Thraxas - The Complete Series (180 page)

Lisutaris is looking confused.

“What is this?” she demands.

“I’m apologising.”

“It doesn’t sound like it.”

“Well, how much apologising does a man have to do when he finds his office filled up with a bunch of harpies intent on persecuting the hard-working men of Turai? Goddammit, who told you you could cram my office full of murderous Assassins, half-witted barmaids and parasitic Senators’ wives? What the hell have Senators’ wives got to complain about anyway? They’re all raking in a lot more money than me and no doubt cavorting with professional athletes while their husbands are busy at the Senate. I tell you, it’s this sort of behaviour that’s dragged this city into the dust. When I was a young man the Consul would’ve exiled the lot of you.”

I take another drink from my bottle of klee. Lisutaris raises one eyebrow.

“Is this still part of the apology?”

“So you expect me to apologise? Is that why you dragged me here? I’m not the one who should be apologising. What have you got to say for yourself, that’s what I want to know.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Possibly. No doubt when the Association of Gentlewomen takes over the city your first action will be to close down the taverns. Admit it, you’re nothing but a bunch of hypocrites. Continually criticising me—”

“We’ve never mentioned you,” interrupts Lisutaris.

I wave her quiet.

“Continually criticising me for a modest intake of ale when the whole world knows the Association of Gentlewomen is no more than a front for some of the wildest, most degenerate drinking ever seen in the city. Since Makri fell in with you she’s rarely been sober. And what about your abuse of thazis? I don’t see any mention of that at your meetings. No, just prolonged criticism of Investigators, honest landlords and the hard-working masses. You’re all so bitter you can’t stand to see a man enjoying a quiet tankard of ale. And who was it helped you get elected as head of the Sorcerers Guild anyway? I’ll tell you who, it was me. Just like it was me who saved your sorry hide when you lost the green jewel last summer. That wouldn’t have looked so good if the Consul had got to know about it. I chased all over the city looking for that gem, and how do you repay me? By barging into my offices uninvited and fouling up the place with incense and a new rug. I tell you—”

I break off. I might be mistaken, but it seems to me that there’s a tear rolling from the corner of Lisutaris’s eye. Immediately I’m uncomfortable. I hate it when anyone cries, always have. I never know what to say. Have I been too harsh? I remember that I’d planned to apologise to Lisutaris, not lambaste her. It’s odd that she’d start crying. She’s not the sort of woman to crumple in the face of a little mild criticism.

“Eh… I’m sorry … maybe I spoke a little harshly. Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Lisutaris rises to her feet.

“Thraxas, you imbecile. Nothing you could say would make me shed a tear. You insufferable buffoon, how dare you force your way into my house and criticise me!”

“So who’s upset about uninvited guests now? You think it’s okay to barge into my office—”

“Will you be quiet about that!” roars the Mistress of the Sky.

“Oh fine, it’s okay for you to complain, but not—”

Lisutaris clenches her fists.

“If you continue with this I will blast you all the way to Simnia!” she yells. “I’m not concerned about your office, your rug, or even your abominable drunkenness. Today I was sacked from the War Council! Me! Lisutaris, head of the Sorcerers Guild!”

I find myself sobering up surprisingly quickly.

“What? They can’t sack you. It’s impossible.”

“They can. Prince Dees-Akan moved to suspend me. By his reckoning I am no longer a trustworthy adviser.”

Lisutaris slumps back into her chair. Another tear forms in her eye. I’m not surprised. The shame and disgrace of being thrown off the War Council would be hard for anyone to bear. When you’re the head of the Sorcerers Guild, it’s unthinkable. As the tear rolls down Lisutaris’s cheek I find myself feeling both sober and desperate.

“Do you want me to call for a servant?”

The Sorceress shakes her head. I really want someone to come and console her, because God knows, I can’t do it.

“How about your secretary? You know, the crazy niece?”

“She’s gone,” says Lisutaris. Her lip trembles. I curse under my breath. I’ve seen this woman lop an Orc’s head off with a broken sword. Why does she have to pick this moment to start crying? When I’m the only one in the room? She should know it will have a very bad effect on me.

