Thraxas - The Complete Series (119 page)

The landlord makes the unforgivable mistake of laying his hand on her shoulder to lead her out. Makri immediately lands him such a fearsome kick in the groin that the students at the far end of the tavern shrink back in terror. The landlord collapses to the floor. Makri grabs a table and hurls it on top of him. She glares down at his prostrate body.

“I will be taking this matter up with the Association of Gentlewomen,” she says.

Outside the snow is falling faster and heavier.

“Can you believe that?” yells Makri, over the howling wind.

We struggle down the street till we reach another tavern, The Diligent Apprentice. Makri marches in. I follow with my hand on the hilt of my sword, ready for trouble. A friendly-looking landlady greets us as we enter. Makri seems almost disappointed.

“Are you going to complain about me hitting the landlord?” she demands, as we sit down with two beers and two glasses of klee.

“No. I didn’t like the tavern much anyway.”

A year ago I’d have objected plenty. Now, I’m more sympathetic. Or maybe I’m just used to it.

“Did they really not serve women? Or just women with Orcish blood?”

“I don’t know. Probably both. It wasn’t much of a place. Their haunch of beef was adequate at best. I think I’ll pick up another meal while I’m here.”

Makri grins.

“I always get depressed when life is too peaceful. All those years being a gladiator, I suppose. I need to fight every now and then, and it’s been a long time since I was in a fight.”

I point out to her that only a few days ago she killed a dwa dealer.

“Right. I forgot about that. Well, it wasn’t really what you’d call a fight.”

“And soon after that you got in a brawl with those three dock workers.”

“What are you doing, keeping records?”

“How are you ever going to manage if you get to the Imperial University? They frown on violence.”

“I can probably wean myself off it.”

Makri drinks heartily of her ale.

“Don’t get too cheerful, Makri, we’re still in a hell of a situation. The Sorcerers Guild could be looking at pictures of our involvement in a murder right now.”

Makri slaps the table.

“I almost forgot. I found a spell!”

“You did?”

Makri brings out a sheet of paper and reads from it.

“ ‘A spell for wiping out events in the past. With this incantation an experienced practitioner can erase all traces of events, so that they can never be seen, even by sorcerous enquiry.’ ”

Makri looks up from her notes.

“You wouldn’t believe the obscure place I found this in. I swear no one else could have located it. It wasn’t in the main sorcery collection, it was hidden away in—”

“Yes, Makri, I already know you’re number one chariot in the library. Let me see the spell.”

I study Makri’s copy. It’s very interesting, a spell the like of which I’ve never encountered. It claims that if worked properly it can erase almost a full hour.

“I’m certain no one in Turai has ever worked this. Where did it originate?”

“Developed in the Wastelands, according to the catalogue. The Southern Hills.”

I raise my eyebrows. Princess Direeva lives in the Southern Hills.

“We might be on to something. But this doesn’t account for everything. It might work for erasing events but it’s not a spell for creating new ones.”

“I’m sure it’s relevant,” says Makri. “You know how when things happen during an investigation and it seems like a coincidence, you generally get suspicious? Well, take a look at the ingredients for the spell.”

She hands over another sheet of paper. The spell requires a healthy dose of dragon scales.

“And only recently you were hunting for a dragon-scale thief.”

It is a coincidence. And Makri’s correct. In my line of work, coincidences always make me suspicious.

T
he landus driver doesn’t want to take us to Twelve Seas. These uptown drivers hate to go south of the river.

“I’m a Tribune of the People.”

“Never heard of you.”

It takes a lot of argument to persuade him. I’m deep in thought as we travel down Moon and Stars Boulevard. I want to follow up the dragon scales, which means I have to talk to Rezox. As I just put him in prison he isn’t going to be keen to talk to me. Not in a friendly manner anyhow. Some abuse, possibly. I tell the landus to stop, and then hurry into a small way-station which acts as a forwarding post for the Messengers Guild where I quickly scribble a message to the Deputy Consul.

