Thraxas - The Complete Series (200 page)

I tell him I’m looking for the beggar I saw outside the tenement in Silver Lane.

“The place where that sea captain was murdered?”

“The same.”

Kerk holds out one hand. This early in the morning he’s fairly lucid, but already trembling, in need of dwa. I hand over a very small coin.

“More,” he says.

“More when you tell me something.”

“I know where you can find him. Give me more.”

I hand over another small coin. Kerk used to be a reliable informer. These days he’s not so reliable and I’m not paying him too much in advance only to find he knows nothing. Kerk scowls at the two small coins in his hand.

“His name’s Nerinax. He usually begs in front of St. Volinius’s church in the morning. Good spot, usually gets something from the pontifex.”

I give Kerk a larger coin. He stops scowling. I leave, picking my way carefully down the dark, litter-strewn stairway into the street below. It’s not far to the church. A chill rain starts to fall and I walk swiftly over the frozen streets. I’m hoping I don’t run into the priest, Derlex. He’s had it in for me ever since I got into an argument with his superior, Bishop Gzekius. While I admit that I’ve never been the most godly of men, I still say it was going too far to use me as the main example in his famous sermon against the four great vices—gluttony, gambling, drunkenness and violence. Children still point at me in the street.

Nerinax the beggar is sitting right in front of the church. The last time I was inside the building I encountered some Orcs. Makri killed them. She was so keen to kill them I was left trailing in her wake.

Nerinax has a bowl in front of him containing a few small coins. There’s a crutch propped up on the wall beside him, and one of his legs ends just below the knee. When I approach him he looks up hopefully. I take another small coin from my purse.

“Do you have a spot for begging up in Silver Lane?”

He stares at me, no longer hopeful. Now I’m not a person who’s about to give him money. I’m a person who wants to ask questions, never a popular thing in Twelve Seas.

“Silver Lane,” I repeat. “Do you beg there?”

“What about it?”

“Who did you see coming out of the building?”

“No one.”

I drop the coin into his bowl and take out another one. So far I’ve bribed the sailor in the Mermaid, Kerk, and now Nerinax. It’s the easiest way to get information. At least I haven’t had to think too much.

“Are you from the Guards?”

“No. I’m an Investigator. And Captain Arex was murdered inside the building you were outside of. As I’m sure you know. So tell me about the people you saw coming out.”

“I saw you.”

“Who else?”

“Civil Guards. After you.”

“What about before me?”

Nerinax looks round uncomfortably. He’d like me to drop another coin in his bowl but he doesn’t want anyone to see him giving information to an Investigator. Giving information can be an unhealthy pastime in Twelve Seas. There’s no one around. I drop the coin into his bowl.

“A few people were in and out of the building. A Sorcerer.”

“A Sorcerer? A big man? Long cloak and fancy black boots?”

The beggar nods. So Glixius Dragon Killer was there. That’s interesting.

“Who else?”

“A thin man in a cloak.”

“What did he look like?”

Nerinax shrugs.

“He had his hood up. He was thin. He was looking down like he didn’t want to be recognised.”

“Was this before the Sorcerer?”

He nods. I question him some more but he can’t give me a better description. A thin man in a cloak. Medium height, wearing a grey tunic, same as most people in Twelve Seas. It’s not much of a description.

“Anyone else?”

He glances round nervously again. Fearing he’s about to clam up, I take out another coin.

“Borinbax,” he says, quite nervously.

I’ve heard of Borinbax. He works for the Brotherhood, which is enough reason for Nerinax not to want anyone to know he saw him. Borinbax is a thief by trade. Not famous for his exploits, but busy enough. Mainly works around the harbour warehouses but has been known to rob wagons coming into the city. He could be the sort of man to steal the Ocean Storm, though I never heard that he was a killer. If he does have it, it might be in the hands of the Brotherhood by now, which will make it very awkward to retrieve.

