Thraxas and the Oracle (18 page)

“No. He hasn’t been around. Lisutaris asked me to leave for a while.”

“Another top-secret commanders' meeting?”

Makri frowns. “She says she’s meeting Legate Apiroi. I don’t like it.”

“Why would she meet him?”

“I don’t know. Yesterday she wanted him kept out the way and today they’re having a private conference. It can’t mean anything good. Legate Apiroi is only interested in one thing, increasing his influence. I think he’s trying to usurp Bishop-General Ritari. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s got ambitions to be War Leader.” Makri takes the bottle of wine from me and drinks. “I don’t like it. Lisutaris should just get rid of him.”

“She has to be tactful. Relations with Nioj are always tricky.”

Makri notices the scroll in my hand. “What are you reading?”

“My list of every possible suspect.”

“Is it helping?”

“No, it’s useless. There must be forty or fifty people who’ve had enough contact with Lisutaris to be doing this damage. My unit has run background checks on all of them. Irith Victorious has checked them with sorcery. No results. If Deeziz is so clever maybe it doesn’t matter what sort of checks we make. Perhaps she can just fake anything. Maybe she can plant false memories in people.”

“Is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything this Orc can’t do. She must have done a lot of studying on that mountain top. Maybe Lisutaris did go to too many parties.”

I take another sip from the wine bottle. “I always knew our degenerate aristocracy would ruin Turai. Lisutaris and Tirini spend their whole time dancing and gossiping at Palace soirees while Deeziz does what a sorcerer is meant to do - learn more sorcery. And now look what’s happened. Tirini’s half-dead, Lisutaris has gone mad, and an honest man like myself has his name dragged through the mud by malicious prophesies from a corrupt High Priestess. I tell you Makri, the situation is bad. We can’t even find the Orcish army. So much for Hanama and her Intelligence Unit. We’ve got a Sorcerous Weather Unit that can’t stop storms, and a Sorcerous investigation Unit that couldn’t find an Orc if she walked up and introduced herself.”

“In other words, everyone else is to blame?” says Makri.

“Exactly. Useless, degenerate incompetents, all of them.”

“How much wine have you drunk?”

“Not enough. I can’t believe Lisutaris said I was as much use as a one-legged gladiator. That’s not the sort of crude expression you expect to hear from your War Leader.”

“I didn’t like being blamed for Ibella’s death. But Lisutaris is under a lot of pressure. She’s worried she’s not going to be able to hold the army together.”

“All the more reason to value her trusted companions. I rescued that woman from Turai!”

“Are you ever going to stop bragging about that?” Makri drinks from the bottle.

“I blame the oracle.”

“The oracle?”

“We’ve been cursed since we visited that place. I hate oracles. They’re always useless. Some mumbo-jumbo that no one can understand. You never find an oracle saying anything worthwhile like
'Tomorrow someone will buy you a flagon of ale and a mutton pie.'
That would be an oracle worth having.”

“It’s interesting how powerful a grip oracles still have on people’s imaginations,” says Makri. “People are fools. Oracles are nonsense.”

Makri shrugs. “I know. Though it’s odd how accurate some of the High Priestess’s predictions were. Ibella died of poison right after she was warned to fear only poison.”

“That’s only one prophesy. Anyone can get lucky. I still think her words to Hanama were ridiculous.
Much Death.
Hanama’s an assassin, it didn’t take tremendous insight to come up with that.”

“Did the High Priestess know she was an assassin?”

“Probably. It wouldn’t surprise me if her followers sneaked her some hints about the people who visit her. Charlatans, all of them. As for Gurd, and
Much Life
- ” I pause. “Now I think about it, Gurd told me Tanrose wants to have a baby. I suppose that might qualify as
much life.”

Makri is amused. “Maybe the High Priestess knew what she was talking about.”

I refuse to rise to the bait. I know Makri has no more belief in oracles than me.

“Why did Gurd tell you Tanrose wanted to have a baby?”

“Because he knows I’m one of the few sensible men left in the West, and he wanted advice.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Mainly that I didn’t want to talk about babies.”

“He’d be a good father,” says Makri.

“He would be. But he’s worried he won’t be alive long enough to see the child. That’s a sensible worry. If this campaign continues to go downhill none of us will be around for long.”