We travel on our way. The driver complains about the cold. Makri complains about the cold. She ought to put on a little weight.

“If you weren’t so scrawny you wouldn’t feel it so much.”

“Princess Direeva said I had a perfect figure.”

“I bet she did. Keep working your charms, you’ll get her votes.”

“I don’t want to charm anyone into voting for Lisutaris,” says Makri. “The whole thing is corrupt and I don’t approve.” She shivers. “Are you claiming you don’t feel the cold?”

I scoff at the suggestion.

“You call this cold? It doesn’t compare to the conditions I experienced up in Nioj. I’ve camped out for a month in weather worse than this.”

“You’re a liar,” says Makri, still quite cheerful after her fight.

There is great confusion at the corner of Quintessence Street where the aqueduct has collapsed. Workmen are still struggling to clear the area but there seems to be some other sort of activity going on. A gaggle of citizens are arguing furiously and Civil Guards are arriving on the scene. I urge the driver to edge his way past but Makri calls for him to halt.

“What’s happening here? These men are standing in front of Samanatius’s academy.”

Samanatius’s so-called academy is a miserable hall surrounded by equally miserable slums. Makri insists that she’s going to take a look.

“Fine, you can walk the rest of the way.”

Makri departs and the landus driver manoeuvres his way into Quintessence Street and along to the Avenging Axe. Inside the tavern I fill up with food and beer and enquire of Gurd if anyone has been here asking questions. No one has, which means that Lisutaris’s hiding spell is working for now. I’d like to spend a few hours in front of the fire but I can’t stay for long, though I refuse to leave the tavern till I’ve recharged my magic warm cloak. I can’t stand more outdoor work without some protection, no matter how much I brag to Makri about the weather not affecting me.

In my office I find Casax waiting, along with Orius Fire Tamer. Casax is head of the local chapter of the Brotherhood. A very important man in Twelve Seas. All crime is controlled by the Brotherhood. Since Casax took over, crime has been doing very well. Orius Fire Tamer is a young and recently qualified Sorcerer who seems to have hooked up with the Brotherhood.

“Don’t you know how to knock and wait politely?” I demand.

“Never learned that,” answers Casax.

He’s wrapped in an enormous fur. He doesn’t look cold. I notice he’s grown his hair a little longer, and tied it at the back. Casax has a fair complexion, but he’s weatherbeaten, a man who started out at the docks a long time ago and worked his way up. A calm, strong, intelligent man, and very dangerous.

“Having a good time at the Assemblage?”

“The time of my life.”

“Orius tells me you’ve been enjoying yourself,” says Casax.

I’m uncomfortable. A Brotherhood boss doesn’t pay social visits for no reason.

“You’ve been enjoying yourself a lot recently. Rolling around with Lisutaris and Princess Direeva, from what I hear.”

“You’ve been hearing things that are none of your business.”

Casax raises his eyebrows a fraction. Last year I found myself more or less on the same side as Casax in a case involving the chariot races. A fortunate occurrence, and since then the Brotherhood have left me alone. It doesn’t mean much. The Brotherhood are never well disposed towards Investigators.

He leans forward.

“You know anything about the death of a dwa dealer?”

“Which one? They die a lot.”

“Orius here thought he might be able to pick up a little Orcish aura round the death scene.”

I glance at the Sorcerer, then back to Casax.

“So?”

“Your young companion is part Orc. And handy with a sword.”

“Plenty of people are handy with a sword in Twelve Seas. And she’s not the only girl in town with Orc blood.”

Casax glances round the room.

“Is this it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean is this all you have? Tiny rooms full of junk? Furniture fit for a slum?”

“It suits me fine.”

“You don’t have something salted away? Gold in the bank?”

I look at him blankly.

“Why do you do it?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Investigate.”

“I got thrown out of my last job for being a useless drunk.”

“You could still do better for yourself. Rezox would have paid you to let him go. So would plenty of others. You could live a lot better.”

