Thraxas at War Page 18

  Apparently the Consul has just been discussing the escape from prison of the Senator's wife, in which I am now deeply implicated. For a moment I expect the powerful Coranus to denounce me on the spot. Was there something in the way he mentioned Iisutaris's name? Are they suspicious already?

  Coranus pauses at the door. I wait to be denounced.

  "Be sure to pass on my message to Prince Dees-Akan that he is a fool of the highest order to remove Lisutaris from the War Council."

  The Consul nods stiffly. If he passes on the message I doubt he'll use those exact words. Coranus looks at me quite affably before sauntering out. I think I made a good impression. The door closes. Kalius turns to me.

  "You will regret this. When you were made Tribune there was never any intention that you should interfere in the governing of Turai."

  "No. Just an intention that I'd help Turai cheat to get Lisutaris elected head of the Sorcerers Guild. And now I'm here with some awkward questions for you. Funny how these things work out. What were you doing in the corridor before Galwinius was murdered?"

  "I have already explained that I was in conference with Rittius and Bevarius."

  "Not then. After. You all walked down the corridor. But you walked back alone, which you never mentioned before. And then you talked to someone at the food trolley. A Senator I didn't recognise. Who was it?"

  "Do you think you can barge into my office and bully me? The Consul of Turai?"

  I lean over the desk.

  "You think that's bullying? How about this. You're badly in debt. Creditors are chasing you and if you don't get some money soon you're going to find yourself in the bankruptcy court, disbarred from office. No fancy carriage and seat in the Senate. No big house in Thamlin. No cosy relationship with your lady friend Tilupasis. Even your buddy Capatius won't cover your bills. But then Prefect Galwinius dies and suddenly you've come into a very fat inheritance. Nice for you. But I'd say it makes it fairly suspicious that you didn't mention to anyone that you were alone in the corridor and then talked to someone right beside the food trolley. Quite an omission, in the circumstances. It will all make for a good report to the Senate."

  "I'll have you thrown out of the city!"

  "Not before I've made a report."

  Kalius hesitates. He's wondering if I've really seen some better sorcerous pictures of the events or if I'm bluffing. As Consul, he's been privy to all the findings of government Sorcerers so far. None of these showed him doing anything suspicious. And now here I am, spoiling things. Kalius is struggling. There's something on his mind he really doesn't want to admit.

  "You might as well tell me. I'll find out in the end. I generally do. Politicians threaten me and thugs attack me and I just keep going. It's annoying for other people, but it's what I do."

  "You expect me to reveal anything to a man who is working for Lodius?"

  "I'll keep it private. Unless you did kill Galwinius. You don't have a choice. It's me or a Senate committee."

  Kalius gives up the struggle.

  "Very well, Investigator. I was called to meet with Senator Cressius. My talk with him was not something I wished to make public'

  "Why not?"

  "Because Senator Cressius is a moneylender. My debts are such that I was left with no choice. No bank in Turai will do business with me."

  I chew this over for a few seconds. I'm aware of Cressius's reputation though I've never encountered him. I didn't know he was a moneylender but it fits with what I've heard about him. He's one of our more disreputable Senators and not a man the city's Consul should be associating with. Kalius would certainly want to keep it quiet. The only strange thing is that they were talking in such a public place.

  "I had not arranged the meeting beforehand," explains the Consul. "But on that morning a note arrived from my banker informing me that he was about to foreclose on my mortgage. I therefore instructed my assistant to approach Senator Cressius at the meeting and arrange an impromptu discussion. And now, Investigator, you will leave my office, and never enter it again. I told you that you were finished in this city, and I intend to make that happen."

  I leave the Consul's office deep in thought. It's possible that Kalius is telling the truth about Cressius. He needed money badly enough to approach him. Much the same would apply to Senator Lodius. Another man badly in need of funds. Maybe there was no more to the events in the corridor than two aristocrats both needing a loan. I'm still uneasy. Lodius and Kalius both stood to gain from Prefect Galwinius's death. Was borrowing money all they were discussing in the corridor with Cressius?

