Thraxas - The Complete Series (130 page)

“I need a new place to live,” says Makri to Hanama. “It’s hell in the Avenging Axe with Thraxas rolling around drunk all the time. It’s putting me off my food.”

The hedge in front of us once more erupts in flame. I get ready to fight, but rather than Ramius it’s Lisutaris who appears, with her water pipe in one hand and Princess Direeva leaning on her shoulder.

“I still don’t believe that Copro is Covinius,” says the Sorcerer.

“Copro?” exclaims Hanama. “Copro the beautician is Covinius?”

“According to Thraxas,” says Makri. “But you know how trustworthy he is.”

Makri asks Direeva if it could have been Copro who shot her but as the Princess did not see her assailant’s face, she can’t say for sure.

“The bolt caught me unawares. My protection charm deflected it enough to save my life.”

“If he’s the Assassin, why didn’t he try and kill me when he was doing my hair?” asks Lisutaris.

“Maybe professional ethics forbade it. And we should discuss this later. Right now we have to get out of here. Ramius is unconscious and I have the answer, so if we can get back to Charius, you win the test.”

Seeing the sense in this, Lisutaris starts burning away the huge hedge that surrounds us and we make progress back towards the clearing. The snow has now stopped but the ground is frozen, and we slip and slide as we go. High in the sky the sun has gone blue and shrunk to a fraction of its normal size, as if mocking us.

By this time Direeva is looking less than healthy. Blood is still seeping from her shoulder. I ask her if she has enough power left to get us discreetly home without alerting Charius. She thinks so.

“It’s the clearing,” cries Makri.

“It’s Ramius,” cries Lisutaris.

He’s dead. The Simnian Sorcerer is lying in the clearing with a great gash in his neck.

I turn to Lisutaris and demand to know if she killed him. She denies it. I shake my head. Just like she didn’t kill Darius.

“It would have made my job a lot simpler if they’d told me you were going to butcher all your opponents. I’d have planned accordingly.”

“I have not killed anyone,” insists the Mistress of the Sky. “Although this is going to be hard to explain to the Sorcerers Guild. They get suspicious if someone dies in the final test.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “If things look bad for you, I’ll just tell them you were too stoned to walk, let alone kill Ramius.”

“Is that a criticism?”

“You’re damned right it’s a criticism. When this is over I never want to see you and your water pipe again. And that includes Makri, Hanama and Direeva.”

I’m still annoyed that no one believes me about Copro. To hell with them all.

“I don’t understand this,” says Makri. “I thought it was Ramius that hired the Assassin?”

“It was,” asserts Lisutaris.

“So why did he kill Ramius?”

“We don’t know an Assassin killed Ramius,” I point out, and incline my head towards Lisutaris.

Direeva starts preparing our exit. Lisutaris glares at me.

“You have to tell me the answer to the final test now,” she says, stiffly.

“Of course. Yet another thing I’ve sorted out for you.”

“So what is it?”

I open my mouth, then close it again. I’ve forgotten. The excitement has driven the answer out of my head. I stare at Lisutaris helplessly.

Makri guffaws with laughter.

“He’s forgotten it. Ha ha ha! The big Investigator forgot the answer. Thraxas, you’re as much use as a one-legged gladiator. The talking pig was smarter than you.”

Makri turns to Lisutaris.

“Fortunately I worked out the solution. In my head. Using my mathematical skills. I didn’t have to cheat like Thraxas, going to see Samanatius. I worked it out myself. I’m far smarter than he is. I worked it out by—”

“Perhaps you could tell me now?” suggests Lisutaris. “I think Princess Direeva is about to faint.”

“It’s 1073.”

With the last of her strength Direeva creates a portal for us to leave the magic space while Lisutaris makes a door of her own to take her back to the Assemblage. We take a last look at the body of Sunstorm Ramius, then depart.

“I still don’t believe Copro is Covinius,“ says Hanama, as we materialise back in Cicerius’s private room.

Cicerius is startled to see us arriving looking like we’ve been in a battle.

“Princess Direeva needs a doctor, and quick. We found the answer. Lisutaris will win the final test.”

