Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

by Martin Scott

  "I did have a few minor questions, Baron. Nothing of real importance."

  "There will be no more questions, minor or otherwise," announces the Baron. "I'm not having an unwelcome outsider disturbing my family."

  I remain silent. That doesn't satisfy Mabados.

  "Well?" he demands.

  "Well what?"

  "Are you going to give up this annoying investigation?"

  "No."

  The Baron moves closer. "You Turanians amaze me. Here you are, a bedraggled refugee, a guest in our country, and what do you do? Start bothering important people with your impertinent questions. Really, Lisutaris, have you no control over this man?"

  If it's an uncomfortable moment for Lisutaris, she doesn't let it show. "My Chief Adviser is experienced in investigation. If someone engages him for that reason, I see nothing wrong with it."

  "What does the death of a woman at the Record House have to do with him? The matter was already investigated."

  "It's possible that King's Steward Daringos may have overlooked a few details," I say, still trying to be tactful.

  "What details? It was an accident. And if there were any doubts, it would be for me to pursue the matter, not you. I'm presiding Baron in Elath and I'm ordering you to end this investigation."

  Baron Vosanos chooses this moment to get involved. "What sort of investigation? Sorcerous? I don't like the idea of foreign Sorcerers poking about, I must say."

  "I don't use sorcery," I tell him. Which is almost true. These days magic is mostly beyond me. "I just ask questions."

  "Then how are your investigations ever successful? Surely criminals don't volunteer information?"

  "I'm dogged. I keep asking."

  Baron Vosanos laughs. "I can't see you making much progress. Who thinks this girl's death was suspicious anyway? First I've heard of it."

  "Really? I thought it was well-know there were some suspicions. That's why Daringos was asked to investigate."

  "There were no suspicions," says Baron Mabados.

  "That's not what your daughter thinks," I reply.

  The atmosphere, already cold, drops to somewhere around frozen. Mentioning the Baron's daughter in public, in connection with an investigation, could be construed as a huge social blunder. But I'm fed up being tactful, and maybe it's time to shake things up.

  "If you so much as talk to my daughter I'll run you out of town," says Mabados.

  "I already talked to her. And you're not running me out of anywhere."

  "Why, I'll - " explodes Mabados, but he's unable to continue as the young King arrives at that moment, heralded by a fanfare of trumpets. Everyone bows respectfully. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Baron Mabados glaring at me with loathing. Perhaps he knows more than he's letting on.

  Chapter Twenty

  King Gardos looks anything but confident as he surveys the assembly of senior figures in front of him. We're expecting him to bring us up to date on recent developments, but after a brief greeting, he hands over to General Hemistos to do it for him.

  "Simnia's almost ready with their full army," reports the General. "But I don't have such good news from elsewhere. Kamara has promised very little. The Niojan ambassadors tell us they're facing delays. Jon, Amara and Bandid have promised to send what they can but none of them have large armies. As for the League of City States, they've been cut off by Prince Amrag taking Turai and they're terrified to leave their borders.

  "What about the Far West?"

  "Kastlin promises some archers but who knows how long it will take them to arrive? As for the Elves in the Southern Isles," The General raises his hands. "A messenger eagle arrived today and the news wasn't good. They hope to be able to sail soon, but we can't count on them bringing anything like the number of warriors they did last time."

  This causes some disquiet. Everyone knows we need the Elves. We can't defeat the full forces of the East without them. The General turns to Lisutaris. "Mistress of the Sky, what's the situation with your Guild?"

  "Every Sorcerer in the West will be here if I have to summon them with a transportation spell. If our army isn't going to be as strong as last time, we'll still have the most powerful Sorcerous force ever assembled."

  The dignitaries are temporarily heartened. Lasat Axe of Gold punctures the mood by reminding everyone that Orcish sorcery is also stronger than it used to be. "They still control dragons, and their means of countermanding our sorcery have grown stronger. Only last month, Mistress of the Sky, you found yourself bested by their leader, Deeziz the Unseen."

