by Martin Scott
"Rubbish. You've a lot to learn about lying in the civilised world. My intuition tells me that Lodius is innocent."
Makri shrugs.
"Okay."
My intuition isn't telling me a thing. For all I know, Lodius could have packed the pastry with carasin and fed it to Galwinius with a smile on his face. I hope he didn't. I hate it when my clients turn out to be murderers. It makes things awkward.
On the journey home the air is noticeably colder. I shiver and draw my cloak around me. As I climb the stairs to my office, the first flake of snow settles gently on my sleeve. Winter is here. Tomorrow I'll have to put a warming spell on my cloak before I visit Senator Lodius.
In deference to his rank, the Senator will not be held in jail while he awaits trial. He's been placed under house arrest. Humiliating for a man of his class, but not as bad as languishing for months in a cell with common criminals. Justice in Turai can move painfully slowly and there's little prospect of Lodius coming in front of a judge before the winter is over. The preliminary hearings normally wouldn't start till the weather improved. It's possible, I suppose, that the Consul might call a special session earlier in an attempt to get the matter over with quickly. Lodius has a lot of support in Turai and his party aren't going to take kindly to these events. The Consul will be hoping that the oncoming bad weather and the impending attack by the Orcs will keep the lid on any civil unrest, but he can't be sure of it.
Reflecting that, in the circumstances, an early trial isn't that unlikely, I drag myself out of bed the next morning a good deal earlier than I'd like to. I set about placing the warming spell on my cloak. This is one of the few sorcerous acts I'm still able to perform, and with the Turanian winter being so grim, it's proved to be a life-saver in recent years. Then I head out into the first day of winter to clear the name of Senator Lodius, archenemy of the Consul.
At such an early hour there's no sign of a landus and I have to walk a long way up Moon and Stars Boulevard before I can find anyone to take me to Thamlin. The streets are busy with early activity as the city's traders try to make the best of the last few weeks in which they can trade. When winter really sets in, little business can be done. Ships are already hurrying into the docks, their captains relieved to have made it home safely before the storms arrive. The last wagons carrying goods from the south will soon be rolling in through the city gates. Both land and sea around Turai will soon be impassable. If the weather is particularly severe, the city itself is difficult to move around in. It's my ambition every winter to have enough money saved to enable me to avoid work completely, spending my time in front of the roaring fire at the Avenging Axe with a beer in one hand and a tray of food in the other. It rarely works out that way.
For someone facing a charge of murder, Senator Lodius doesn't seem particularly pleased to see the man who's about to investigate on his behalf. He's far less hospitable than his wife, and informs me that he's not certain I'm the right man for the job.
"This matter is obviously part of some plot by the Traditionals to discredit me and you don't have the right connections among the senatorial classes to investigate it properly. Furthermore, I do not approve of you bringing a woman with Orcish blood into this house. My shrine is at this moment being purified as a result of her presence."
Like many of Turai's democratic politicians, Lodius is a terrible snob. With his short grey hair and perfectly folded toga he's every inch the Senator, and his manner strongly suggests that he'd rather not be spending his time in my company.
"I didn't approve of you blackmailing me last winter. So we're even. Maybe you want to tell me some facts about the case?"
"I understand you were recommended to my wife by Deputy Consul Cicerius? Hardly a recommendation she should have taken, one would have thought, given the man's antipathy towards me. Are you in his pay?"
I'm rapidly becoming annoyed by his attitude. I don't expect my clients to love me, but no Investigator likes being branded a spy. Remembering that his wife was very polite to me, I persevere.
"No."
"So you say."
"What are you insinuating?"
"That the Deputy Consul would be pleased to have an informer in my household as he prepares his case against me."
"Senator Lodius, no amount of money would induce me to spy on a client."
"You are claiming to be an honest man?" The Senator chuckles. And yet when I needed your services last winter, it did not seem so difficult to make you do as I wished."
