Thraxas and the Ice Dragon (11 page)

"He'll do anything to discredit me," says Lisutaris.

"If Lasat did take them, what will he do with them?" wonders Makri.

"He'll produce them whenever he thinks it's most damaging," says Lisutaris. "Probably along with some fake story about an Orcish spy stealing them from me, and him heroically recovering them."

"We should have reported the theft when it happened!" says Arichdamis. "Now it looks like we're colluding with the enemy."

"We can't let anyone know. It will look too bad for Lisutaris."

Arichdamis has taken to pulling anxiously on his long grey beard. He goes away muttering about what a black day it was that he allowed Turanians into his house. Relations between us, previously cordial, have plummeted. Makri watches him go. "Now we've offended Arichdamis," she says, and sounds genuinely upset.

"If we're sure Lasat took the plans, shouldn't we be trying to get them back?" I suggest.

"Lasat will have them well hidden by now," says Lisutaris.

"So? You're more powerful than he is. Or you were till recently."

Lisutaris's eyes blaze. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you don't have so much power when you're continually intoxicated by thazis."

"Don't lecture me on intoxication," cries Lisutaris.

"Why not? You haven't been thazis-free since you set foot in this place. No wonder Lasat got the better of you."

"You're being unfair!" says Makri. "After all, Lasat is a secret addict too. He takes dwa, remember? Probably he's even more intoxicated than Lisutaris, some of the time."

"I'm not intoxicated!" cries Lisutaris. "If I was, could I do this?"

The Sorceress whips out a vial of kuriya, a black liquid used for various magical purposes. For most Sorcerers, controlling it is a difficult art. Not so for Lisutaris. She pours the liquid into a saucer and snaps her fingers.

"I'll show you who's intoxicated. Kuriya, where are the plans?"

Makri and I peer at the pool of dark liquid. Lisutaris, using her mighty powers, should be able to produce a picture of the current location of the missing item. We stare for a long time. Nothing happens. The Mistress of the Sky tries again.

"Show me the location of Arichdamis's plans." Nothing happens. "The moons are obviously in the wrong alignment," says Lisutaris. "I must consult my charts."

With that, she strides off briskly, leaving a non-functioning kuriya pool behind her. Makri looks at me with a worried expression. "Are her powers really on the wane?"

I shrug. "It's hard to say. Looking at the kuriya is always difficult, and it hasn't been working well for a lot of Sorcerers lately. The three moons do go through cycles. Maybe we're entering a bad one."

Makri's first fight is scheduled for later in the day. Both she and Lisutaris are planning to visit the Queen's Bathing House before going on to the tournament field. I'm heading off to investigate. I'm still far from certain that there's really anything that needs investigating, but I'll do it anyway. I plan to visit the King's Record House, where Alceten died, to examine the scene and ask questions. There were witnesses who should be worth talking to. Before I leave the house I offer a final word of encouragement to Makri.

"I've bet all our money on you. If you don't win your fight we'll be begging on the streets."

Equipping Makri used up most of the money I borrowed from Baroness Demelzos. I only had sixty gurans left, a frustratingly small sum given the good odds which were available at the bookmaker. Big Bixo was offering six to one on Makri winning her first fight, sixteen to one on her qualifying from her group, and a hundred to one on her winning the tournament. I'd hoped that her odds for winning the tournament might be better, given that she's completely unknown, but the bookmakers here won't offer anything larger, in case an unknown fighter turns up who happens to be a sword-fighting prodigy. That's extremely rare, but it has happened. No one knew me when I gloriously defeated all opposition all those years ago.

After studying the odds for a while, and weighing up my options, I place thirty gurans on Makri to win her first fight, and thirty more on her winning the whole tournament. I still regret only having sixty gurans to gamble with, but at least it's a start.

By now Elath is really starting to come alive. There's hardly a room to be had anywhere. Visitors are camped out in tents in the fields around the town. Everywhere you go, people are discussing the chances of their favourites, or passing on bits of gossip about who's in good form with a sword, who might have an injury, or who might have been spending too much time in taverns. Elupus is still the popular favourite but there's plenty of backing for other famous fighters. Gabril-ixx, from some isle in the far north, won a tournament recently and is getting a lot of attention. So is Uzbister, from Mattesh. He was out of action for a year following a bad shoulder wound, but now he's back, and he's a popular fighter.