The Brotherhood boss rises to his feet.

“If you came here to give your pet Sorcerer a chance to see what he could learn, you’re going to be disappointed,” I tell him.

Orius Fire Tamer sneers at me.

“You think you have any power to affect me?”

“I think I could toss a knife in your throat before you got a spell ready, kid.”

Casax almost grins.

“He might, Orius. He’s a tough guy, Thraxas. Not so tough that he’d bother me, but tough enough. When he’s sober.”

He turns to me.

“If your Orc friend killed my dealer I’ll be down on her like a bad spell. Not that I miss the dealer. But I’ve got a position to maintain. You understand.”

They depart. I open my klee. The bottle is almost finished. I make a mental note to buy more. Makri appears.

“Was it about the dealer?”

“So they said. But I think Casax was more interested in what Lisutaris and Direeva were doing here. He won’t learn anything from Orius. That runt isn’t going to get through a hiding spell cast by Lisutaris. What’s the kid think he’s doing, linking up with the Brotherhood? When I was his age—”

“Thraxas,” says Makri, loudly. “Be quiet. I have something important to tell you.”

“If this is about See-ath, I don’t—”

“It’s not about See-ath. It’s about Samanatius. They’re trying to evict him.”

“What?”

“The landlord wants to demolish the block. He’s using the collapse of the aqueduct as an excuse. He’s been trying to get rid of Samanatius and the other tenants for months now, he wants to make money on the land.”

I’m staring at Makri in bewilderment. I can’t think why she’s telling me this. It almost sounds like she expects me to do something about it.

“You have to do something about it.”

I finish off my klee.

“Me? What? Why?”

“The owner got the go-ahead from Prefect Drinius, but it’s illegal to demolish the block without permission from the Consul’s office.”

I shrug.

“Happens all the time. If the local Prefect says its okay, the owner’s not going to wait for the Consul to screw things up. Just mean another bribe to pay.”

“They can’t evict Samanatius! He’s a great man.”

I don’t care one way or the other about Samanatius.

“You have to stop it.”

“Makri, what gives you this bizarre idea that I could do anything? I’m an Investigator, not a planning inspector.”

“You’re a Tribune of the People. You can halt any building work by referring it to the Senate for adjudication.”

My head swims.

“What?”

“It’s part of the power invested in the Tribunes. They could do lots of things to protect the poor. Stopping landlords from demolishing buildings was one of them.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m not. I looked it up in the library.”

“That was a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Their powers were never rescinded.”

“But I’m not a real Tribune. It’s only a device to get me into the Assemblage.”

“It doesn’t matter,” declares Makri firmly. “Cicerius made you a Tribune and it’s legal. You now have the full power of the Tribunate behind you and you have to do something.”

I grab for the klee. It’s empty. There must be a beer round here somewhere.

“Makri, this is insane. I’m sorry your buddy’s getting evicted but I can’t stop it. What the hell is Cicerius going to say if I suddenly start using my supposed power to order the local Prefect around? The Senate would go crazy. So would the Palace, probably. I’d have the whole government on my back. Who is the landlord anyway?”

“Praetor Capatius.”

“Capatius? The richest man in Turai? Controls about forty seats in the Senate? Sure, Makri, I’ll take him on any time. Easy as bribing a Senator. I’ll just tell him to please stop behaving badly. Be reasonable.”

“You can do it,” insists Makri. “It’s part of your power.”

“I don’t have any power,” I roar, frustrated by her insistence. “And have you forgotten what else is going on right now? I’m in the middle of a case that’s quite probably going to end up with me rowing a slave galley and Lisutaris dangling on a rope. I’ve got Sorcerers, the Deputy Consul, and an election to worry about, not to mention Covinius, deadly Assassin, in case you’ve forgotten. And you expect me to march up to Prefect Drinius and say, ‘Excuse me, you have to stop this eviction because I’m a Tribune of the People’?”