yes, Makri, you seem to be getting the hang of it. Could we stop discussing it now? I seem to have some other pressing matters to attend to.”

  “Okay,” says Makri. “I just wanted to get it clear. From what you say, my bodyguard costume should do fine. And after all, how many people will be there in a full set of light Orcish armour? Not many, I’m sure. And I don’t often get the chance to wear the helmet. Thanks, Thraxas.”

  Makri now looks happy. Obviously the costume problem was preying on her mind. Despite my numerous problems, I still manage to get annoyed that I’m not invited. Until it strikes me that the masked ball does present an excellent opportunity for getting myself unnoticed into Lisutaris’s house.

  “Of course,” I exclaim. “I’ll dress up as something and just waltz in tomorrow evening. I give the pendant back to Lisutaris, she shows it to the Consul and the main problem disappears. Once the threat to national security is out of the way, I can start proving I haven’t been going round killing or blackmailing people. Lisutaris will speak up for me once I’ve solved her problem.”

  Makri purses her lips.

  “But you’re not invited.”

  “So what? I’ll forge an invitation.”

  “You just can’t stand it that I’m going to the ball and you’re not invited,” says Makri.

  “That has nothing to do with it.”

  “Very likely. Admit it, Thraxas, you’ve been plotting to go to Lisutaris’s ball from the moment you learned I was going. It’s really not mature behaviour.”

  “Will you stop this? I don’t give a damn that you’re going to some party. I have no wish to attend and am merely planning to do so in order to bring the case to a conclusion.”

  “You don’t fool me for a moment,” says Makri, and looks cross. “What if you’re found out? People will think I let you in.”

  “Who’s going to think that?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Well so what? Since when did you care what Turai’s aristocracy thought of you?”

  “I just don’t want to be humiliated at my first major social function.”

  I clutch my hand to my brow, something I don’t do that often.

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Are you still dazed from staring into the jewel? I have important business to take care of.”

  Makri remains convinced that I wish merely to attend the ball.

  “You had better not embarrass me.”

  “Me embarrass you? Who was it got so wasted at the Sorcerers Assemblage that I had to pick her up and carry her out of the hall? Who threw up in front of the Deputy Consul?”

  “That was different. The Sorcerers Assemblage was full of people getting drunk and throwing up. Almost every Sorcerer, from what I remember.”

  In the next street a huge mushroom of flame suddenly spurts from the rooftops. Whistles sound and Guards appear from every direction. I shrink further back in the doorway. The flames turn green then disappear.

  “Another apparition. They’re getting worse.”

  “More unicorns in Twelve Seas today,” agrees Makri.

  “I have to get going now. I’m going to hide down by the docks. I have the pendant safe with me. Providing Horm or Glixius don’t find me, I’ll meet you at Lisutaris’s house tomorrow. See what you can find out about the secretary.”

  “What?”

  “Avenaris. I have strong suspicions about her. I think she had some involvement with Barius.”

  “Why?”

  “Investig
ator’s intuition. One other thing. The body count is way out of control. People are dying everywhere. I don’t exactly know how Moxalan is going to prove which deaths are connected to me, but in case it turns out they all are, get the last of the money and put a bet on sixty.”

  “Sixty?”

  “That’s right. See you tomorrow.”

  “What are you going to do for a costume?”

  “Good question. You’ll have to find something for me.”

  “Just fit on a pair of tusks and go as an elephant,” suggests Makri, who’s still showing signs of resentment at my plan to attend the ball. I ignore her jibe.

  “Bring me my toga.”

  “You have a toga?”

  “Yes, from my days at the Palace. It’s under the bed. And some sort of mask. You can find one in the market.”

  “It won’t be as good as my bodyguard costume,” says Makri. “Where will I find you?”

  “I’m going to hide in the stock pens at the harbour. There’s a warehouse there waiting for some horses to be shipped in, it’ll be empty for a day or two.”

