by Martin Scott
"You better talk soon or I'll kill you right here," I threaten, before withdrawing. Makri rises to her feet.
"Remember, be sympathetic," I whisper. I take a seat at the desk and Makri stands in front of the prisoner.
"Is it uncomfortable for you sitting there, Kerinox?" says Makri, managing to sound quite pleasant. "Should I loosen your bonds?"
"Get away from me," snarls the man in the chair.
"Would you like a drink of water?"
"Go to hell."
Makri looks confused.
"Wouldn't you like to tell me your problems?" she ventures.
"Shut up, bitch," growls our captive.
"Why don't you just answer the damned questions!" roars Makri, and hits him so hard that the chair goes over on to the ground.
I look at the body now unconscious on the floor.
"Well that was splendid, Makri. Now you've killed him. What happened to the sympathy?"
"I got annoyed when he insulted me."
Makri purses her lips.
"You should have let me be the bad guard. I'm much more suited to it."
We haul the chair upright. Kerinox sags, unconscious in his bonds. He moans. At least he isn't dead. I spread my arms wide and turn to Makri.
"Now I don't know what to do."
"How about if you try being the good guard?" she suggests.
"It's too late for that. I've already hit him. Couldn't you have controlled your temper for once?"
Makri brushes this aside.
"Hey, I did my best. The problem as I see it is that you have no real leverage. He knows you're not going to kill him. All he has to do is wait and you have to let him go eventually. The whole thing has been a tactical blunder on your part. You should have thought about it more before you started."
"When it started I was knee deep in snow with four guys attacking me. I didn't have a lot of time to think."
"Well, the plan you came up with was a bust," says Makri. "Too elaborate."
"It might have worked if you hadn't slugged him at the first opportunity. You were meant to be good guard, not violent aggressive guard."
"I can't be blamed for this debacle," objects Makri. "I was miscast right from the start."
By now my captive is beginning to show signs of life.
"You're just not threatening enough," says Makri.
"What? I'm plenty threatening."
"You're not. Remember how I scared that guy up in Kushni when we needed to find the green jewel? Now that was threatening. Wait here."
With that Makri disappears from the room, appearing back in moments with her black Orcish sword. It's an ugly weapon, dark and razor sharp. Rather than reflecting light, it seems to suck it in.
"I'll show you threatening," mutters Makri. She strides over to the red-haired man, places her sword near to his throat and yanks his head back.
"You see this? This sword was forged by demons in an Orcish furnace beneath the cursed mountain of Zarax. When it cuts into you it'll drink your soul and send you down to Orcish hell, where you'll spend the rest of eternity as the only tortured Human in an inferno of damned Orcs. And you see these?"
Makri pulls back her hair, displaying her pointed ears.
"These mean I know how to use it. And today I'm feeling very bad towards all Humans. So you give me the information before I count to five or get ready to meet the legions of the Orcish damned."
Makri starts counting, and she doesn't linger over it. By now the unfortunate Kerinox is looking genuinely frightened and I think he might be about to talk when Makri suddenly slices at him. He screams. I'm expecting to see his head fly off his body but Makri miraculously stops the blade just as it touches his throat.
"You were saying?"
The red-haired man looks at me imploringly.
"Get this demon away from me. I'll tell you who sent me."
I feel rather sorry for him. I wouldn't like to be tied in a chair with Makri waving that sword around my head either. Makri retreats to my desk and sits calmly smoking my thazis while I question him.
He tells me that he was sent to kill me by Bevarius. The Consul's assistant. The man who picked up the scroll.
"Do you often kill people for money?"
Kerinox shrugs.
"Now and then."
I don't learn much more, and in truth I'm sick of the whole thing. Once I've learned that it was Bevarius who hired men to attack me I don't need to know much more. Not from Kerinox anyway.
"If you come anywhere near the Avenging Axe again Makri will kill you with the Orcish sword. I've seen men die from it. They never seem to go easily'
I untie him. He's bruised, and bleeding from a cut under his left eye. I shouldn't feel any sympathy. He's twice tried to kill me. For some reason I feel some sympathy. He departs without another word. Throughout this, Makri has been sitting quietly at my desk, smoking thazis. I hand over seven and a half gurans and thank her for her help. She accepts my thanks as graciously as she normally does, which is not that graciously.
"You've been really bad-tempered recently. Even by your standards."
I shrug, and light a thazis stick for myself.
"Difficult case. Men trying to kill me. Snow on the ground. War looming. Never makes for a happy life."
"I suppose not," says Makri. "Though I don't see why you have to start complaining every time someone sends me flowers. It's not my fault everyone is sending me flowers. Do you have any idea why everyone is sending me flowers?"
"It baffles me. I see you have a new admirer."
"Toraggax?" says Makri. "I quite like him."
"You do? I wouldn't have thought he was your type."
Makri has never expressed any interest in any mercenary before. Or any Human, that I can remember.
"He's quite intelligent," she says. "And polite."
She stubs out her thazis stick.
"I was talking to a professor at the academy. A friend of Samanatius. He studies plants. I asked him about carasin. You said Galwinius was poisoned with carasin and Senator Lodius is the only person who imports it into Turai."
