Thraxas - The Complete Series

by Martin Scott

  “Me too. Now move over, I’m busy.”

  “You’re not calling it off then?” says Glixius, loud enough so the people hovering round the doorway can hear. “For lack of money?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” he says, and strides off, his long rainbow cloak trailing behind him. It’s an unusual sight, a Sorcerer in this alleyway, but I wouldn’t say it attracts that much attention from the dwa dealers or their customers. They’re all too busy with their own business.

  Inside the tavern the first person I meet is Casax, local head of the Brotherhood.

  “Well, well,” says Casax. “Two Sorcerers in two minutes.”

  That’s a joke, sort of. My failure at sorcery is well known. It doesn’t help my mood.

  Casax has a shaven head, dark features, and a gold earring in each ear. He’s intelligent, and ruthless when he has to be. He’s a powerful man, large, though not as large as Karlox, his enforcer, who stands beside him dwarfing everyone, even me, and I take a lot of dwarfing.

  “You never told me you had a special game lined up,” says Casax.

  “What special game?”

  “With Glixius and General Acarius. How did you manage to get the General to come to the Avenging Axe?”

  “I didn’t know he was,” I admit. “But Glixius just invited himself.”

  “Well I hear he’s invited Acarius. They usually play with Praetor Capatius. If the Praetor comes down it’ll be the richest game ever seen in Twelve Seas.”

  He looks at me like I’m a man who doesn’t have a lot of money.

  “I can cope,” I say.

  Casax shrugs.

  “You better make sure you’ve got a good stake to start with. Otherwise they’ll just force you off the table.”

  Casax comes most weeks to play in the rak game at the Avenging Axe. Big money won’t be a problem for him. Since he took over the Brotherhood in Twelve Seas they’ve tightened their stranglehold on crime and increased their profits.

  “How’s the Captain?”

  “Rallee? He’s fine. Why?”

  “You might tell him to watch his back. You know that woman he’s running around with’s in trouble with the Society of Friends? She owes them money. Probably took up with Rallee for some protection,” says Casax. “I quite like the Captain. Always admire an honest man.”

  “As long as he doesn’t interfere with your business.”

  “It’s a long time since the Civil Guards could interfere with my business.”

  Casax frowns at a sailor at the bar who’s making a lot of noise. The sailor shuts up.

  “Anyway they won’t come after her in Twelve Seas,” says Casax. “So you don’t have to worry.”

  I move a little closer to Casax.

  “The Society worry me as much as the Brotherhood. Which is to say not at all.”

  “You hear that, Karlox?” says Casax. “We don’t worry him. Better take care not to upset such a tough guy.”

  Karlox grins. I’ve had some run-ins with him in the past. He’s dumb as an Orc but good at violence.

  “What did Glixius want?” I ask, not really expecting a reply.

  “To talk to a sailor about a missing item.”

  Casax points to a figure at a table, just discernible through the perpetual smoky gloom inside the Mermaid. I wonder if Glixius Dragon Killer has been looking for the Ocean Storm on behalf of the Sorcerers Guild. Lisutaris said she’d sent out some people. But Glixius isn’t trustworthy. More likely he’s working some angle of his own.

  Casax loses interest in me. He doesn’t care about me questioning the first mate. Maybe he figures it would be wise to cooperate, with the Sorcerers, the Civil Guards and Prefect Drinius all buzzing around. Or maybe he just feels like being polite because he’s looking forward to the card game. He’s not a bad player, Casax. Sharp as an elf’s ear, or near enough, and difficult to read.

  I sit down next to the sailor. His eyes are dull and they don’t light up when I appear.

  “I don’t know anything about the Ocean Storm,” he says, before I can even frame a question.

  “How d’you know I was going to ask you about it?”

  “Everybody else has. The Prefect. The Civil Guards. The Sorcerers.”

  His voice sounds weary. Perhaps the result of his arduous sea voyage. More likely he’s midway between doses of dwa.