  "I was not bested," says Lisutaris, cooly.

  "Turai fell."

  "And I'm about to take it back. Which brings us to the next issue. It's time we selected a War Leader."

  Hemistos frowns. "Not everyone is here yet."

  "There are enough of us. We need a War Leader now and I put myself forward, as Head of the Sorcerers Guild."

  General Hemistos looks rather dubiously towards King Gardos, probably wondering if it's going to be awkward for a Samsarinan to support Lisutaris. It will be if Gardos wants the position himself. The first person to speak out is the leader of the Niojan delegation.

  "We were on the point of proposing Bishop-General Ritari."

  Ritari is commander of the Niojan Eastern armies. I've no idea what sort of man he is, but it hardly matters. There's no chance of the West following a Niojan leader. No one much likes them, even if they do have a very high opinion of themselves.

  "Shouldn't the position go to General Acarius?" asks a delegate from Juval. "He's our most experienced soldier."

  "He's also past sixty," mutters one of the Niojans.

  "I support Lisutaris," says the leader of the ambassadors from Abelesi, a small state on the South Coast. "She has the most experience in warfare."

  Voices are raised and the meeting quickly loses all sense of order. I was expecting as much. Choosing a War Leader has never been an easy process. There's no formally recognised way of doing it. No laws or treaties between the nations specify how it should be carried out. It's simply a matter of finding a person that most people will follow, and that's often proved difficult. It's sometimes happened that the soldier or politician most qualified for the task hasn't been chosen, because neighbouring countries didn't trust him, or were envious. Nations are always jealous and suspicious of each other. That's one reason the post has sometimes been filled by a Sorcerer. With their guild being international, they're not quite so strongly identified with a single country.

  The Niojans press their case for Bishop-General Ritari but the feeling in the Assembly Hall is that no military man can command enough support. Despite this, people hang back from agreeing on Lisutaris. Their doubts are given voice by Charius the Wise, who suggests that if the War Leader is going to be a Sorcerer, it should be Lasat Axe of Gold.

  "Would that not be rather irregular?" asks the Ambassador from Abelesi. "Lisutaris is head of the Guild, after all."

  "Not everyone agreed with that decision," says Charius. "There were doubts about the veracity of the voting."

  "There were no doubts!" thunders Lisutaris. "I was the clear winner." That's true, as far as it goes. She did win the election, but only after some cynical manoeuvring involving theft, bribery and blackmail, carried out by the most shameless citizens in Turai. Me and Makri, mostly. I remain proud of our efforts. The King, who's been silent for a while, directs a question at Lasat. "Do you seek the post?"

  "I would accept it, if necessary," replies Lasat.

  "We'd favour Lasat Axe of Gold over Lisutaris," says the ambassador from Simnia. That's not a great surprise. Simnia has never liked Turai.

  "As would my Samsarinan troops," adds Baron Mabados.

  "But the Elves wouldn't," I say, raising my voice. "Every Elvish Island trusts Lisutaris." That shuts everyone up for a moment. We need the Elves.

  "Perhaps it's not quite time to, eh…" the King looks hopelessly at General Hemistos. The General himself seems unsure of how to pr
oceed.

  "I suggest waiting a day or two," says Lasat. "To give us time to reflect."

  That probably means to give hime time to bribe people. It's not satisfactory, but the meeting breaks up without agreement. Lisutaris has taken it all fairly calmly, though she's every right to be furious at the disloyalty of the Samsarinan Sorcerers. As we're leaving, the King approaches. I'm expecting him to consult with Lisutaris over important war matters, but instead he asks Makri about his dragon.

  "He's doing well," Makri tells him. "He's been flapping his wings. I think he might be flying soon."

  "Excellent! You must keep me informed. Lasat is constructing a special barrier to contain the creature once it can fly."

  "I hope the dragon eats Lasat," says Lisutaris, as we leave the Assembly Hall. "Damn him and these Samsarinans. And the Simnians."

  "I can't really see the Niojans supporting you either," I say. "They don't like women in positions of power."