"True."
"Well there's a whole family of plants that act in the same way," says Makri.
"What do you mean, family? Plants don't have families."
"Yes they do. Sort of. The professor classifies them into different species. Like they're related to each other."
"It's the first I've heard about it. So what?"
"So there are three other plants like the carasin bush that can be used to make poison. The effect is very similar. Similar enough to fool almost anyone. They're not well known because they have no commercial use. But the professor said that a person who knew about them could make a poison that the authorities would identify as carasin because its action was just the same."
Makri smiles.
"Interesting?"
"Very interesting. Where do these plants grow?"
"One of them grows in the hills just north of the city. So while you've been wondering who else could possibly have brought carasin into Turai, it probably wasn't carasin at all. Just some plant from the hills that anyone with a bit of knowledge could have collected."
Makri is pleased with herself, which I suppose she has a right to be. I wonder who might have such specialised knowledge of poisonous plants. The Assassins, I suppose. Or maybe just someone from a law enforcement agency who came across the rare poison in the line of his work.
Night is falling. I ask Makri if she's working downstairs but she shakes her head
"Studying?"
"No. I'm going out."
"Out? Where?"
"Just out," says Makri and looks furtive.
"Is this connected with these mysterious meetings?"
"There are no mysterious meetings. It's my reading group."
It's none of my business. I let it drop.
"It's cold as the Ice Queen's grave outside," says Makri.
"So?"
"So lend me the magic warm
cloak."
"I need it."
Makri complains loudly about the ingratitude of an Investigator who'd never get a single thing done if it wasn't for the aid of a far more intelligent companion who time after time lends him her valuable assistance. I scowl at her and hand over the cloak.
"Make sure I get it back in the morning. I didn't spend all that time as a Sorcerer's apprentice just so my far more intelligent companion could walk around in my magic warm cloak."
Makri drapes the cloak around her, takes another thazis stick without asking, and departs. A messenger arrives at my door. He's carrying a reply from Domasius.
"Prefect Galwinius's estate split between wife and Consul Kalius," says the message.
It's not such an unusual arrangement among the senatorial classes. Galwinius is a cousin of Kalius. Keeping the fortune in the family is important. His will leaves half of his money to his wife and the other half to the Consul. Nothing strange about that. Nothing strange except I've been investigating Galwinius's death and now the Consul's assistant has been trying to kill me. And the Consul's assistant picked up some scroll that Galwinius was carrying right before he was murdered. And Bevarius and Kalius were in the room when Galwinius died. And the food came from the Consul's kitchen. And now Kalius is a great deal richer than he used to be. I look at the second part of Domasius's message.
"Consul Kalius greatly in debt," it reads. "Lost money speculating on corn imports and has been borrowing all round town."
It's something to think about. I'm tired. I'll think about it tomorrow. I finish my thazis stick and go through to my bedroom, which is small, cold, and generally cheerless. I speak a word of power and my illuminated staff bursts into life. It's an excellent illuminated staff, a much finer item than a man with such a poor command of sorcery as myself has any right to own. I won if from an Elf lord, at Niarit. The golden light makes my room look rather less grim. I speak another word of power to tone down the light to a soft, warm radiance. On a whim, I leave it lit while I go to sleep, something I haven't done for a long time.
Chapter Seventeen
I'm woken in the middle of the night by someone shaking my arm. I'm already reaching for my sword as I haul myself upright.
Thraxas, it's me!"
It's Makri, looking agitated. The magic warm cloak is ripped and there are grazes on her shoulders and forehead.
"What's happening?"
"Listen and don't interrupt. Tonight we went to rescue Herminis. That's what the Association meetings were about. Planning the rescue. But it went wrong."
"Of course."
"Why of course?"
"Because your useless Association couldn't organise a sword fight in an armoury."
"I asked you not to interrupt," says Makri, sharply. "Herminis was being transferred from prison to the execution site and we knew when this was happening because the woman who cooks at the prison is a member of the Association. So Lisutaris and Tirini Snake Smiter—'
"Tirini?"
"Yes."
Tirini Snake Smiter is a powerful Sorcerer but not one ever known to do anything except wear expensive outfits and host fabulous parties.
"Tirini and Lisutaris worked magic to make all the guards forget what they were doing while me and Hanama intercepted the wagon and drove off with Herminis."
"This all sounds crazy. The Guards will be down on you like a bad spell."
"No they won't. Lisutaris worked out how and when to do it so the Guards' Sorcerers would never be able to find out what happened. She is head of the Sorcerers Guild, after all. Stop interrupting. Everything was going fine and we drove the wagon down to Kushni without anyone spotting us because it's snowing heavily, and then we went to the secret villa, which is a large house just on the edge of Kushni owned by the Palace and which has a secret room lined with Red Elvish Cloth."
"What?"
"Red Elvish Cloth. It prevents all sorcery from penetrating."
"I know what it does. I just didn't know there was a secret room full of the stuff in Kushni."
"Built by a former king for liaisons with his mistress, apparently. It's a secret. That's why it's called the secret villa."