I'm now struggling to avoid abusing Lodius. I've taken his wife's money. He's my client. I make a final attempt.
"Perhaps you could tell me some details of the matter of the will? The one which Galwinius was about to prosecute you for?"
Lodius's face hardens.
"You will not investigate that matter."
“I'll have to. It's part of the case."
"I repeat. You will not investigate it."
"I have to. You're facing a murder charge, Senator Lodius. If I'm going to get to the bottom of it I can't miss out on parts of the story."
"No doubt the Deputy Consul will be pleased to hear all the details of my affairs you may learn from me," sneers Lodius.
I'm grossly insulted by the notion that I might be secretly working for the Deputy Consul.
"Lodius, you're a fool. You're going to hang and I'm the one person in the city who might prevent it."
"What you are," says Senator Lodius, "is a man who's facing a charge of throwing away his shield and deserting the battlefield."
"What?"
"Which would be an excellent reason for you to work for Cicerius. No doubt he has promised to drop the charges in return for spying on me."
I take three steps towards Lodius then push him, using all my weight. The Senator flies into the far wall and slumps to the ground. He's on his feet quickly, an expression of fury on his face. "How dare you lay a hand on me!"
"Consider yourself lucky. If you weren't my client I'd have punched your head off."
I march out of the room and head for home. I'm madder than a mad dragon. When I find myself in dispute with a wool merchant over a landus in Moon and Stars Boulevard I bounce him out of the way without mercy. I can't believe I've just been accused of such a vile piece of treachery. Lodius is fortunate I didn't run him through. I pull my warm cloak around me and stare through the window of the landus. Snow is falling lightly. The wind's blowing in from the east. For the first time I can almost sense the Orcish troops massing. My sorcerous powers were never great, but the training left me with my intuition enhanced, or so I like to think. I can feel the Orcs marshalling their armies.
I wonder if there's any equivalent to an Investigator in Prince Amrag's kingdom, maybe tramping the streets trying to clear some Orcish aristocrat of murder. I doubt it. Makri, one of the only people in Turai with any real experience of Orcish society, claims their level of civilisation is not so primitive as we Humans like to think. Maybe she's right. Even so, I've never heard of an Orcish Investigator. If such a creature does exist, he has my sympathy.
"How were things with the Senator?" enquires Gurd, as I reach the bar and hold my hand out for a refreshing tankard of ale.
"I knocked him over."
"No, I mean your client."
"That's who I'm talking about."
Gurd looks puzzled.
"I didn't think you were meant to do that."
"Well, it's not recommended," I admit. "But some clients, you have to beat them into shape."
"We didn't have Investigators in the north," says Gurd. "But we didn't have much crime. Maybe someone stole seal blubber from a neighbouring village every now and then."
Gurd sighs.
"I don't suppose I'll ever see the old village again."
"Why not?"
"Come on, Thraxas. What're the chances of anyone surviving this war?"
Makri appears in the bar wearing her normal garb, a man's short tunic. She's accompanied by Hanama and another woman I don't recognise. They w
alk up the staircase without acknowledging us.
"Were they being furtive?" I ask Gurd.
"I don't think so."
"They looked furtive to me. I don't trust Hanama. Any time she's with Makri something bad is going to happen."
"You mean an assassination?"
I shake my head.
"No. Hanama wouldn't share her guild work with anyone. But something bad."
Gurd nods.
"Where I come from, a woman like Hanama wouldn't be running around assassinating people. She'd be at home, cooking seal blubber."
"And a good thing too. The city of Turai could learn a lot from your village, Gurd."
I wonder what Makri is up to. I know she isn't teaching Hanama to read. The diminutive assassin is already an educated woman. Ever since the Senator's wife Herminis was sentenced to death, Makri's been acting strangely.
"Do you think they might be collecting money for an appeal?"
"Who?"
"The Association of Gentlewomen."
The very mention of the name causes Gurd to frown.
"She'd better not collect money for that organisation in this tavern."