  "Life would be a lot easier if the Elves were here."

  "Could we hold off till they arrive?" asks Makri.

  "No. It needs to be decided soon. Prince Amrag isn't going to waste any time."

  I notice Makri rubbing her ribs, and ask her about her injuries. She says she's fine.

  "Are you ready to fight tomorrow?"

  "I suppose so."

  "You don't sound keen."

  Makri shrugs. She's still not enamoured of the tournament.

  "You need to win," I tell her. "Now more than ever. If it comes down to a straight choice between Lisutaris and Lasat, your status as her fighter might count for a lot. Lasat is sponsoring Elupus, it'll sway peoples' opinion if he wins."

  "That sounds stupid," says Makri. "And illogical."

  "People are stupid and illogical."

  "I'm afraid Thraxas is right," says Lisutaris. "Is is important that you do better than Elupus. Quick, hide me."

  "What?"

  "Kublinos is back there. I can't take any more of his romancing me at the moment."

  Makri and I shield Lisutaris as we move away, trying to evade Kublinos.

  "Don't make it obvious I'm avoiding him," says Lisutaris. "I might still need to borrow money."

  "I thought you didn't mind Kublinos?" I say.

  "I don't. But he's very persistent, and it's not really the best time for a romance, is it? Not when we're heading for war."

  "I'm not sure about that," I say. "Don't romances flourish before a war? Last chance for some happiness before everyone gets slaughtered?"

  "I don't think it's appropriate."

  "I think you may just be using the war as an excuse to avoid emotional entanglement," says Makri.

  This brings us to a halt. Lisutaris stares at Makri. "What?"

  "People who are nervous about any sort of emotional involvement do tend to look for external excuses to avoid it."

  "What nonsense," says the Sorcerer. "Whoever said such a thing?"

  "Samanatius."

  "What did that old philosopher know about emotional entanglements?"

  "A lot," insists Makri. "He knew how people think." She suddenly looks completely deflated. "I miss Samanatius."

  There's nothing much to say to that. The old philosopher is undoubtedly dead, buried in the wreckage of Turai. Makri, perhaps finally feeling the effects of her efforts over the past weeks, falls silent, and looks tired and depressed as we make our way home in silence. The sun has gone down but the streets are still vibrant, with merry revellers spilling out of taverns, laughing and singing. Elath is now packed full of visitors, and the local authority has set up more oil lamps in the streets, illuminating the scene. As neither Lisutaris, Makri nor I are feeling much like revelling, it's a relief to reach Arichdamis's house. My relief is short-lived. Merlione is waiting for me. She's wearing a rough, dark cloak and hood over her normal garments, having travelled here in disguise. That's understandable. It's a huge breach of etiquette for a Baron's daughter to be out visiting strangers late at night. Mabados would erupt if he knew. I lead her into one of Arichdamis's guest-rooms where we can talk in private.

  "I only have a few minutes," she says. "I have to get back before anyone misses me. Someone tried to kill me today."

  "Tell me what happened." We're interrupted by a loud crashing noise and Merlione jumps anxiously. "It's all right, it's just Makri and the dragon."

  Merlione calms herself, with difficulty. The strain is getting to her. "I went out into our flower garden and someone shot an arrow at me."

  "Who?"

  "I don't know. I didn't see. They must have been in the bushes, or the trees. But I bent down to pick a flower and at that moment an arrow went past me and stuck in the fence." She reaches into the depths of her cloak, producing the arrow.

  "What happened then?"

  "I ran inside." She looks anguished. "I didn't tell anyone. They won't believe me. My father already thinks I'm making things up."

  "You should tell your mother. She'll believe you."

  "I don't want to worry her more. Everything's so difficult already."

  "Tell her. She can cope. And stay indoors from now on."

  "Have you found anything out?" she asks.