"How did you know about this place?" I ask.
"Tirini had an affair with Prince Dees-Akan last year. They used to meet there. Tirini made a copy of the keys, also in secret."
"I get the picture. Go on. No, wait. Is this story going to end with you telling me that Herminis is currently next door in my office?"
"Of course not. How stupid do you think we are? We were going to hide her in the secret villa and then smuggle her out of the city afterwards. So we got to the villa and Tirini met us there and everything would've been okay except when we went into the sorcery-proof room we found an Orcish Sorcerer there."
An Orcish Sorcerer? Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!"
"What was he doing?"
"Sleeping," says Makri. "But he woke up pretty damned quick. He threw this spell at me which knocked me down but I was wearing my spell protection charm which saved me, and then Hanama threw a knife at him which should have pierced his neck except he had some sort of protection as well, and then Tirini used a spell herself and he used one back and there was an explosion and the place caught fire. And this Sorcerer was strong, he kept trying to fire more spells at us with some sort of wand, and Tirini could only just manage to hold him off."
Makri pauses for breath.
And then?"
"Then I managed to distract his attention by flinging a chair at him and so Tirini managed to knock him down with a spell. Then Hanama kicked him and he fell down and I grabbed the wand and then the place really started blazing badly and we all had to run."
"What happened to the Sorcerer?"
"Who knows? By this time the roof was coming down. Outside, the whole neighbourhood had heard the commotion and everyone was running around screaming and calling for the fire wagons and the four of us just piled into the wagon and drove here."
"Four of you?"
"Me, Hanama, Tirini and Herminis."
"Where did you take Herminis?"
Makri crosses one foot over the other and looks a little awkward.
"She's next door in your office."
"Goddammit! You said she wasn't!"
"I was going to break it to you gently."
I march from my bedroom into my office, where I find Hanama, Tirini Snake Smiter and Herminis all looking somewhat the worse for wear.
"Congratulations on a successful mission!" I say, and I mean it to sting. "Trust the Association of Gentlewomen to bungle anything they set their well-manicured hands to."
"In fairness to us," says Makri, bringing up the rear, "we couldn't really anticipate that there was going to be an Orcish Sorcerer in our safe house. I mean, what are the chances?"
She has a point, I suppose. But they'd have bungled it some other way, enemy Sorcerer or not. I round on Makri.
"What is it with you and my office? Last year you brought that exotic dancer here when the Guards were looking for her."
"She needed help."
"She turned out to be a spy for the Brotherhood. And now you've brought this - this - condemned murderer here. It's not like upstairs at the Avenging Axe is a cunning hiding place. Captain Rallee is in and out of here every week. WTiy couldn't you take her somewhere else?"
"Like where?"
"Like Morixa's bakery. There must be somewhere she can hide there. Why drag me into this?"
Herminis, a slender woman of thirty or so, with fair skin and blue eyes, rises to her feet. Despite her months of incarceration, she's not in bad shape. When they lock up a Senator's wife, they give her a private suite and let her keep her own clothes, and have food sent in from home. Probably not such a hard life, till it's time to be hanged.
"I'm very sorry to inconvenience your—' she begins.
I hold up my hand.
"Stop right there. I'm in enough trouble already due to Senators' wives being
polite to me. What is it with you people? You think you can just go round being well-mannered all the time?"
Herminis looks confused, and turns towards Makri. Makri's eyes flash with anger.
"Don't abuse this woman. She's been in prison for four months. I brought her here because I thought you might be able to help."
"You did?"
"Yes. After the fight we weren't thinking too clearly. None of us knew what to do."
It's rare indeed for Makri ever to admit to anything that might be construed as a failing.
"So you thought you'd drag me into your sorry mess?"
"We're all facing arrest and execution. I thought you might have some ideas." Makri's voice rises angrily. "I should have realised you're not capable of helping a friend without going through an endless round of sarcasm, bad temper and insults. Foolish of me, I've experienced it often enough."
Makri takes Herminis's hand.
"Come on. We'll see if Morixa has any suggestions."
I bite back the dozen or so bad-tempered, sarcastic insults that spring to mind and march over to the door, blocking their exit.
"Don't go out there. You'll only make it worse. The Guards will be combing the city for you by now."
I turn to Tirini.
"Can you hide us?"
She shakes her head.
"I'm out of spells. The Orcish Sorcerer was tough."
Once a Sorcerer uses a spell she can't use it again till she's relearned it. The great Sorcerers can hold quite a few spells in their memory, but any sustained period of action will leave them drained. I take my grimoire from the shelf and hand it to her.
"This is out of date but you'll find something in it. Learn it and use it quick."
Tirini takes the book and opens it at the index. She's wearing the most expensive-looking fur cloak I've ever seen, a garment so thick and luxurious I'm not even sure what animal it's made from. Northern wolf maybe, or even the rarely seen golden bear. Her hair is bleached brilliant blonde and dragon-scale earrings dangle from her ears. Inconspicuous she's not. I'm praying no one saw them roll up outside in their wagon. At this time of night, with the snow coming down, it's possible they were unobserved.
"Did you stable the horses?"