Few men in Turai have any sympathy for the Association of Gentlewomen. The King doesn't like them, the Consul doesn't like them, and nor does the Senate. Tavern owners and Investigators likewise have very little sympathy.
"Herminis killed her husband," I point out. "What do they expect the city to do? Give her a medal?"
"Scandalous," agrees Gurd, shaking his head. "She deserves to be hanged."
"Of course she does."
"But only last month Senator Divanius was allowed to go into exile after he pushed his wife downstairs," says Tanrose, appearing unexpectedly at our side.
"That was completely different," I say. "Divanius was a war hero."
"So?"
"You can't go executing war heroes. It's bad for the city. Especially with the Orcs at the door."
"It's shocking hypocrisy," says Tanrose, transferring her gaze to Gurd.
"That's just what I was telling Thraxas," agrees Gurd. "Back in my village, we treated women better."
I'm shocked, rendered speechless by Gurd's base treachery. Tanrose puts her arm round his shoulders.
"Thraxas, you should learn from Gurd. You're too stuck in your old ways. The city's changing."
Having had more than enough of this, I take my beer to the table in front of the fire and sit down to ruminate on my investigation. It's a very comfortable chair. After some moments' rumination, I drift off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Two weeks later winter has the city in its grip. Snow is lying on the ground and the wind from the northeast is bitterly cold. It promises to be a hard season. This might not be such a bad thing. The Orcs certainly can't march till it's over, something that Lisutaris is apparently still concerned about. No other Sorcerer or politician believes this to be at all likely, or so I understand. Now that my services are no longer required on the Lesser War Council, I don't hear all the latest talk. What snippets of sorcerous gossip I do hear come mainly from Astrath Triple Moon. My old friend Astrath is in permanent disgrace due to some indiscretions on his part when he was the official Sorcerer at the Stadium Superbius - Astrath not proving to be as incorruptible as the position demanded - but as he wasn't actually expelled from the Sorcerers Guild he still hears some of the news.
I think old Astrath might actually be looking forward to the war. He's bound to be called into action and might well get the chance to redeem himself, if he can bring down a dragon or two. Sorcerers are too valuable in wartime for any to be left out. There's even talk of Kemlath Ore Slayer being recalled. He's in exile for murder at this moment, but he was a tremendous asset during the last war.
According to Astrath, Lisutaris is out on a limb with her theory that Prince Amrag might march in the
I winter. Apparently it's led to a lessening of her influence on the War Council. Ovinian the True has reported adversely on her performance to the King. Prince Dees-Akan, in overall command of the Council, has been heard to say in private that perhaps the head of the Sorcerers Guild is losing her grip.
As for war preparations, they're proceeding reasonably well. The entire west is in a state of alert and the response to the call hasn't been as poor as the more pessimistic among us feared. Simnia, the large state to the west of Turai, will send an army as soon as winter breaks. The League of City States has managed to put aside some of its differences and each of the small member states is making preparations. The League will assemble an army under the control of the Abelasian General Hiffier, who's respected far and wide for his endeavours in the last war. Troops from further west -Hadassa, Kamara and others - should be arriving not long after the Simnians. Even Nioj seems to be co-operating. The eastern borders of Nioj aren't too far from the Orcish Lands but they're protected by a mountainous barrier which no army can penetrate. However, if the Orcs march into Turai, there's nothing to stop them from turning north and heading into Nioj from the south. That being the case, the Niojans would rather make a first defence on Turanian soil than their own.
The Elves have sent word that they'll sail up from the south as soon as the seas are calm enough. Turai has good relations with most of the Elvish nations and we can depend on them. All over the west and south, states are arming themselves for war. Which is good news for Turai. Turai is the natural focus of any attack from the east. Once through the narrow stretch of land which makes up the city state of Turai, the Orcs could flood into the rest of the west, which is why even the Simnians, who don't like us, are prepared to defend the line here. Thanks to Lisutaris's early warning, we might yet throw the enemy back.