  It's time to confront Bevarius. His secretary informs me that the Consul's assistant is not in the building today so I set off towards his home. Bevarius is unmarried and lives in a house of moderate size on the outskirts of Thamlin. On the way there I'm so deep in thought I hardly notice the cold. There's no one around except for a few hurrying servants, out buying provisions, as I walk up to Bevarius's modest dwelling. Not cheap - nothing is in Thamlin - but suitable for a young man whose parents never rose far in Turanian society. A few large rooms, small private temple, couple of servants, nothing more.

  There's no answer when I knock on the door. I apply some weight. Nothing happens. I try a minor word of power for opening locks and the door swings open. The Consul's assistant should take more care. The hallway is bright, white walls, little furnishing. Likewise the main room. Bevarius obviously isn't a man given to luxury. I turn round to find him standing in the doorway pointing a small bow at me. He takes a step forward. I don't like the weapon he's carrying. It looks powerful and there's an arrow pointed at my heart. Bevarius notices my gaze.

  "Specially issued to all cavalry commanders," he explains. "Small and light for using on horseback. Made from the horns of the arquix. Almost as powerful as a crossbow. The arrow will pin you to the wall."

  "I didn't know you were a cavalry commander."

  "Just commissioned. What are you doing in my house?"

  "Investigating."

  "Investigating what?"

  "Kerinox."

  Ah, Kerinox," says Bevarius, calmly. "The man I hired to kill you."

  "That's the one."

  Bevarius comes further into the room. I'm looking for a chance to jump him but he's careful not to come too close.

  "Why did you want me killed?"

  "I'm sure you must know already, Investigator. You were coming rather too close to finding out the truth about Galwinius's death."

  Bevarius is making no attempt to lie, which can only mean that he intends to kill me. No reason why he shouldn't. It's the smart thing to do, in the circumstances. Gets me out of the way, and the Civil Guards won't be too upset with the Consul's assistant for killing an intruder. I try to buy some time.

  "Why did you kill Galwinius?"

  "He found out about the Orcish Sorcerer. An informant told him. We couldn't let him give us away'

  "How did you manage to frame Senator Lodius? He could have handed that pastry to anyone, or eaten it himself."

  Bevarius looks amused.

  "You're no better at investigating than the Civil Guard, and God knows, they're bad enough. Galwinius wasn't killed by the pastry from Lodius's tray. The poison doesn't act that quickly. Unlike carasin, it takes a minute or two to take effect. I fed the poisoned item to Galwinius before the Consul entered the room. It was just good fortune that Galwinius keeled over when he did. Made Lodius the prime suspect. In the confusion, I dropped a little more poison on to the pastry he'd eaten. Enough to fool the Sorcerers."

  "That was smart."

  "It was."

  "The Orcs must have paid a lot for the services of a smart man like you."

  Bevarius's eyes narrow.

  "Maybe they did. And I think we've talked long enough."

  He's about to loose the arrow.

  "So who were you working with? Kalius?"

  Bevarius frowns. Then he gasps, and sags forward. His finger lets go of the arrow and it thuds into the floor i
n front of him. He grasps at his neck then crumples to the floor. I dash to his side. There's a dart sticking in his neck. I look round wildly, unable to fathom where it came from. One of the front windows is open a few inches. It doesn't seem possible that anyone could have fired a dart through the gap so accurately as to kill Bevarius, but there's no other solution. Someone very adept in the use of weapons has just assassinated him. There's no one in sight. His killer will be long gone by now, disappearing into the snow.

  I return to the corpse. Blood is pumping from Bevarius's neck. I put my hand inside his toga, looking for the concealed pocket that these awkward garments always contain. I pull out a few papers. A betting slip, from the look of it, and something larger. I frown. The larger piece of paper is now stained with blood but I can still make out some of the letters. They're written in Orcish. There's a noise outside. I look out the window. Two servants, coming home laden with goods. I make quickly for the back door and exit as they go in the front. I'm hurrying along the road by the time I hear someone screaming that Bevarius has been murdered.