  “What happened to Captain Arex?”

  “He disappeared. We just made it into harbour, and when we got there, no Captain Arex.”

  “He just disappeared?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “I saw the ship come in. The weather was calm. He couldn’t have been washed overboard. Where’d he go?”

  The first mate shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

  “You feel anything strange? Sorcery maybe?”

  He shakes his head again. Of course, there are plenty of spells that can’t be sensed by your average citizen.

  “Tell me about the Ocean Storm.”

  “I don’t know anything about it.”

  A waitress passes. I order a beer and sit in silence till it arrives. My companion doesn’t volunteer any more information. He doesn’t seem worried. He doesn’t even seem interested. I sip my beer.

  “When these people asked you questions—the Guards, the Prefect, the Sorcerers—did any of them offer you some financial reward for your trouble?”

  This gets his attention. He looks straight at me.

  “Now that you mention it, they didn’t.”

  I take out my purse.

  “None of them really know how to investigate,” I tell him. “They’re amateurs. Just get in my way, really.”

  I take out two gurans and lay them on the table. It’s more than I’d normally pay for information in a place like this.

  “Why did you go to the isle of Evoli?”

  The first mate slides the coins off the table and into the pocket inside his tunic.

  “To take on water. Not unusual.”

  “But something unusual happened?”

  “The captain disappeared inland with a few sailors and he came back with something in a bag. Didn’t say what it was and he didn’t tell me where he’d been. Later the sailors told me he went to see some old monk. An Elf. I didn’t know there was anyone on Evoli, it’s just a rock in the sea really. A few trees and a stream.”

  “Was it on your normal trade route?”

  “No. We made a diversion.”

  “Strange time to make a diversion, with the stormy season due.”

  “It was. We were lucky to make it back to Turai.”

  “So what happened to the captain?”

  The first mate shakes his head.

  “I don’t know. I was busy working a pump when we came into port. We were shipping so much water we damned near went under.”

  I stare at him.

  “I didn’t pay you to tell me the same story you told the Prefect. I’ve been at sea. I don’t imagine a ship’s captain ever disappeared without someone on board knowing where he went. And I don’t believe he was spirited away by a spell either. Where’d he go?”

  The first mate looks at me pointedly. I slide another guran across the table.

  “He has a woman in Silver Lane.”

  “Then give me the address and I’ll be on my way.”

  He gives me the address. I finish my beer and depart, satisfied. Having cleared up any foolish notions of mysterious disappearances, I’ve more of an idea what’s been going on. The captain might have been in negotiations with the Sorcerers Guild but he’s obviously got an idea of how he might earn himself more than they were willing to pay. I’m guessing he’s had a better offer from elsewhere, and has dropped out of sight while he tries to do a deal. Theft and greed. I’m back on familiar ground.

  Silver Lane isn’t far away. It’s one of the many small streets in Twelve Seas with tall tenements crowding in on each side, dwellings which are never comfortable and often dange
rous. The landlords bribe the city officials to look the other way while they build them up too high. Every year there’s some disaster when one of them collapses and there’s an outcry in the city for a while, but it never changes. I’d expect a sea captain to live in a slightly better area, but if he’s on the run it’s not a bad place to go, though the Guards or the Sorcerers would have found him soon enough if they weren’t so dramatically bad at investigating.

  The stairway is narrow, dark and dirty. I walk up three flights and knock on the door. There’s no reply. Maybe they’re out. Maybe they’re not keen on visitors. I speak a minor word of power and the door swings inwards, easily enough. I’m pleased. I always am when any of my small knowledge of sorcery pays off. The hallway is neat, with a small table and a clean rug. The captain’s lady keeps a nice slum. I can smell freshly baked bread. I glance in the first room, which is empty. I look in the second, which is not so empty. There’s a few sticks of furniture and two dead bodies. One male, around my age, face somewhat gnarled, probable effects of a life at sea, stabbed in the back. One female, younger, rather plump, wearing the sort of dress a poor woman buys to greet her lover. Also stabbed, and also dead.