“Tell me what happened,” I say, desperately.

“I gave them a warning. They disregarded it. Rittius and Ovinian the True mocked me. Prince Dees-Akan was of the opinion that my warnings were the result of too much thazis and informed me I was no longer welcome at the War Council.”

Any second now she’s going to weep. I’m twitching with agitation.

“It’s the most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard,” I blurt out. “You’re the greatest Sorcerer in Turai. You’re the greatest Sorcerer in the Human lands. Everyone knows that. That’s why they elected you head of the Guild.”

“I thought that was because you and Cicerius cheated for me.”

“Our cheating had nothing to do with it. You were elected because you’re the best Sorcerer, period. You’re worth more to this city than ten princes. What’s that man ever done for Turai? You were bringing down dragons and defending the walls when he was still hanging on to his tutor’s toga. He’s never even seen action. Half the War Council’s never seen action. Every person who fought in the war remembers what you did. People all over the world remember it. The Elves remember it. They made a song about it.”

“No they didn’t,” says Lisutaris.

“They’re composing it at this moment. There were some odes about trees to get finished first. You know, the tree odes can take a long time.”

Lisutaris manages to smile, and wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Well, thanks for the thought. But you did have to cheat to get me elected. Half of Turai was in on the conspiracy.”

“And a magnificent job we did too! I swear some of those foreign delegates are still rolling around drunk in brothels in Kushni. But really, you are the best Sorcerer, everybody knows it.”

Lisutaris ponders this. The risk of weeping seems to be receding. She looks at me, raising one eyebrow again.

“I’ve never heard you give out compliments before, Thraxas.”

“You haven’t? I’m generally ready to give credit where it’s due.”

“You mean you’re so terrified of seeing me cry you’re prepared to go to any lengths to prevent it.”

“That as well. Are you feeling better now? Because I’m all out of reassurance. Do you think a fine bottle of wine from your excellent cellars might help things?”

The Sorcerer almost smiles, but at the memory of the War Council her brow wrinkles again. She waves her hand and the thazis pipe by her chair lifts gently into the air. She studies it for a few moments.

“The Prince is right,” she says. “I do smoke too much thazis.”

I’m startled. Lisutaris is an unusually heavy thazis user, it’s true, but I never expected to hear her voice any concern over it.

“I couldn’t give the substance up even if I wished. It’s a flaw in my character.”

“Everyone has a flaw. How is a person meant to live in this city without developing a few flaws? People have hinted I drink too much. To hell with them, I say. About your wine cellars…?”

Lisutaris laughs. She lights her pipe and pulls on a bell rope for a servant. I ask her about the warning she gave to the War Council.

“I told them I believed it was possible that Prince Amrag had already sent an army to Yall, kingdom of Horm the Dead. Yall is not so far from Turai. I suspect that they may attack before the winter is out.”

“I can see why they found that hard to believe. But surely the other Sorcerers on the Council could check?”

“That’s the problem,” admits Lisutaris. “No other Sorcerer can detect any trace of an Orcish army in Yall. And neither can I, now. But for a second, as I scanned the east with the green jewel, I was sure that I saw them. Now, there’s no trace.”

“So when Old Hasius and his friends tried to check they found no sign of them?”

Lisutaris nods, and draws deeply on her water pipe.

“Prince Dees-Akan openly stated that I was suffering from hallucinations brought on by thazis. Maybe he’s right.”

“Is he?”

Lisutaris looks doubtful.

“I think I saw them. It’s difficult. The Orcish Sorcerers Guild is so strong these days. They’ve learned how to countermand most of our far-seeing spells. Even using the green jewel is no longer easy. I can sense some sort of spell working against it.”

The green jewel is something of a state secret in Turai, a magical artifact for far-seeing which cannot be blocked by enemy Sorcerers. Or couldn’t, up till now. Lisutaris stares into space, as if scanning the ether for sorcery.