  The snow is falling more heavily. I keep my head down and hope that no one will pay enough attention to me to give the Civil Guards a good description when they arrive to investigate. I'm keen to get back to the Avenging Axe as quickly as possible to examine the Orcish writing. I have a fair knowledge of the common Orcish tongue and Makri's is better.

  I find her in her room, studying some old books. Makri has very few books. She'd like more, but they're expensive items.

  "Makri. I did swear never to speak to you again after the Herminis debacle but I need your help translating this Orcish document."

  "Okay," says Makri, quite brightly.

  "New books?"

  "Samanatius gave them to me. I went along to his academy to say goodbye."

  "Is he leaving town?"

  "No, he's going to fight the Orcs."

  I can see why Makri was saying goodbye. I can't see the elderly philosopher lasting long on the battlefield.

  I spread out the sheet of paper on the floor for Makri to examine. It's torn and stained with blood. Makri purses her lips and says that it's not a form of Orcish she's familiar with.

  "I can make out some of it. But there are words I've never seen before. I can probably work it out given time; it looks like some old form of the dialect they speak in Gzak. Like the Orcish their Sorcerers use, I think."

  "Okay. But what about the bits you can read? Does the heading say something about feeding dragons?"

  "Not feeding," says Makri. "Transporting."

  "Transporting?"

  With an Orcish army on the way, anything about transporting dragons can't be good news.

  "Where did this come from?"

  I tell Makri about Bevarius. Makri asks if the Consul's assistant was working alone. I admit I'm not sure.

  "Someone killed him before I could finish my interrogation."

  I examine the betting slip. Not an official slip from one of Turai's bookmakers but the sort of note a man might make to record some bet between friends, or maybe a note to remind him who was gambling on what when he went to place the bet. Might not be important. All classes in Turai place bets on the races.

  "You were right about the poison. It wasn't carasin. Something similar, but slower working. Bevarius poisoned the pastry in—'

  I stop. Where did Bevarius poison the pastry? Not in the kitchen. The cook said no one entered the kitchen. In the corridor? Maybe. But if he did, it didn't show up in Lisutaris's sorcerous reconstruction of the scene, even with her improved pictures. Maybe the Consul did it. He was definitely around the food trolleys. But somehow I can't see Kalius injecting poison into a pastry in the corridor, not when he was due to negotiate a loan from a moneylender. Kalius isn't cool-headed enough to do all that. Everything seems to be pointing towards the Consul but I'm hesitant. I just don't see him as a murderer. Incompetent, yes. Greedy, to an extent. But not murderous. The whole affair sounds much more like the work of a ruthless man like Rittius. There's a man who'd have no qualms about organising a few deaths. And I could easily see him betraying the city for money.

  Unfortunately nothing points in his direction, and he was never in a position to poison the pastry. Now I think about it, he was alone in the corridor with Bevarius for a while. Neither of them was near the food though. Bevarius's partner in crime has to be someone else.

  I ask Makri where Herminis is and she says they've moved her to a secret location.

  "Is that secret location my office?"

  "No."

  I leave her to translate the Orcish paper while I go downstairs and get myself outside a substantial helping of everything on the menu. It takes more than a brush with death to affect my appetite. Viriggax and his mercenaries are drinking steadily at a table nearby. Young Toraggax is pouring a huge flagon of ale down his throat, urged on by his companions. Being new to the brigade, he doesn't want to lag behind in the drinking, but he's looking a little the worse for wear. As he finishes the tankard, Viriggax claps him heartily on the back and pushes another one into his hand.

  I find myself nodding off in the chair, so I take myself off to my room, drink a last beer, then fall asleep.

  Deep into the night I'm woken by noises outside. Someone is clumping around in the corridor. It's long past the hour when anyone in the tavern should be awake. I throw on a tunic, grab my sword and whisper a word to my illuminated staff, bringing forth a dim light, I open my door carefully, wary of attackers. Some way along the corridor I find Makri in the process of hauling an unconscious Toraggax out of her room. Makri's a lot stronger than she looks but she's having some difficulty in moving the huge mercenary.

