Thraxas - The Complete Series (190 page)

“How did you get that?”

“Though private means.”

“Threats and bribery?”

“That, and my friendship with Praetor Capatius, Vedinax’s employer. You can have this paper if you agree to my request.”

I take the paper. The accusations of cowardice have been a burden. I want them lifted.

“Okay, I’ll work your damned spell for you.”

“What’s that under your cloak?” Lisutaris asks Hanama.

“Nothing,” replies the small Assassin.

“Yes it is,” says Lisutaris. “It’s a bunch of flowers.”

“So what if it is?” says Hanama.

“Since when did you pick flowers?” demands Lisutaris.

“I didn’t pick them. They were just lying in the street.”

“Are they for me?” asks Makri, her voice sounding slurred.

“No. I just found them outside. I don’t even know why I picked them up. They’re not for anyone. Unless you want them. Do you want them, Makri? You can have them if you want.”

“Did Rittius hire your foul guild to assassinate Bevarius?” I demand.

“The Assassins Guild does not discuss its affairs in public,” replies Hanama.

By now Lisutaris is starting to construct a thazis stick of massive proportions. Not wishing my office to again be full of intoxicated members of the Association of Gentlewomen, I throw them out, banishing them to Makri’s room, where they can do what the hell they like. I drag a bottle of klee from its new hiding place, as yet undiscovered by Makri, and drink deeply.

No more accusations of cowardice. That’s good. Solved the case of Prefect Galwinius, and got paid, also good. Orcs outside the walls, not so good. City about to fall. Very bad.

Makri is half-sister of Prince Amrag. That’s too puzzling to think about right now.

Since the Orcs attacked I haven’t been sleeping well. It takes half the bottle of klee and several thazis sticks before I manage to nod off, and I’m far from refreshed when I wake the next day. I take a cold breakfast downstairs in the early light. Makri intercepts me before I leave the tavern. She stands awkwardly for a moment, then hands me a cloak.

“I brought you this. Lisutaris put a warming spell on it. It will last much longer than your own.”

“Thanks, Makri.”

Maybe I should make an apology for the abuse I’ve heaped on Makri’s head recently. She turns and leaves before I get the chance, so I drape the cloak round my shoulders and head for the walls.

T
HRAXAS
U
NDER
S
IEGE

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2005 by Martin Scott. Published by permission of Orbit Books/Time Warner Book Group UK.

A Baen Books Original

Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471
www.baen.com

ISBN 10: 1-4165-5573-0
ISBN 13: 978-1-4165-5573-5

Cover art by Tom Kidd

First Baen paperback printing, September 2008

Distributed by Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
2006021126

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Chapter
One
Chapter
Two
Chapter
Three
Chapter
Four
Chapter
Five
Chapter
Six
Chapter
Seven
Chapter
Eight
Chapter
Nine
Chapter
Ten
Chapter
Eleven
Chapter
Twelve
Chapter
Thirteen
Chapter
Fourteen
Chapter
Fifteen
Chapter
Sixteen
Chapter
Seventeen
Chapter
Eighteen
Chapter
Nineteen
Chapter
Twenty
Chapter
Twenty-One
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Chapter
Twenty-Three

I WOULDN’T
DREAM
OF INTERFERING…

When I arrive on the scene I find Makri face to face with an Orc. He’s carrying a sword in each hand and wearing a cloak and hood which might have got him through the foggy streets undetected. He glances at me as I arrive.

“Who is this?”

“A friend of mine,” says Makri.

The Orc looks at me contemptuously. It’s obvious I haven’t made a great impression on him. I take out my sword. Perhaps that will help. “Are you old friends?” I ask Makri, who’s sheathed her axe and now holds a sword in each hand.

“This is Marizaz,” replies Makri. “Number two gladiator in the Orcish arena.”

“Now number one,” the Orc says.

“Only because I left.”

“How did you get into the city?” I demand.

“As easily as Amrag and his army will, very soon,” he replies, which isn’t a lot of help really.