  It’s a depressing sight. The neatness of the room makes it worse. The woman lives in the poorest part of town but makes an effort to keep things tidy. Her lover arrives back with a plan for making some money, presumably to take them somewhere better. Soon afterwards they’re both dead. Not such a great plan, all in all.

  I take a look around. I’m not expecting to find anything and I don’t. If the captain had the Ocean Storm on him, it’s long gone. In the tiny kitchen there’s a loaf on the table, newly baked. The captain’s woman was skilful in the kitchen. He should have stuck with his homely comforts instead of trying move up in the world. I tear off a hunk of bread, cram it in my mouth, and close the door on my way out.

  After I leave I feel downcast. I’ve spent too long sorting out problems in this city. With the Orcs outside the walls, I wonder why I bother. A beggar holds out his hand as I pass by. He’s dressed in rags, and suffering in the cold. When winter is harsh, the beggars die. Maybe this year they’ll make it through to spring. I should question him. He might have seen someone coming out from the tenement. But I hurry past, suddenly uncomfortable from the feeling that I’m going to end up like him, destitute and on the streets. The way my life has been going for the past few years, I wouldn’t say it was impossible. My mood worsens when I pass a tavern at the foot of Moon and Stars Boulevard which has a quarantine sign outside it, a large black cross painted on the white door. The winter malady is starting to spread.

  I’m not too far away from the tenement where Tanrose’s mother lives. I could go and question her. I hesitate. Having just encountered two corpses I’m not really in the right state of mind to launch into a fresh investigation. But time is short, and I need money. I sigh, and head over to visit her.

  Chapter Eight

  Tanrose’s mother is quite a frail, grey-haired woman. She’s made it to eighty, which is old in these parts, but I wouldn’t say she was going to be with us for too many more years. She has one servant, paid for by Tanrose, who leads me into their only large room where Tanrose’s mother is sitting in a large chair with a brown blanket over her legs. Though the family isn’t wealthy, the tenement they live in isn’t as bad as many of the others in the poorer areas. It’s small but comfortable, and well decorated, with some small tapestries on the walls, clean, uncracked glass in the windows, and polished floorboards covered by thick rugs. I catch a glimpse of the family shrine off the hallway and it’s bright and clean, and smells of incense.

  After the servant has brought me a glass of wine I wait for Tanrose’s mother to get down to business. It takes a little while, and as she tells me the story there’s an edge of bitterness in her voice. She hasn’t forgiven the authorities for putting her father in prison.

  “The privateers had an agreement with the King that they could keep whatever booty they took before they joined up with the navy. My father, Captain Maxius, attacked a Simnian treasure ship the day before he was due to meet with the squadron he’d been assigned to. Everything he took that day was his by right.”

  As she tells it, the authorities didn’t see it that way. Captain Maxius took part in the Battle of Dead Dragon Island honourably enough, but when he arrived back in port he found himself summoned to the Palace, where he was accused of withholding treasure from the King.

  “Other captains were jealous because he was so successful. The trial wasn’t fair. He was put in prison when he refused to hand over the money.”

  Tanrose’s mother coughs, and looks frail and upset. Some tears form in her eyes.

  “He died soon after. He wasn’t well after the voyage and he couldn’t recover in prison. They killed him. Afterwards they were always questioning my mother but she never told them anything.”

  She sighs, and looks off into the distance for a while.

  “That was all a long time ago. Now the Orcs are going to take over the city. Good, I say.”

  “Good?”

  “Why should I care? The city ruined my family. My father was wealthy. Look at us now.”

  She pauses again. She seems to be tiring. She revives long enough to look up at me sharply.

  “But the Orcs can’t get my father’s money. Find it for me. There’s fourteen thousand gurans. If you find it you can have one thousand.”

  “Where exactly did he bury it?”