The standing army of the city state of Turai is very small. At times of national crisis all able-bodied men are obliged to enlist. If weather allows, there will be training in phalanx manoeuvring outside the city walls. This is something which has been unfortunately neglected in recent years, though most men in Turai have seen military service of some sort. Any man over thirty, no matter what his position now, will at one time have picked up his sword and spear and marched into battle. Most of them will have been expecting to do it again, some day.
To bolster our forces, mercenaries are being recruited and the city's population is starting to swell. Mostly they arrive either singly or in small companies, but the King has managed to hire a large contingent several thousand strong, from Sumark, far to the north. They marched in before winter set in and are quartered at the Stadium Superbius, just outside the city walls.
With so many mercenaries in the city, Makri is permanently busy at the tables, which prevents her from complaining too much about her college being closed for winter. Instead she complains about the mercenaries' manners. After a few early skirmishes, they've now learned to respect her. The Avenging Axe is doing a fine trade. This pleases Gurd, as do his frequent encounters with old companions he's fought with in the past. When they recognise their former comrade now employed as a landlord, they laugh, bang their fists on the tables and demand to know what an old soldier is doing serving beer for a living.
"Doing well, you dogs," bellows Gurd. And don't worry about me, when the Orcs arrive I'll be cutting them down while you weaklings are still in your beds."
Gurd picks up his axe from behind the bar and brandishes it to show he's lost none of his prowess. The mercenaries roar with laughter, drink heavily, and ogle Makri. Makri has a purse slung round her neck in which she puts her tips, and I'd say she was doing better than she has for a while. The war is good business, at least for the taverns and the brothels.
Tanrose and Gurd seem to be reconciled. Maybe not in immediate danger of getting married but at least friendly again. As a result of this - and the upturn in business - Gurd ceases to be as miserable as a Niojan whore and once more becomes the cheerful Barbarian with whom I marched all over the world. It's a welcome change. As is the return of Tanrose to the kitchen. For the first time in months I'm well fed. Facing
extra demands for food, Tanrose has retained the services of Elsior and is teaching her the proper art of cooking. A commendable idea, as I point out to Makri. If Tanrose gets killed in the war I'll still be able to get a decent plate of stew.
“Are you going to be a troop commander or anything?" Makri enquires.
“A commander? Me? I doubt it."
"But you're a Tribune. You're on the Lesser War Council. And you've got wartime experience."
"All good points," I agree. "Except I got thrown off the Council. And the rest doesn't count for much in this city. All the commanders come from the senatorial class. No one with "ax" or "ox" in his name ever got promoted in the Turanian army. Anyway, since I took on the defence of Senator Lodius I've been frozen out. I'm about as welcome as an Ore at an Elvish wedding up in Thamlin. I've spent three weeks investigating the case, and I've hardly learned a thing."
"Why are you still on the case? Lodius doesn't want you."
"I was hired by his wife. I took her money. Lodius is my client whether he likes it or not."
That's the theory anyway. In practice I'm making little progress. My investigation has been blocked on all sides. Any official I want to talk to is either busy or not available. The city authorities are keen to pin the murder on Lodius and it's not hard to see why. Lodius has so much support from all parts of the disaffected population that they haven't dared to move against him before. Now, with the Orcs practically at the gates and the population rallying round the flag, it's the one really good opportunity the King and his party will get to put Lodius away. If the Traditionals had tried to pin a murder on Lodius at any other time, the city would've been torn apart by rioting. But now, they might just get away with it.
"So let him hang," says Makri.
"I can't. Not if he's innocent."
Makri shrugs. Any time Makri suspects I might be following some sort of ethical code she laughs, and points out the numerous occasions on which I've acted with a notable lack of ethics. I don't know if she means it. She's an ethical woman herself, in her way.
"You're not really so bothered by that, are you? I mean, whether he's innocent or not? You just hate to give up on a client."