We’re still trundling slowly over the low hills on the approach to the border between Simnia and Nioj. We’ll be meeting up with the Niojan army any time now. I wonder what sort of reports Legate Apiroi and Bishop-General Ritari have been sending them.

“I found out something odd about Tirini Snake Smiter,” I tell Makri, lowering my voice so that Anumaris won’t overhear. “She doesn’t come from the respectable family she claims. I don’t think she came from Turai’s upper class at all. Her father was a sewer inspector. If he’s the man I used to know, he was about as low class as me, which is very low, in Turanian terms.”

“Why would Tirini lie about that?”

“You lived in Turai long enough to know what it’s like. Class makes a lot of difference. The upper classes are obsessed with status and they don’t like sharing their privileges.”

Makri, as a foreign female gladiator with Orcish blood, had the lowest status it was possible to have in Turai, so she knows what I’m talking about. Even so, she’s puzzled about Tirini.

“Sorcerers don’t have to come from the aristocracy, do they?”

“Most sorcerers are the sons and daughters of respectable families. Not the highest aristocracy, but respectable. There are a few from the lower classes but they don’t get far in the Sorcerers Guild. Not promoted to the best posts. I suppose Tirini didn’t want to admit her background, particularly as she was so obsessed with being Turai’s most glamorous woman. I can understand that. But I’m puzzled.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t have thought it was easy for her to hide her background from other sorcerers. Not when she started out, anyway. When she first went to the Sorcerers College, she couldn’t have had that much power. The professors there should have seen through any attempt at deception. They do look into their students' background as part of the induction process.”

Makri takes a small bag from a pocket inside her armoured tunic.

“Lisutaris gave me this.”

“So she hasn’t stopped using it?”

“She’s cut down a lot. Quite a lot. Well, she doesn’t smoke as much as she used to.” Makri rolls up the thazis into a stick and lights it. She inhales then passes it to me. We smoke it peacefully together for a few minutes.

“What’s wrong with being a sewer inspector anyway?” asks Makri.

“Pardon?”

“You said Tirini was ashamed of her father being a sewer inspector. I don’t see why anyone would be ashamed of working on the sewers. Haven’t you used them during your investigations?”

“Once or twice.”

“And we escaped from the city via the sewers. You might say they saved Lisutaris’s life. Anyway, they’re a good piece of architecture.”

“They are?”

“Of course. Turai’s sewerage system is one of the best there is, in any city. It was all designed by the Master Architect Janavius.”

“How do you know that?”

“I learned in college. If it wasn’t for the innovations made by Janavius, Turai would be the festering mess it deserves to be. He built eight new tunnels under the city, incorporating three ancient streams into the system, and he was responsible for - ”

I hold up my hand. “Makri, does it ever worry you that you seem able to deliver a lecture on any conceivable subject?”

“No.”

“It worries me.”

“I think you just resent that women can get a good education at the Guild College.”

“I only resent it when they’re lecturing me about it.” I inhale from the thazis stick and pass it back to Makri. “I’ll take your word that our sewers are a marvel of architecture. It might take a while to convince the rest of the population. I can see why Tirini tried to keep it quiet.”

“I suppose so. Though Janavius really deserves more credit for his work. Did you know he was responsible for adding volcanic ash to concrete, which means it can set underwater? He discovered this by - ”

I sigh, and try to block of Makri’s lecture on Turai’s marvel of underground architecture. Once she gets going on this sort of thing, she can be hard to stop. It’s almost a relief when Anumaris Thunderbolt pokes her head through the canvas flap with an angry expression on her face.

“I thought I smelled thazis! You shouldn’t be smoking that.”

“Why not?”

“You shouldn’t be intoxicated when you’re on duty.”

“We’re off duty.”

“No you are not. What if some crisis happens?”

“Then you can deal with it.”

I pass the thazis stick back to Makri. “I thought you were bad, lecturing me about drinking all the time. Anumaris here is ten times worse.”

“I’m just doing my duty!” protests the young sorcerer. “We’re on our way to war. We should be alert at all times. Something could happen.”

“Just drive the wagon, Anumaris. Nothing is going to happen.”