  Makri agrees to bring me my toga there tomorrow. I steal away along Quintessence Street, heading off down the first alley I come to. With my excellent knowledge of Twelve Sea’s back roads and alleyways, I should be able to make my way to the harbour undetected by the Civil Guards. It’s lucky I went to see Tanrose. Without her food inside me, I’d never make it through the night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I spend a not too uncomfortable night on a pile of hay in a warehouse and remain there as the sun climbs into the sky. The warehouse has various stalls and troughs and is used as a pen for animals brought into the city by sea. Fortunately the owner is still waiting for his imported horses to arrive, so I have the place to myself. Apart from the strong smell of livestock, it doesn’t compare too badly with the Avenging Axe for comfort. I find some bread and dried meat in an unattended office which keeps me going. A watchman looks in every few hours, which has me diving under the hay, but other than that I’m undisturbed. I’m reasonably certain that the Civil Guards won’t look for me here, but I’m half expecting Horm or Glixius to track me down. No one arrives, however, and I spend the day lounging in the hay, eating dried meat, and mulling things over.

  It’s the first quiet day I’ve had for a long time. After nine or ten hours lounging in the hay my head is clearer and I’m feeling rested. Maybe it’s not so bad being a horse. In the early evening Makri wanders into the warehouse, whistling softly. I emerge from the hay to greet her.

  “Did you bring my toga?”

  “Toga, sandals and a mask. And beer.”

  Makri empties the contents of her bag. I’m immensely grateful for the beer. I drink it while I get the toga out. It could be cleaner but it’ll do.

  “They’re difficult to wear, you know. You have to drape it just right. Any sudden movement and it’s liable to fall off. That’s why you never see Senators running around, it’s too risky. What sort of mask did you bring?”

  Makri has purchased a cheap mask from the market. It’s a comic representation of Deputy Consul Cicerius.

  “It was the only one they had.”

  Makri wonders why I don’t give her the pendant to return. I point out that it’s already driven her mad once.

  “You’d be tempted to look again.”

  “You’re right,” says Makri. “It was so good being captain of the armies.”

  “What have you done to your hair?” I ask, suddenly noticing that her already voluminous mane is looking even fuller than usual.

  “I washed it in a lotion of pixlas herbs.”

  “What?”

  “They sell it at the market. It adds volume. And conditioning. Hey, I’m not turning up at Lisutaris’s ball looking like a tramp. It will be full of Senators’ wives. I have to go now.”

  “To do your make-up?”

  “Possibly.”

  Around the time of the Sorcerers Assemblage, Makri encountered Copro, one of the city’s finest beauticians. She was later forced to kill him after he turned out to be a rather deadly enemy, but even so, it had an effect. Previously dismissive of upper-class frippery, Makri can now be found painting her nails.

  “How are things out there?”

  “Hell,” replies Makri. “Unicorns, centaurs, fire, death, delusions. The city’s in chaos. I really wish I could afford to go to the beautician. Lisutaris has a team of them booked for the entire day. Maybe if I turn up early she’ll let me share.”

  Makri departs. Night is approaching and I struggle into my toga and put the mask in my bag. I try my best to hide my hair down the back of my toga. Then, hoping that I look something like a Senator who’s on his way to a masked ball, I emerge on to the streets of Twelve Seas to be immediately ridiculed by some small children who wonder out loud if I’m a sorcerous apparition. I chase them off with some language they’re not expecting to hear from a Senator.

  “That’s no way to talk to children.”

  Captain Rallee is looking at me with some amusement. Behind him are three Civil Guards.

  “You’re under arrest, Senator Thraxas.”

  I’m carrying one spell. I mutter the correct arcane words and the Captain and his companions fall to the ground. The sleep spell is very effective, one of the few I can still use with authority. Unfortunately I’ve now run out of magic completely and won’t be able to load any more into my memory till I consult my grimoire. I had been hoping to save that one spell for the masked ball in case I run into trouble there.

  Of course, having used a spell on a Guards captain I’m already in big trouble. Resisting arrest by use of sorcery is a very serious crime. I hurry off and wave down the first landus I see.

  “The home of Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky. At great speed.”

