Thraxas - The Complete Series (35 page)

Tresius had been number two monk in the Star Temple, whose Abbot was Ixial the Seer. The way Tresius tells it, this parting of the ways went smoothly enough, but I have my doubts. Even if he’s next best thing to a saint, no Abbot is going to like it if half of his monks suddenly go off and worship somewhere else.

I have my suspicions about the real cause of the schism. In my experience of human nature—admittedly based on a knowledge of the lowest forms—fancy disputes about fine points of detail in any organisation are liable just to be excuses for a good fight about who’s really in charge. The way I read the situation, Tresius challenged Ixial the Seer for leadership and the result was too close to call, so he quit, along with half the monks.

I’m getting bored with this tale of quarrelling monastics when Tresius finally reaches the interesting part.

“During the struggle that took place before we left, the statue of Saint Quatinius that stood in the courtyard of the monastery was toppled from its pedestal and destroyed. This was a bitter blow for everyone. The statue was an ancient and beautiful work, carved in marble from the quarries of Juval. It is vital for a monastery of warrior monks to have in its possession a statue of Saint Quatinius.”

Quatinius was a fighting saint, killed at war with the Orcs some hundreds of years ago. Warrior monks consequently regard him as an inspiration for their calling.

“We of the Cloud Temple did of course face the founding of our new monastery without such a statue. But we were aware of that, and have already commissioned the sculpting of a new one. Marble is no longer imported from Juval, so we commissioned one of bronze from Drantaax.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“It would have taken some months to complete, but now that Drantaax is dead we will be forced to recommission it elsewhere, which will of course mean a delay. Sculptors of his skill are rare, and always have work already in hand. For our fledgling monastery, this delay is a serious setback. Are you aware of the Triple-Moon Conjunction in three months’ time?”

I am. I still remember enough of my sorcerous training to recall the most important astrological phenomena. When the three moons line up in the sky every ten years or so, it’s a major event. We have a festival. Everyone sings hymns and gets drunk at the chariot races. I’ve always enjoyed it.

“If we do not have a statue at the time of the conjunction it will mean a serious loss of face.”

“How serious?”

The Venerable Tresius turns his head to his two followers and makes some slight movement with his eyes. They bow, and depart. Left alone, he inclines his head towards me.

“Very serious indeed. We cannot perform our Conjunction ritual without it. If Ixial the Seer has replaced his own statue by then, monks from the Cloud Temple may be placed in a difficult situation.”

“In plain language, no statue, no monks?”

He nods.

“But Ixial and the Star Temple don’t have a statue either. Have they commissioned a new one?”

“I believe not. I believe that they are responsible for the theft from Drantaax.”

“Are you saying that Ixial, who’s an Abbot, actually connived in the murder of Drantaax just so he could nab a statue for himself?”

“Quite possibly. Ixial is ruthless. I do not believe that his monks would have set out to commit murder but who knows what may have gone wrong when they tried to purloin the statue that was intended for the shrine? Alternatively, he may have hired others to do it for him, and been unaware of what might happen. Either way, with the twin events of the theft and the murder Ixial has struck a devastating blow against me. Drantaax’s death means that our own icon will not be ready and he may gain an impressive new one for his own monastery. If that is the situation when the Triple-Moon Conjunction comes then his temple will gain dominance over ours.”

“Meaning you lose out?”

“Exactly. And I do not wish my followers to return to Ixial.”

I mull this over. I grab a beer from the crate on my shelf, open it, drink and mull it over some more.

“What exactly are you wanting to hire me to do? If I find the statue, I can’t hand it over to you. It’s being made for the shrine and it belongs to the city authorities.“

The Venerable Tresius is aware of this. He doesn’t mind it being returned to the city authorities; he just doesn’t want it going to Ixial. Apparently if no one has a statue that is not too bad. Of course if it turns out that Ixial was behind the murder and I prove it, then that removes Ixial and Tresius won’t mind that at all.

“If he was not behind it, and you return the statue to the city, then each of our temples may flourish according to our merits.”

“But if no one recovers the statue and it ends up at the Star Temple then your young monks will take a hike?”

He nods.

“You know I’m involved in this case already? I haven’t been hired to find the statue, but I’m looking for the killer of Drantaax.”

“Is it not likely that in the course of your investigation into the murder you will find the statue?”

“Sure it’s likely. I’ll put Ixial in jail as well if it turns out he was responsible for killing the sculptor.”

The Venerable Tresius doesn’t look too despondent at the thought of Ixial in jail. He gives the impression that Ixial is capable of anything. This consubstantiality argument must have been pretty bitter.

I ask him if he has any idea where the statue might be now. It’s in my pocket of course, but I’m curious about how much Tresius knows.

“No, but I believe it has not yet reached the Star Temple.”

“Why?”

“I have means of obtaining information from that establishment.”

“You mean you have a spy there?”

He declines to answer this.

“So, basically, Tresius, you want to prevent Ixial from getting this statue. You’re hiring me to find it and hand it back to the authorities.”

He nods. I don’t see any reason not to take his money. I’m going to hand it back to the authorities anyway, when I’ve finished with it.

I take my standard thirty-guran retainer.

I ask him if he’s come across any of the Star Temple monks since he’s been in Turai. He says that he hasn’t. Which is a lie, given that I saw them fighting.

“One last thing. Why is he called Ixial the Seer? Is he a prophet?”

“Not exactly. But he does see very far in all directions. There is very little that he does not know.”

Tresius takes his leave. At the doorway he meets Dandelion.

“Nice robe,” says Dandelion, looking admiringly at the yellow cloth.

Tresius smiles serenely and departs, his warrior monk training providing him with enough inner strength not to flinch at Dandelion. Myself, I stare at her bare feet and flowers with renewed disgust.