From the way Marizaz and Makri are staring at each other, I’d say they’d never been friends in the arena.

“You should have remained a gladiator,” says Makri. “Assassination doesn’t suit you.”

“It suits me well enough. Killing you will be a fine bonus.”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten the way I fight?”

Marizaz sneers. “They gave you easy opponents because you were a woman.”

Makri’s expression is grim. I’ve rarely seen her so offended, and I’ve insulted her plenty of times. She turns her head towards me.

“Thraxas. Don’t interfere.”

“T
urai is doomed,” says old Parax the shoemaker. He never was the most optimistic of men.

“Turai will survive,” declares Gurd. “No damned Orc is chasing me out of this city.”

He looks to me for support. I shrug. I don’t know if we’re going to survive or not. With our own army defeated, an Orcish army somewhere outside the walls, and no help on the way, it’s hard to be too optimistic. Last month we suffered a catastrophic defeat at the hands of Prince Amrag, Orcish overlord. He took us completely by surprise, trapping and destroying our forces outside the city walls. We hadn’t expected an attack in winter. The city authorities ignored the warnings of Lisutaris, head of the Sorcerers Guild, and we paid the price.

Despite their success, the Orcs failed in their attempt to take the city. They’d crossed the wastelands in midwinter, and they’d even managed to bring dragons with them. They were counting on a swift victory. Had they smashed their way into the city they could have wintered in comfort here, allowing fresh troops to join them from the east before mounting their invasion of the Human lands. As it is, they’re stuck outside in the snow and that can’t be comfortable, even for northern Orcs who are used to the bad weather.

“As soon as spring comes there’ll be a relief force on its way,” says Gurd.

Gurd is the owner of this tavern, my landlord, and my oldest friend. We’ve fought beside each other all over the world. These days his hair is grey and he sells beer for a living but his strength and fighting spirit are undiminished. Come the spring he’s fully expecting to be marching out of Turai and sending the Orcs back where they belong. It’s not such an unreasonable expectation. At this moment armies should be gathering. Simnia and all lands to the west will be arming themselves for war. The Abelasian General Hiffier will be preparing an army from the League of City States. The Elves of the Southern Isles will be preparing their ships and sharpening their spears. In theory, the first day of spring should see a huge force marching towards Turai from the west and another force sailing up from the south.

Unfortunately, we can be sure that at the same time a huge army of Orcs will be moving towards us from the west. Prince Amrag’s reinforcements might get here first. And anyway, Prince Amrag might not wait till spring.

“I reckon he’ll try and force his way into Turai before then.”

Gurd shakes his head.

“He can’t. He doesn’t have enough Orcs to storm the walls. He doesn’t have siege engines and the dragons can’t fly so well in winter. Our Sorcerers can hold them off.”

It’s true. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, still has a formidable array of sorcerous talent under her command. While the Orcs broke our army, they didn’t succeed in killing our Sorcerers and they’ve always been our most potent weapon. Gurd thinks that Prince Amrag miscalculated.

“Good attack, certainly. But not good enough. He didn’t get into the city. I don’t think he’s even close any more. Why would he spend the winter out there in the snow? He’ll head home and try again another time.”

I motion for Dandelion to bring me a beer. Winter in Turai is never comfortable and the only reasonable thing for a man to do is sit in front of a roaring fire and drink beer till it’s over. Unfortunately, civic duty requires me to spend a long time standing guard at the walls and I’m not enjoying it at all. If it wasn’t for my magic warm cloak I’d have passed away already.

I’m an Investigator by trade but I’m not doing any investigating these days. Since the Orcs attacked, I haven’t had a case. With the enemy outside the walls, the population is careful of its belongings. There are always shortages in Turai in winter and now it’s going to be worse. Dragons burned the storage warehouses and food will soon become scarce. Crime hasn’t gone away but with mercenaries, soldiers and Civil Guards everywhere, even the larger gangs that run the underworld have cut back on their activities. It means no one is paying me any money, but it’s probably just as well. With my military duty to perform every day, I’d be pushed to find the time to investigate anything.