I hand over another coin. By now the rain has started to fall more heavily. The beggar shivers, and looks uncomfortable. The front door of the church opens. I glance up. It’s Derlex, the pontifex. He glares at me. I depart swiftly.

Borinbax rents some rooms above a sailmaker’s shop close to the docks. By the time I get there the sky is dark grey and the rain is coming down heavily. The water in the harbour is choppy. Out beyond the harbour walls the sea is cutting up quite roughly. If there are any Orcish ships out there they might be in for an uncomfortable time. Perhaps Prince Amrag and his whole army will drown. That would save us a lot of trouble.

Before calling on Borinbax, I look around for a whale, or something which might resemble one. I don’t see anything. I wasn’t expecting to. I’ve lived close to the harbour most of my life and I’ve never heard of anything called the whale. But Tanrose’s mother definitely recalled that her father said the gold was buried under the whale. After some fruitless tramping of the streets I start to wonder if perhaps she’s losing her mind. Always a possibility, after a long life in Twelve Seas.

There are various taverns dotted around the docks. I wonder if any of them might once have been called the Whale. It’s a possibility. I’ll check it out later. I abandon the hunt and turn my mind back to Borinbax.

There’s a door beside the sailmaker’s shop and a staircase leading up to Borinbax’s rooms. The door isn’t locked and I climb the stairs carefully. Whoever’s taken the Ocean Storm hasn’t hesitated to kill, and I keep my hand on my sword pommel as I make the ascent. I’ve got a sleep spell ready to knock out anyone who gets in my way. It’s a small piece of sorcery but it’s often helped me out of a jam.

Borinbax’s front door is painted white. Most front doors in Turai are. It’s the lucky colour for front doors. It’s freshly painted, probably a sign that he isn’t doing too badly for himself. The door swings open easily. Odd. No self-respecting thief leaves his front door open. I draw my sword and advance carefully into the hallway. It’s dark, with no torch lit, so I take out my illuminated staff and speak the word to make it work. The hall lights up with a golden glow. My illuminated staff is a fine piece of craftsmanship. I won it from an Elf lord playing niarit. He was a fool to play me. I’m number one chariot at niarit.

The hallway is neat and clean. Fresh plaster on the walls and a small religious icon with a picture of St Quatinius, picked out in gold. There’s a rug on the floor, another good item, Abelasian wool, better quality than you’d find in most places in Twelve Seas. Borinbax must be doing well for himself. Or was doing well for himself, I should say, because he’s lying face down in the hallway, dead, and no longer enjoying his furnishings.

I creep further along the hall, examining each of his rooms. They’re all neat and they’re all empty. I go back to the body and turn it over carefully. There’s an ugly wound in his chest. I stare at it for a few moments. Doesn’t quite look like a stab wound. I try sensing the air for sorcery. I can’t pick up anything. I take a further look around but I’m not expecting to find anything, and I don’t. The Ocean Storm has eluded me again.

I
n the street below I call into the first tavern, buy a beer and down it in one gulp, then set off towards the Avenging Axe. Three people have now died because of the Ocean Storm. Every time I get close someone beats me to it. I wonder who else might be on the trail. I wonder about the oddly shaped wound in Borinbax’s chest.

There’s a cold mist rolling in off the sea which doesn’t improve my mood. Nor does the thought that my office is currently infested with sick people. How long is Lisutaris going to loll around in my bed? It seems like time she was getting better. As for Hanama, the woman is meant to be a deadly Assassin. You might think she’d be healthy enough to just shake off an attack of the malady rather than collapse in my office and refuse to budge. I decide to ask Gurd if he can do something about clearing a store room. Maybe I could just throw Hanama in the cellar till she recovers, and to hell with what Chiaraxi says. I’ve had enough of that healer ordering me around.