  "Need a hand?"

  Makri spins round and looks guilty.

  "No," she replies.

  I look down at the unconscious man.

  "What happened? You slug him when he tried to sneak into your room?"

  "He didn't sneak in. He knocked on the door and I let him in."

  And you slugged him when he started getting amorous?"

  "I didn't slug him at all," replies Makri. "He just fell over drunk."

  I nod.

  "Too much beer. He was trying to keep up with Viriggax."

  I'm puzzled.

  "Why did you let a drunken mercenary into your room without punching him?"

  Makri shrugs.

  "No reason."

  "So what happened?"

  "What do you mean, what happened? He came in, then he fell over unconscious. What's it got to do with you anyway?"

  "Nothing. If you want to start inviting mercenaries into your bedroom it's your affair."

  "I didn't invite him into my bedroom. He just arrived."

  Makri suddenly glances over my shoulder. I look round to find that Hanama has arrived on the scene, quite noiselessly. The Assassin looks slightly confused at the sight that greets her.

  "What are you doing here?" I demand. "How did you get into the tavern?"

  "I picked the lock. What's happening?"

  "Nothing," says Makri.

  "She's just evicting a drunken mercenary," I explain.

  "Did he try to break into your room?"

  "No," I say. "She invited him in."

  Hanama frowns.

  "You're inviting mercenaries into your room? When did this start?"

  "Nothing has started," says Makri, raising her voice. "He just knocked on my door and I let him in. I don't see anything strange in that."

  "I think it's very strange," says Hanama, who, for some reason, is not sounding at all pleased. "You've never done it before."

  "She's right," I agree. "It's not like you at all. Usually you'd just punch the guy'

  "Or maybe kick him," says Hanama.

  "Or even stab him."

  "Shut up," says Makri crossly. "It's none of your business."

  I notice a few leaves projecting from Hanama's winter cloak.

  Are those flowers?"

  "No," says Hanama.


  "Yes they are."

  "Well so what if they are?"

  Assassins are trained from a young age to hide their emotions. Even so, for the briefest of moments I'd swear a look of embarrassment flickers across Hanama's face.

  "Did you bring them for me?" asks Makri.

  "No," says Hanama. "I just had them on me."

  She pauses.

  "Unless you want them. You can have them if you want."

  "Thank you," says Makri.

  "Of course," says Hanama, "if you're too busy with the mercenary ..."

  "I'm not busy with anything."

  Hanama suddenly looks cross.

  "I do think it's very strange that you're suddenly inviting northern mercenaries into your room late at night. Did you really think about the consequences?"

  "Goddammit," explodes Makri. "I didn't know I had to ask permission before I had visitors!"

  Heavy footsteps on the stairs announce the arrival of Gurd. He walks up, torch in hand, wondering what all the noise is.

  "What's going on?"

  "Nothing," says Makri.

  "She has drunken mercenaries in her room," says Hanama, quite sharply.

  "Is this true?" demands Gurd.

  "Only partially," replies Makri.

  Gurd looks down at the unconscious figure of Toraggax.

  "Did you punch him?"

  "What is this with me punching people?" demands Makri. "You all seem to think I spend my whole time punching everyone."

  "Well you do," says Gurd.

  "She didn't have to punch him," says Hanama. "She just invited him right into her room."

  "What for?"

  "We're not exactly clear about that," I say.

  There are some softer footsteps on the stairs. Tanrose has arrived. She's clad in a very fancy robe, embroidered with yellow roses.

  "What's happening?"

  "Makri punched a mercenary," says Gurd, who hasn't quite got the picture yet.

  "I didn't punch him," protests Makri. "I invited him in."

  "So you just come right out and admit it?" says Hanama.

  Gurd suddenly becomes suspicious, and looks at Makri and Hanama.

  Are you having a meeting? You know I told you you couldn't have meetings of the Association of Gentlewomen in my tavern."