“Excellent,” says Cicerius, meanwhile sending Hansius off for medical aid.

“Ramius is dead. His throat was cut.”

“That is not good.”

No one else was meant to be in the magic space, which leaves Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, as the only suspect.

“Tell me the details,” says Tilupasis, who’s already thinking of the best way to deal with the situation.

M
y second meeting with Turai’s leading officials is even more uncomfortable than the first.

“In brief, the situation is as follows,” says Consul Kalius. “Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, has won the final test and is now due to be confirmed as head of the Sorcerers Guild. Unfortunately she remains the main suspect for the murder of Darius Cloud Walker. Additionally, Sunstorm Ramius, one of the best-known Sorcerers in the west, was killed during the test. Although you report that various other people had infiltrated the magic space, as far as the Sorcerers Guild is concerned there were only two people there—Ramius and Lisutaris. Naturally Lisutaris is now suspected of this murder.”

Kalius is worried. As Consul, he has a gold rim running round his toga. It’s the only gold-rimmed toga in the whole city state and he doesn’t want to lose it.

“So what are we going to do about this?”

“Deflect criticism from Lisutaris,” replies Tilupasis promptly. “There is no certainty that Ramius was murdered. People can die of natural causes in the magic space.”

“His throat was slit,” points out Kalius. “It doesn’t look natural. No one is going to believe he was attacked by a rogue unicorn. Who did kill him?”

“We believe that the Simnian Assassin Covinius may be involved,” answers Tilupasis. “I’ve already put this out as a rumour.”

“Why would a Simnian Assassin kill the Simnian Sorcerer?”

“Internal politics?” suggests Cicerius, hopefully. “Whatever the reason, we must certainly spread the story that Covinius killed Ramius.”

Everyone agrees it’s very unfortunate that Covinius chose this moment to attack Sunstorm Ramius. Had he but killed him earlier in the week at the Assemblage, it would not have looked so bad for Turai. With plenty of foreign Sorcerers around we could have blamed anyone. Personally, I don’t know what to think. Since learning that Simnia had hired an Assassin I’ve been working on the assumption that he was here to kill Lisutaris. Which doesn’t seem to fit the facts, with Ramius being the victim. Unless Lisutaris really did kill Ramius, and the Assassin felt unable to attack her in the magic space because of the presence of Direeva and Makri. Is Copro Covinius? I’m no longer sure, though he can’t have been up to any good wandering around in the magic space with a crossbow. It has to have been him who shot Direeva.

I’d like to ask Hanama what she got up to after we parted, but Hanama has disappeared. Disappearing is a speciality of hers.

“How long do we have to sort this out?” asks Praetor Samilius.

“Six hours,” replies Tilupasis. “Lisutaris is due to be confirmed as Chief Sorcerer this evening, but before that happens, Charius the Wise will denounce her as the killer. I have bought us a little time but nothing I can do will prevent him from speaking out at the confirmation.”

“Could we … er … get to Charius?” suggests Samilius.

“No. He has resisted all our efforts and is now safely in the company of Lasat, Axe of Gold, and all the most powerful Sorcerers in the Guild.”

Kalius asks Samilius if the Civil Guard have come up with anything useful. They haven’t. All eyes turn to me.

“I have some leads. I’ll get on to it.”

Not wishing to expose myself to further ridicule, I’m not planning on denouncing Copro till I have some proof against him.

“You have six hours.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Though Turai’s leading politicians aren’t about to include me in their discussions of state policy, I’m well aware that there is more riding on this now than Lisutaris’s welfare. The city state of Turai is small. We have a lot of gold which other nations crave. If Simnia is looking for an excuse to make war on us, the murder of their Chief Sorcerer isn’t a bad one. If the Abelasians decide to join them because of Darius, you don’t have to be sharp as an Elf’s ear to realise that Turai isn’t going to be the safest place for a man to live.