  I squirm around a little, trying not to sit on my sword, which is concealed under my toga. Only a few months ago I saw a group of travelling actors performing a sketch at the Pleasure Gardens in which a bumbling Senator’s toga fell off just as the princess walked into the room. I wouldn’t bet against that happening tonight. I wonder if Lisutaris has invited any princesses. Quite probably. The young Princess Du-Akai is a keen socialite. Also a former client of mine, in a confidential matter. I’d best try to keep out of her way.

  I keep my head down all the way through town. When we join the throng of vehicles making their way into Truth is Beauty Lane, I risk a glance. All around me are splendid carriages filled with people in elaborate costumes. Sitting in a hired landus with an old toga and an unimpressive mask, I already feel cheap. I still figure I can carry it off. I won’t be the only one in attendance without two gurans to rub together. You don’t have to look too far among Turai’s upper classes to find men so far in debt they’re never coming out.

  I toss some money at the driver, leap out of the landus and lose myself in a crowd of giggling young ladies who’re swaying up the driveway dressed as dancers. Unless they really are dancers. Assuming the air of a benevolent patriarch shepherding his flock, I stride confidently through the doors, take a glass of wine from a servant and look for the party.

  Mostly the party is outside, and I’m directed by a series of servants through to the extensive grounds in the back where music is coming from every corner and a great throng of people, all elegantly costumed and masked, are walking in and out of a series of large marquees. It strikes me for the first time that it may not be easy to immediately locate Lisutaris. I’d hoped she might be welcoming guests at the door, but she’s obviously in the midst of the throng, unless she’s still getting dressed. Having worked for the woman last year, I’ve had experience of the staggering amount of time she can take to get ready. Still, I’m guessing that as a matter of pride Lisutaris will be wearing the fanciest costume on view, so I look around for anyone who looks particularly fabulous. Unfortunately there are a lot to choose from. The gardens contain all manner of masked guests, from men who, like myself, are merely clad in their formal togas wi
th the addition of a mask, to others who’ve spent weeks preparing the most elaborate of outfits. Pirates, soldiers, Elves, famous historical figures, snow pixies, angels, Barbarians, all manner of masks and costumes. I approach a fantastic-looking figure clad in a rather graceful eagle’s mask, hoping that it might be Lisutaris, but am disappointed to hear the figure complaining bitterly to her companion about the price of merchandise in the market these days. Lisutaris would regard it as beneath her to complain of such a thing.

  I wonder where Makri is. She might be upstairs sharing a beautician with Lisutaris. More to the point, sharing a thazis pipe, which means they might not appear for hours. I’m becoming uncomfortable carrying the pendant around. I keep fearing that the latent power it contains might leak out somehow and affect me. Already I’ve seen a wood nymph that seemed alarmingly real. I should return the pendant as swiftly as possible. There’s no telling when Consul Kalius will take it into his head to confront Lisutaris and demand to see it. And if Horm the Dead really does plan to pay us a visit, I’d rather the jewel was with Lisutaris than me. Let her deal with his sorcerous malevolence. I must waste no time in hunting for Lisutaris.

  I need beer. The only unmasked people in the gardens are the waiters.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any beer on offer?” I ask one of them, eyeing his tray of wine with dissatisfaction.

  “I believe they have beer in the blue marquee, for the musicians,” he informs me.

  Still not wasting any time in hunting for Lisutaris, I make a swift detour to the blue marquee, where couples dance to the stately music played by a small orchestra. It’s a good steer by the waiter. No professional musicians are going to play the whole night fuelled only by vintage wine. Beer is available and I avail myself of it, raising a tankard to the band in appreciation. I watch the dancers while I wait for more beer. They’re performing the slow, formal and rather intricate court dances as taught by Turai’s dancing masters and performed in the best houses. I did actually learn something of the sort while working at the Palace, though it wasn’t an art I was ever comfortable with. A man dressed as some sort of jester guides a woman in a nun’s costume round, leading off the next part of the dance, and a great troop of pirates and Barbarians follow them round the floor. From the number of dancers in the marquee and the amount of civilised revellers outside, I’d say that Lisutaris’s masked ball was a success. I should find her. The night being exceedingly warm, I take in some more beer, just to be on the safe side, then set off, intending to try the house. Outside the marquee I meet the waiter again.