At that moment, Lisutaris, War Leader, Commander of the western armies, appears at the rear of the wagon. She climbs in, quite nimbly.

“I told you something might happen,” says Anumaris.

Chapter Seventeen

I notice our Commander glancing at the thazis stick in Makri’s hand and the bottle of wine in mine. “We were just discussing my investigation.”

Lisutaris frowns. “Have you ever gone through a day without a bottle or flagon in your hand?”

“Eight days at sea, without beer, in a leaky boat, Commander. After I rescued you from Turai.”

Lisutaris smiles, which is a surprise, given her recent hostility. “I should probably be grateful it’s your only vice,” she says. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a bag of thazis, rolling herself a stick with dexterity born of long practice.

“I don’t think you can say that drinking is Thraxas’s only vice,” says Makri. “You’d have to mention gluttony as well. And gambling. He really has a problem with gambling.”

“I’ve come to talk to you about something important - ” begins Lisutaris.

“Then there’s the bad language. And what about his laziness? Sometimes you just can’t move him, no matter what.

“You forgot my tendency to violence,” I growl.

“You see? Drinking, gambling, violence, It’s just one thing after another. I really don’t see how you can say that drinking is Thraxas’s only vice. It’s just not an accurate description of the man.”

Lisutaris purses her lips. “I believe you’ve made your point, Ensign Makri. If I might be allowed to speak?”

“Of course, Commander.”

Lisutaris nudges Droo awake with her toe. “Junior Ensign Sendroo, go outside, get Anumaris, and make sure no one listens to my conversation in here.”

The young Elf nods, and departs swiftly. Lisutaris waves her hand briefly and mutters a spell.

“What was that?”

“To prevent anyone listening in. We can’t be too careful.” The Sorceress inhales deeply from her thazis stick. “I’ve just been in discussion with Legate Apiroi. I’d rather not have been, but he sent me a message I couldn’t ignore. Apparently the Legate has learned I went to the oracle.”

“How?”

“He wouldn’t say. I presume Deeziz was behind it. She seems to have a talent for sending anonymous messages and sowing discord. Apiroi thinks he has me in a tough spot. He’s threatened to tell King Lamachus about my visit unless I promote him to my command council.”

“That’s outrageous!” cries Makri. “He can’t blackmail you! You’re War Leader.”

“Apiroi seems capable of anything. He’s one of the most ambitious reptiles I’ve ever encountered. He’s determined to take over as leader of the Niojan faction, and if he’s after my position as well, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Lisutaris pauses to inhale from her thazis stick. “All in all, it was a difficult meeting.”

“What are you going to do?” asks Makri.

“I told him I’d consider his proposal.”

“How long will that hold him off for?”

“Long enough for me to deal with the situation.”

“How are you planning to deal with it?” I enquire.

Lisutaris exhales a stream of thazis smoke. “That’s not something I can tell you. But I will deal with it.”

I notice that the sorceress seems relatively composed, given the possible gravity of her position. I wonder what she means when she says she’ll deal with it.

“However that’s not really why I’m here,” says Lisutaris. “I’ve come to tell you that I have to leave camp again, in secret. Tonight.”

“The Niojans are arriving tonight.”

Lisutaris nods. “That makes it awkward. I should be here to greet their leaders. Nonetheless, I have to make an excursion.”

“Why?”

“The High Priestess of Vitina is bringing me my Oracle.”

“What?” I almost explode. “That’s insane. You’ve just told us that Legate Apiroi is trying to blackmail you about your last visit. Now you want to see the High Priestess again?”

“It is unfortunate timing. That’s why I’m keeping it secret. No one will know apart from you and Makri. Neither of you are Deeziz. After eight days on a boat together, I know you too well. I never thought I’d be grateful for that.”

Makri is agitated. “Lisutaris, “ she begins, forgetting to call her Commander, as she normally would. “I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s far too dangerous. Last time Deeziz ambushed us. It could happen again.”

“What if we run into the whole Orcish Army? We don’t even know where they are.”

“The fact that we can’t locate the Orcish army is a good reason for going. I’m hoping the High Priestess might have some news for me. She sent me a message that my Oracle is ready, and I need to have it.”