“Astrath Triple Moon said to tell you that he is sure he can help,” she reports.

She liked Astrath. Particularly his rainbow cloak and the colourful hat he wears on special occasions.

“I’m not sure if he knows too much about the stars, though. He didn’t believe me when I told him that everyone born under the sign of the dragon was going to have a lucky year. I promised I’d go back and talk to him about it.”

Poor Astrath.

Dandelion starts rambling on about the dolphins. Apparently they are really suffering without their healing stone. She can’t understand why I won’t help.

“They are very upset that you won’t help them.”

“Oh yes? And how do you know that?”

“They told me, of course.”

The dolphins can’t really talk. It’s just a story for children. I get a bleak mental image of Dandelion at the seashore, gibbering in the direction of some bemused-looking dolphins. Poor dolphins. I tell her I’m busy and banish her from my office. I’ve got things to think about.

Grabbing this rare moment of peace and quiet, I consult my book of spells and load the sleep spell into my mind. It is an unfortunate facet of magic that the spells don’t stay in your memory, no matter how good you are. Once you use them, they’re gone, and you have to learn them all over again.

Once I have the sleep spell learned I feel better. I have an uncomfortable feeling that before too long I am going to be involved with a lot of warrior monks and after seeing them flying through the air aiming kicks at each other’s heads, I’ve no intention of getting involved in hand-to-hand combat. Anyone aiming a flying kick at me is going to find himself sleeping soundly before he lands.

Quen appears. I intimate that she’s about as welcome in my room as an Orc at an Elvish wedding, and throw her out.

“Go and hide in Makri’s room. If you’re short of space in there then sit on Dandelion’s shoulders. See if she can predict how you’re going to escape the city.”

I settle down with another beer, and think about things.

W
hen I tell Makri about Tresius she’s impressed. “It’s your ideal case, Thraxas. Someone hires you to find something you already have. I take it you’ll be spinning it out for a few weeks so you can charge him more?”

“Very amusing, Makri. Guild College has improved your sarcasm tremendously. The reason I didn’t tell him I had the statue is that I haven’t finished with it yet. I’m still trying to clear Grosex, remember. This is evidence.”

Makri is even more impressed when I show her the huge statue inside the small purse.

“I like the look of the magic space. Everything’s purple. Can we go in?”

“Definitely not. Entering the magic space is a very bad thing to do. My old teacher forbade it.”

“You think this Ixial the Seer did kill Drantaax?” I’ve been filling in Makri on the details.

“It looks like he might be behind it. Which is fine with me. If I can prove it I’ll get Grosex out of jail and it’ll be one in the eye for Prefect Tholius. But it doesn’t explain why the statue is here, though. Why did it end up in that man’s purse? If the thugs that tried to kill me were working for Ixial, why didn’t they give him the statue?”

“Maybe they just couldn’t wait to attack you.”

“Possibly, I’m that kind of guy. But how come they had the purse with the statue?”

“Maybe just coincidence,” suggests Makri. “They might have stolen it, or bought it in a tavern. After all, whoever took it from Thalius Green Eye might not have known what it was.”

This is possible. Bit of a coincidence, but it’s not that unlikely that my old adversary robbed Thalius and then headed for Twelve Seas to lay low for a while. I’m not convinced though. I figure that Soolanis is wide of the mark when she says that her father was killed over a dwa debt. I reckon the purse was the main reason. Which makes his killer a very ruthless person, if he was murdered merely to provide a means of exporting a statue from the city without anyone noticing.

“I’m dealing with a brutal killer here, Makri. Murdered a Sorcerer and the city’s top sculptor. You know Thalius was killed with a crossbow?”

“I thought he was poisoned by a servant.”

“Just a cover-up by the authorities. He was involved in dwa, probably taking it up to Prince Frisen-Akan at the palace. Consul Kalius won’t want to reopen that scandal. It’s only two months since the Prince’s drug habit was nearly exposed to the population. Remember a ruthless killer with a fondness for crossbows?”

“Sure. Sarin the Merciless.”

Sarin the Merciless. I ran her out of town years ago when she was all mouth and no action. She showed up recently in a far more deadly fashion, having honed her fighting skills for four years in a monastery with a group of warrior monks. I remind Makri of the warrior monk connection and she agrees that we could be dealing with Sarin once again.

“You keen to meet her again after last time?”

“What do you mean ‘after last time’?” I demand.

“Didn’t she win?”

I scoff at the suggestion. “Win? Against me? Please. I only let her go because I was busy with other things, like saving the city from destruction. If she shows her face around here again I’ll be down on her like a bad spell. Anyway, freeing her was a smart move. Boost the reward money when I nail her this time. No cropped-haired, crossbow-wielding killer is going to get away from me twice.”

Makri lights a thazis stick, inhales a few times and passes it to me. I pour us a little klee. Makri’s eyes water as it burns her throat on the way down.

“Why do you drink this stuff?” she demands. “We’d have rioted in the slave pits if they tried serving it to us.”

“This is top-quality klee. Another glass?”

“Okay.”

There’s a commotion outside as a stonemason gets into an argument with an architect. I hear that the master craftsmen have been complaining to their guilds that they’re being provided with sub-standard materials, which wouldn’t be a surprise. The King opened up the public purse to pay for many of the repairs to the city but by the time the Praetors, Prefects, clerks and Brotherhood take their cut I doubt there’ll enough left to pay for superior stone or marble.

“You know, Makri, this whole thing stinks. According to the Venerable Tresius the statue is important to the Cloud Temple and the Star Temple because young monks regard an Abbot without a good statue of Saint Quatinius as about as much use as a eunuch in a brothel. But I’m not sure if I believe that. After all, why didn’t Tresius think of that before he split off and set up his own temple?”