So far all my efforts have come to nothing. Maybe I should have been more determined in questioning the Sorcerers. I might have been if I hadn’t been forced to spend time pumping the Juvalians for dirt about Lasat, Axe of Gold. Old Hasius the Brilliant again scans the city, but with so little to go on, even the efforts of such a formidable Sorcerer are futile. I ask him once more if he’s had any further thoughts on the matter of a spell for remaking reality.

“There is no such spell,” he repeats.

I’m really sick of hearing that.

Lisutaris is resting at her villa, waiting either to be confirmed as head of the Sorcerers Guild or arraigned as a murderer. Also there is Princess Direeva, recovering from her wound. Makri is with them, or so I thought. I’m surprised when she arrives at the Assemblage just as I’m leaving. I stare at her suspiciously. Last time I called her a pointy-eared Orc freak she attacked me with her axe.

“I’ve come to help,” she says. “Providing you give me a fulsome apology.”

“You think I need your help?”

“You always need my help.”

I apologise. It’ll only make life hell at the Avenging Axe if I don’t.

“Any insult was purely accidental. Your pointed ears are just one of your numerous excellent features. Many people speak highly of them. Now why are you really here?”

“Lisutaris wanted me to make sure you didn’t kill Copro. She thinks my duties as bodyguard should extend to protecting her favourite hairdresser.”

Cicerius provides us with an official carriage and we set off to visit Copro at his home in Thamlin. I tell Makri that no matter what Lisutaris thinks, Copro is up to something.

“I saw him in the magic space.”

Makri nods. She knows me well enough to realise I don’t suffer from hallucinations.

“It wouldn’t really surprise me if there was more to him than he’s saying. He was amazingly skilful with his scissors. And for a beautician, he did have a surprising grasp of world politics.”

Makri wonders why Covinius, whoever he actually is, suddenly ended up killing Sunstorm Ramius instead of Lisutaris.

“I’m wondering that myself. Damned unreasonable, seeing as we’ve spent the week protecting Lisutaris. If he’d just got in touch beforehand and said he was here to assassinate Ramius it would have been simpler all round.”

“Is it a crime you have to solve?”

“Definitely not. The Simnians can look after their own Sorcerers. All I have to do is show that Lisutaris didn’t do it.”

Copro lives in an impressive villa. Not quite as large as those belonging to our wealthy Senators, but big enough. Few tradespeople of any sort live in Thamlin. The average working Turanian dwells in far more humble surroundings, and even those whose skill or good fortune have made them rich—some of our goldsmiths, for instance—wouldn’t really be welcome here. But Copro seems to have attracted a higher status to himself. The grounds at the front of his house, now covered in snow, are in summer a marvel of exuberant good taste, with plants, trees and bushes arranged in glorious harmony according to his own design. As with hair, make-up and dress, Copro’s gardens have had a profound effect on the fashions of the city.

Inside the gate I trample on a frozen bush so it breaks.

“You don’t like the man, do you?” says Makri.

“I don’t. Where was he when I was defending the city against the Orcs? Sitting comfortably in the Palace. Now he lives in a villa and I’ve got two rooms above the Avenging Axe.”

“You really should address your self-loathing some time,” says Makri, brightly. I scowl at her, and march up the long path.

Copro isn’t in. A servant tells me so at the door, and after I bundle her out the way and search the house, it seems to be true. Other servants run around threatening to call the Civil Guard. I grab one of them and demand to know where Copro is. He claims not to know. I slap him. He falls down but when I drag him up he still doesn’t know.

“I don’t have time for this. Tell me where he is or I’ll throw you downstairs.”

The servant starts wailing. I drag him to the top of the stairs, then halt, and let him go.

“I smell sorcery.”

Makri looks interested.

“What sort?”

“Not sure. But I can always sense it. Someone has worked a spell in this house, not long ago.”

We start hunting again, straining to find the source of the magic. Finally I stop in front of a bookcase. I drag it out of the way. Behind it the wall looks much as it should do. I put my shoulder to it and it creaks. I throw my full weight at it and the wall gives way. It’s thin wood, a panel hiding a secret room. Inside are books, charts, phials, an astrolabe and various other things normally to be found only in the workroom of a Sorcerer. At the back of the room is a particularly ugly statue of some sort of demon with four arms.