“I don’t think the green jewel is being directly interfered with. But there’s something wrong. Something so intangible that no other Sorcerer can detect it. So vague that most times I can’t either. Just something that’s interfering with my seeing spells.”

“New blocking spells?”

She shakes her head.

“No. We can always detect Orcish blocking spells, even if we can’t work around them. This doesn’t feel like a blocking spell. It doesn’t feel like anything. I just have the feeling that something is interfering with my far-seeing magic. But there’s nothing I can demonstrate. And there’s no way the Orcs should be able to interfere with my sorcery from so far away.”

“Might they have moved some Sorcerers closer to Turai?”

Lisutaris has considered this but feels certain she’d be able to detect them if that had happened.

“But there’s something wrong, even if I can’t explain it. Unfortunately no other Sorcerer feels anything at all. Nor has any seen an Orcish army in Yall.”

This all sounds like very grim tidings. It seems strange to me that the War Council should give her warning so little credence.

“I have opponents on the Council. The Prince has never liked me. And as for Rittius, he’s been against me since the first meeting.”

“Rittius is a dog,” I say, with feeling.

“He is. But he’s head of Palace Security. He carries a lot of weight, particularly now he’s been persuaded to abandon Senator Lodius.”

“Which brings me to my reason for visiting.”

“I thought you came here to apologise?”

“I did. Also I need help.”

I give Lisutaris a brief description of my lack of progress on the Lodius case. She wonders why I’m still involved. It’s hard to give a satisfactory answer.

“I don’t like to see a murderer go unpunished. Or maybe I’m just stubborn.”

“I have already looked at the circumstances surrounding the death, at the request of the Abode of Justice,” points out Lisutaris. “We could not tell when the poison was administered.”

“Are you sure you looked properly?”

“Is that as much of an insult as I take it to be?”

“No insult intended. You’ve been busy with the war preparations. And you weren’t that fond of Galwinius.”

“I’d say that was an insult.”

“Merely a statement of fact,” I say. “After all, he refused to allow Herminis to go into exile. One of the main complaints of the Association of Gentlewomen, I understand.”

“Why don’t you just ask if we killed him?”

“Did you?”

“No. Though we’re not shedding many tears about it.”

“His family is. Strange thing about this city, Lisutaris. No one seems to mind when a man is murdered if the man was an opponent. Myself, I never see things that way”

“Spare me the lecture,” says Lisutaris, and draws on her thazis pipe.

“Galwinius was carrying a scroll before he fell. I want to know what happened to it.”

Lisutaris rises from her chair, takes a gold saucer from a table nearby, and pours a little black liquid into it. It’s kuriya, a tool for looking into the past. This is an art over which I have some control, but nothing compared to the power of Lisutaris. She waves her hand. For performing any sort of spell, no matter how difficult, the Mistress of the Sky never seems to need any preparation. All she does is wave her hand and it starts to work. A picture forms in the pool. I watch as Galwinius takes the food from Lodius. He is carrying a scroll. He falls to the ground. Lisutaris twitches her fingers and the picture alters, focusing on the floor where he falls. The scroll is partially obscured by his body. A hand reaches for it, scoops it up and tuck it inside his toga. It’s Bevarius, assistant to Consul Kalius.

The picture fades. The pool goes dark.

“Bevarius?”

I’m perturbed. I don’t know what to think.

“I wasn’t expecting any sort of involvement from the Consul’s office. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. I still don’t know what was on that scroll.”

I thank Lisutaris for her help. I remember that Makri is going to be part of Lisutaris’s bodyguard. She has served as Lisutaris’s bodyguard before, though not in such dangerous circumstances.

The Sorceress is pleased. “Casting spells in the middle of a battle, it’s hard to keep a lookout for your own safety. I’ve got a company of good men to protect me and Makri can probably fight better than any of them.”

“Probably. Though she’s never been on a battlefield.”

“She can look after herself.”

“I know. But she’ll probably die anyway.”

“We’ll all probably die,” says Lisutaris, and sounds quite serious about it. Obviously my own assessment of our prospects is not unduly pessimistic.