  “Near the harbour. Under the whale.”

  “What?”

  “Under the whale.”

  I scratch my chin.

  “I don’t know of any whale at the harbour.”

  “That’s what he told my mother. Under the whale. And that’s what she told me.”

  “I really don’t think there’s a whale in Turai harbour.”

  “Not in the harbour. Beside it.”

  “Even so—”

  I break off. Tanrose’s mother’s eyelids are starting to droop. Any second now she’s going to nod off.

  The servant comes in and looks questioningly at me.

  “I’m leaving,” I say, and bid farewell. I leave the tenement very thoughtfully. She didn’t seem crazy and her memory seemed to be intact. Her story wasn’t that unlikely, given the history of Turai’s naval past, and the greed of the Palace. Any captain arriving back with a fortune might well find someone there trying to relieve him of it. Besides, I’ve been offered a reward of 1,000 gurans for finding the loot, which makes me even more inclined to believe the story.

  The only problem is I’d swear there isn’t a whale beside the harbour. I’m still musing on it as I arrive back at the Avenging Axe. I’m not pleased to find Makri in my office and my mood isn’t improved by the way she’s kneeling over Hanama, their faces almost touching.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demand. “No, don’t answer that. Just do it somewhere else.”

  I grab a bottle of klee and take a slug. All these sick women in my private quarters, it’s starting to unnerve me. Makri springs lithely to her feet. Everything she does is lithe, agile and nimble. I never noticed before how annoying it can be.

  “Hanama was trying to tell me something,” says Makri.

  I sit down at my desk. There’s a brief silence.

  “Stop pretending you’re not interested.”

  “Nothing an Assassin says is of any interest to me.”

  “Isn’t it time you lightened up on this hating Assassins all the time, Thraxas? It’s getting tedious.”

  “Tedious? This woman kills for money. It’s a vile trade that should have been outlawed long ago.”

  “You were a soldier. You killed for money.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “It just is. And don’t try and confuse the issue with some smart argument you learned from Samanatius the so-called philosopher.”

  Makri looks frustrated.

  “Do you want to hear wha
t Hanama had to say or not?”

  “No.”

  “Fine,” says Makri.

  She sits down on the couch. I try to ignore her. After a few minutes I glance up. She’s studying her nails. I tap my fingers on the desk, and take out today’s edition of the Chronicle. It’s full of news about the winter malady. There’s been a major outbreak in the north of the city and it’s expected to spread. Makri’s still studying her nails.

  “What the hell did Hanama have to say!” I roar.

  Makri looks up.

  “Pardon?”

  “What was it?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  I’ve really had enough of this. I rise to my feet.

  “Makri, I’ve got an office full of sick Assassins and Sorcerers and it’s starting to get on my nerves. I’m not in the mood for you to hang around acting like an imbecile. What did Hanama say?”

  Makri rises to her feet too.

  “She said if that fat Investigator comes back tell him he’s a drunken oaf.”

  I put my hand to my sword and draw it a few inches from its scabbard.

  “Tell me what she said.”

  Makri’s eyes blaze. She wrenches a long knife out of her boot and steps towards me.

  “What if I don’t?”

  Makri brandishes her knife. I draw my sword. There’s a knock on the inside door and Tanrose comes into the office. She looks aghast at my drawn sword and Makri’s knife.

  “What’s going on?”

  I sheathe my sword, with dignity.

  “A private disagreement.”

  “You should both be ashamed of yourselves,” says Tanrose. “What sort of way is this to behave?”

  Makri puts her knife back in her boot and looks sulky.

  “He started it,” she mutters.

  Tanrose frowns.

  “I was going to ask you to look after the bar while I went to the fishmonger’s. But I think I’ll ask Dandelion instead. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

  Tanrose departs. I sit back down at my desk. I light a thazis stick and throw one to Makri. She catches it and places it between her lips. There’s a few moments’ silence.

  “That was strange,” says Makri.

  “What?”