The King's Record House, behind the town hall in the main square, is another ugly building. The road in front is narrow. Not much room for dodging if a carriage were heading your way. There are two guards at the door but they hardly bother to look at me as I enter, and don't acknowledge my announcement that I'm Chief Adviser to the Head of the Sorcerers Guild, here on official business. Inside, the building is no more impressive. A few pillars, an old statue of Saint Quatinius, some small stone figures of minor saints, and a badly designed fresco of an ancient Samsarinan King marching off to war. There's only one person in sight, a woman with long, greying hair, sitting behind a very large wooden desk, writing something in a ledger. I greet her politely.

"Thraxas of Turai, Chief Adviser to Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky."

I'm expecting this middle-aged record keeper to be hostile but instead she greets me quite warmly. Maybe she's bored at work. Though she's plainly dressed, I notice she has a nice pair of queenstone earrings.

"How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Zinlantol."

"I'm Zinlantol."

"I'm told you were a witness when Alceten was killed."

Zinlantol's lips compress. She puts down her quill. Suddenly, she's not so friendly.

"I was. I'd rather not talk about it."

"I'd just like to ask you a few questions."

Zinlantol is about my age, maybe a little older. She has a surprisingly steely gaze. "Who sent you?" she demands.

"Baroness Demelzos."

Zinlantol looks at me very suspiciously, wondering if I'm telling the truth. "Did you actually see the accident?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I already told Chief Steward Daringos everything I know. He conducted a very thorough investigation."

That seems like an odd answer. I haven't implied that he didn't. I persevere. "Did you see any sign of a driver in the carriage that knocked Alceten over?"

"Of course not. I would have reported it if I had. It was simply an accident. The horses weren't secured properly, and they bolted."

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did they bolt?"

"Presumably something startled them."

"But you don't know what?"

"No. I'd only just left the building when the accident happened. All I saw was poor Alceten being run down."

"It doesn't sound like you had much time to see what was happening. I hear it was raining too. Heavy rain. Visibility can't have been that good. How can you be sure there was no driver?"

Zinlantol rises to her feet. "If you have no official business at the King's Record House, I think it's time for you to leave."

We stare at each other. I take in her dress, the plain woollen drape that covers her shoulders, and a thin metal band on her ring finger, all of them cheap. But then there's the valuable queenstone earrings.

"Nice earrings," I say. "A present from a friend?"

The record keeper abruptly spins on her heel and walks off, disappearing from view through a door marked 'private.' I walk towards the entrance, past the statue of Saint Quatinius. I think he might be staring at me.

"That's what I do," I tell him. "Bully middle-aged women for a living."

The soldiers outside the door ignore me as I leave. They're discussing the tournament.

"Elupus will win it again," says one "I've got my money down already."

Chapter Fourteen

The weather is improving rapidly. Spring appears quickly in these parts. It's warm, and I'm labouring slightly as I make my way towards the Bathing Houses to meet Lisutaris and Makri. As I pass the King's Bathing House, General Hemistos emerges looking clean, healthy and weather-beaten. To my great surprise, he greets me in very friendly manner.

"Thraxas, wasn't it? Is your companion Makri due to fight today?"

"She should be, unless the other fights run late."

"Excellent," says the General. "I look forward to it. Was she really champion gladiator of the Orcish lands?"

There's an eager tone in Hemistos's voice which makes him sound younger than his years. I recognise the tone. I've heard young men sounding eager about Makri. Usually when they've just seen her walk by in the tavern wearing her chainmail bikini. General Hemistos is full of questions, and even when we encounter Baron Girimos and Harbour Sorcerer Kublinos, he doesn't stop. We meet a few more Barons, all heading to the Queen's Bathing house to pick up their wives before heading to the tournament. Normally I'd be shunned by such a company but such is their interest in Makri that for once I'm a welcome guest.