  I admit I haven't made much progress, though I assure her I'm working on it. I escort her home, and keep watch till she's safely inside.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Next morning I set off early. With no strong leads and not much to go on, it's time to start bothering people. I'm intending to talk to anyone who might know anything about Baron Mabados's family. I spend the next six hours doing precisely that. In the main I talk to servants, but also question the messenger who delivers letters to Mabados's mansion, an apprentice at the saddler where he has his horses outfitted, and a woman who's been hired to provide flower arrangements for his son's wedding. It costs me some bribe money but that can't be helped. Servants don't just gossip to strangers for free.

  The saddler's apprentice introduces me to a another apprentice at the coach repair shop, where I manage to inspect the carriage that killed Alceten, which was damaged in the collision. It's a medium-sized phaeton, similar to the one Kublinos has lent to Lisutaris. These phaetons aren't very grand, and while there's a cover to provide shelter from the elements, they're quite open at the front. I'm not certain anyone could remain concealed while driving. There is a tall foot-guard. It might be possible to lie behind that, if you were small enough. Merlione did say that visibility was poor. I leave the repair shop unconvinced either way.

  Thanks to Lisutaris, I've managed to secure an appointment with Daringos, the King's Chief Steward. He's too busy to spare me more than five minutes, but when I meet him by arrangement at the Assembly House, he's friendlier than I anticipated. He goes so far as to tell me he can understand why there might be suspicions about Alceten's death, as it was such a shocking and unexpected event.

  "But I looked into it thoroughly, and it was an accident. Someone stole the carriage from Baron Girimos's grounds the night before. We haven't been able to find out the culprits, though it was probably some revellers from out of town. Elath can be boisterous during the tournament. Whoever took it abandoned it in the street. The horses were probably nervous, and they bolted. Probably startled by dogs, there are quite a few strays down there.

  "Can you be sure it wasn't deliberate?" I ask.

  "There was nothing to suggest it was. The senior record keeper, Zinlantol, saw it happen. She's a reliable witness."

  "You don't think there could have been someone driving the carriage?"

  "Of course not. Zinlantol would have seen him. Besides, why would anyone kill that poor young woman? I've investigated quite a few misdeeds in my time, and there's always a motive. No one had a motive for killing the Record Keeper's daughter. She didn't have an enemy in the world. I'm sure of that, I know the family."

  "If the carriage was empty, could someone have startled the horses deliberately?"

  The King's Chief steward is surprised at the suggestion, but retains
his polite composure. "I suppose that would be possible, but again, someone would have seen it."

  "Did you ask the local Sorcerers to look into it?"

  "That's not really the sort of work our Sorcerers do," replies Daringos. "Especially with all the war preparations going on."

  I can't find much fault with this. Back in Turai, the authorities probably wouldn't have investigated the matter any more thoroughly than Daringos has. Not for someone as unimportant as the Record Keeper's daughter. I've realised by now that I'm not going to learn anything here. I depart, feeling that I haven't made any progress. By the time I arrive back at Arichdamis's house I'm weary and looking forward to a rest before Makri's first fight in the late afternoon. I find her in the garden with Lisutaris, in the warm sun.

  "I hope you're not giving any of that thazis to Makri. She has to fight today. Besides, I need it." I join them on the grass, with my back to the wall of the house.

  "Busy day investigating?" asks Lisutaris.

  "I asked questions all over town." I inhale from Lisutaris's thazis stick.

  "What did you learn?"

  "Mabados's saddler doesn't like him. He's late paying his bills."

  "That's it?"

  "Just about. I've never met such a bunch of poorly-informed servants and shopkeepers. Hardly a scrap of decent information. Although Mabados not paying his bills was a recurrent theme."

  "Aristocrats are always like that," says Makri. "They're always late paying tradesmen."

  "True. The saddler doesn't like Baron Vosanos either. He owes them a lot of money even though he's the richest man in town." I turn to Lisutaris. "I need your help." I describe the recent attack on Merlione.

  "I wondered why Merlione was here last night," says Makri. "I thought it might be some sort of secret liaison."

  "Very amusing Makri."

  "Well, you fascinated her mother. If you sleep with the daughter as well, isn't that some sort of crime against the Gods?"