I’m no closer to raising the required funds for the card game. No Ocean Storm and no sign of the buried gold. Unless I get some sudden inspiration as to what Captain Maxius meant by “under the whale,” the treasure is going to remain undisturbed. The thought of not having enough money to play cards fills me with gloom. Might there be anyone else in the Avenging Axe who could lend me something? Dandelion for instance. She gets paid every week and what does she have to spend money on? As far as anyone knows, the only thing she ever does is go down to the coast and talk to the dolphins. She might have a few gurans laid by somewhere.

I trudge into the Avenging Axe with a mighty scowl on my face. Ignoring various friendly greetings from some of the regular customers, I march up to the bar and tell Dandelion to pour me a Happy Guildsman and be quick about it. Remembering that I’m about to ask her for money, I say thank you when she lays it on the counter. Makri emerges from the back room with a case of klee, replenishing the stocks behind the bar.

“You look as miserable as a Niojan whore,” she says.

“No doubt. I have a lot to put up with. Dandelion, can you lend me any money?”

Dandelion looks surprised.

“Are you having problems?”

I’ve been considering spinning some lie, but I don’t have the energy.

“I need it to play cards.”

“All right,” says Dandelion.

Makri interrupts, inevitably.

“You’re crazy Dandelion.”

“Makri, shut up. How much can you lend me?”

Dandelion thinks for a minute.

“Fifty gurans.”

“Excellent. I appreciate it.”

“That’s the last you’ll see of it,” says Makri, quite mockingly.

“But Thraxas is an excellent card player,” says Dandelion. “Doesn’t he always win?”

“I do. And I appreciate the loan. You can count on a good return on your money, Dandelion. A pity more people in this tavern don’t share your faith in a man.”

I ask Makri whether Lisutaris is showing any sign of recovering.

“Not much. She’s got it bad.”

Palax and Kaby are a little better, but still unable to leave Makri’s room, which doesn’t please her at all. Makri is also worried about falling ill herself. Chiaraxi is still calling in regularly to minister to her patients, which is something. According to her, the malady is spreading and it looks like the city might be in for a full-scale epidemic. Bad news, with the Orcs outside the walls. We’re short of fighting men as it is.

“I heard people in the market talking about the Orcs breaching the sea wall,” says Makri.

“What? Who said that?”

“Just some people at the stalls. They’d heard the Orcs have got a new weapon and they’re going to smash their way into the harbour.”

I suppose the rumour was bound to leak out. With the Civil Guards, the Sorcerers Guild, and the prefects’ office all looking for the Ocean Storm, word was bound to spread.

Makri notices I’m looking thoughtful.

“Do you think you can find it?”

“I don’t know. Whoever else is looking for it keeps getting there ahead of me. And he isn’t shy of killing either.”

Makri wonders why whoever else is looking for the Ocean Storm killed the captain and Borinbax. I admit I don’t know.

“Maybe just to protect his identity. It’s odd that no one seems to know who exactly is involved. The Sorcerers and the Guards are all looking; you’d think they might have come up with something.”

I wonder about the odd wound in Borinbax’s chest. It didn’t look like it came from a sword or a dagger.

“It looked like your chest.”

“What?” says Makri.

“Your chest after we pulled that crossbow bolt out of you.”

Makri looks interested.

“A crossbow bolt?”

A killer called Sarin the Merciless once fired a crossbow bolt into Makri’s chest, nearly killing her. She’s been keen for revenge ever since.

“I wonder if Sarin’s involved. She’s smart and she likes her crossbow. She might have removed the bolt afterwards to avoid giving herself away. And she wouldn’t mind killing anyone who got in her way.”

“If she shows up again I’ll kill her,” says Makri, brightening up at the prospect.

I finish my beer, and consider another. I need some sustenance, particularly as I’ve been obliged to sleep on the floor. I can still feel my back aching. It strikes me that as Tanrose has apparently moved in with Gurd, her room downstairs is now free.

“Of course,” I say, slapping my palm on the bar. “I should have thought of it before. I can move into Tanrose’s room till the sick people get the hell out of mine.”

“You can’t,” says Dandelion.