"She usually favours a twin sword technique, I believe?" says the General. "Will she be able to cope with a sword and a shield?"

"She should," I reply. "Makri can use any sort of weapon."

While it's gratifying not to be shunned, I'm not actually all that pleased about Makri's sudden rise to prominence. I'd rather she remained an outsider. If these Barons start favouring her, her odds will plummet. It was a mistake for her to appear in front of them all yesterday, shoving that young dragon around like it was a puppy. And of course, in her frankly-indecent man's tunic and leggings, she was exhibiting a lot more female shape than they're used to seeing. No wonder she got their attention.

"Vosanos!" calls Baron Girimos. "Just arrived in town?"

I recognise the name. Baron Vosanos, father of the girl that Demelzos's son is marrying. I observe him as he walks across the busy road to join his fellow Barons. He's an elderly man, the oldest Baron in view by some way. Slightly built, long, thinning grey hair, with a polished walking stick in his hand. Despite the warmth in the air, he's wearing a heavy cloak, with a thick fur collar, the sort of cloak that lets you know the owner has plenty of money. His daughter's a good match for Demelzos's son, according to everyone.

"I say!" says General Hemistos, loudly. All eyes follow his in the direction of the Queen's Bathing house. The marble steps leading down to the road are busy with women going in and out. All of them wealthy, and all of them perfectly attired. As is Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, who walks down the steps with her normal straight-backed elegance, robe and rainbow cloak perfectly arranged, not a hair out of place. Beside her is Makri who has not bothered to get fully dressed before leaving the building, and strolls down the stairs still pulling her tunic over her head. With a lot of flesh on display, two swords at her hip and a her still-wet hair flopping all over the place, she makes for an unusual sight.

"Good Lord!" says the elderly Baron Vosanos. "Who is that?"

"Makri,' says the Simnian Ambassador, who joined the party a little while ago. "Lisutaris's bodyguard. She's fighting in the tournament."

"Splendid figure," barks the Baron. "Haven't seen anything like that since I was out in the East."

Lisutaris seems gratified to find a large collection of Barons outside the Bathing House. She greets them politely, exchanging pleasantries.

"I think they're starting to take to me," she says, as we head towards the tournament fields.

"Where's your amour and shield?" I ask Makri.

"Right here," says Lisutaris, dangling a tiny yellow purse by it's drawstring.

"A magic pocket? Where did you get that?" Magic pockets are valuable items. You can carry around any amount of heavy items safely inside, all apparently weightless and without volume, until you take them out again.

"Kublinos lent it to me. He's lending me a carriage as well."

The qualifying round starts later this afternoon, but until the draw is made, we won't know exactly when Makri is fighting. Reaching the tournament fields with time to spare, we take a stroll through the busy tents and stalls.

"Look at that sign -
Pie eating contest. Prize - fifty gurans
." I come to a swift halt. "I could win that. Easy as bribing a senator."

"You'd be a clear favourite," agrees Makri. "Are you going to enter?"

"No, he's not," says Lisutaris.

"Why am I not?"

"How is it going to reflect on the status of the Head of the Sorcerers Guild if her Chief Adviser is found wallowing around in a pie eating contest?"

I admit she has a point, though it galls me to pass up the opportunity.

"Maybe he could enter under a false name?" suggests Makri. "Saxarth perhaps?"

Lisutaris dismisses this. "That wouldn't fool anyone."

"We could do with the fifty gurans," I point out. "We have no funds left."

"But you've bet on me, haven't you?" says Makri. "So that's guaranteed winnings."

I hope so. I still don't like Makri's over-confidence. We press on through the crowd, heading for the large marquee where the draw will be made. It takes a while to force our way through. Even Lisutaris's rainbow cloak, easily recognisable, isn't enough to make the crowd part without a struggle. I'm obliged to use my bodyweight to clear the local peasantry out the way.

"You'd think they would pay more respect to the Head of the Sorcerers Guild," I say, as I clear a path. "Not to mention me. I'm a past-champion. These stalls should be selling figurines of me."

"Maybe there should be a large statue," says Makri.