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  “And then something unusual happened. Sarin must have some shred of humanity in her miserable being because when she heard Ixial was being brought to the city to die she went back to see him. Being his student for four years might have stirred some emotion in her breast. I saw her try to kill Tresius, so she must feel something for Ixial. Sarin doesn’t normally kill for anyone else’s benefit. So I figure she felt something for her old teacher. Not enough to prevent her robbing him though.”

  “I suppose if Ixial was going to die she wasn’t really robbing him, to be fair,” says Makri, interrupting.

  I frown at her.

  “All these logic and rhetoric classes are bad for you, Makri. You should stick to being savage. Sarin practically killed you a few hours ago. Anyway, she was too smart to carry the statue in the purse when she went to see Ixial. He is a seer and might have perceived she had the gold. So she left the purse with the two men she’d hired to help her get the statue into the purse, a job she couldn’t manage on her own. You could pull the purse right down over it, but you’d still need help to tip the base up. She probably told her two accomplices to disappear for a day or two and then meet her.

  “Unfortunately they washed up in the Avenging Axe, which wouldn’t have been a bad place to lie low if one of them hadn’t happened to be a man I put in prison a few years back who was still looking for revenge. They were killed in the fight, which only brought their deaths forward a few days, because Sarin would certainly have disposed of them when she was done with them.

  “That put me right in the centre of things. Once Sarin learned where the men had been killed she knew I was involved and figured I’d probably ended up with the purse. She’s been after me ever since. So have the Star Temple. Whether Sarin told Ixial some tale to explain why I had the statue, or whether his powers led him to it, I don’t know. Which brought the yellow monks down on my tail as well, when their spies told them what was going on.”

  I look down at the rabbit nestling on my toes, then up at the great comet that is now shining in the sky.

  “Yes, Captain, while the Civil Guard has floundered around helplessly with no idea where the gold was, and these people have been chasing around after it, I’ve recovered it for the King. So don’t give me the outraged bit about withholding evidence. I’ve solved a case that was quite likely to get you busted down to Private when you made no progress with it.”

  I notice Tholius from the corner of my eye. He seems to be getting closer. Much closer.

  “Damn it. Why did no one tell me the river was drying up?”

  “We were all fascinated by your explanation,” says Makri.

  “This is no time for sarcasm.”

  “No, I mean it, really. I love it when you work these things out.”

  The river is now down to about ten feet wide and the monks are starting to wade over.

  “Run,” says the Captain.

  We run. The sun might be green but it doesn’t prevent it from being as hot as Orcish hell in here. I’m soon sweating badly and panting for breath. If we can reach a forest of yellow trees we’ll have some cover. I struggle to keep up with the pace. Abruptly the forest disappears. Just vanishes into thin air. Damn this magic space. I halt at the statue of Saint Quatinius.

  “Attack the heretics!” I demand, pointing at the pursuing horde. The statue doesn’t move. So much for that idea I reflect grimly, and carry on running.

  A giant castle hoves into view in the distance.

  “Make for the castle!” yells Captain Rallee.

  We make for the castle. As we approach, it disappears.

  “To hell with this,” says Makri, unsheathing her sword and turning to face her opponents. “I’m not running any more.”

  “Please, Makri, not now.”

  Makri plants her feet firmly on the ground, her sword and her axe in her hands, waiting for our pursuers to reach us.

  “Why can’t you just run away like a normal person?” I demand

  “It’s dishonourable.”

  “Well how much honour was there in the Orc slave pits, for God’s sake?”

  “Not much. But I’m not running any more. That’s that.”

  I sigh, and draw my sword. “Well, I’m too beat to run any further anyway. I never figured I’d be making my death stand under a green sun.”

  “It’s turned purple.”

  “Or a purple one.”

  Unwilling to leave us to be hacked down alone, Captain Rallee and Gurd stop running and stand at our side.

  “Getting too old to run,” says Gurd, with a grin, which makes me remember what a good, cheerful companion he was when we were mercenaries together.

  “Me too,” I tell him. “And too fat. Well, we’ve got out of worse scrapes than this.”

  “Sure we have. Remember the Niojan riverboat that thought we were crocodiles?”

  We bellow with laughter at the memory. I doubt we’re fooling anyone. Tholius and the rest are now very close. Having combined forces and concentrated their attack I wouldn’t think it’ll take them too long to dispatch us. We have no cover at all and even Makri’s remarkable fighting skills can’t prevent the monks from encircling us and sticking us full of throwing stars. Makri is wearing only her chainmail bikini. None of us are wearing armour. We’ll take plenty of them with us, but they’ll win in the end.

  The talking pig makes another appearance at our side. “Attack the heretics,” I suggest, without much hope.

  “Sorry, I’m on holiday,” says the pig, and vanishes.

  “What a waste of time this place is,” I say, angrily. “You think we might get a dragon flying down to protect us or something like that. But no, all we get is a pig that talks about theology and then goes on holiday.”

  I stop speaking rubbish for a second. Something has just occurred to me.

  “Makri, I just realised who really killed Drantaax.”

  At that moment the Venerable Tresius lands in front of me, somehow deflects my sword with the flat of his hand, and kicks me several feet in the air. It hurts. I’m bracing myself for it to hurt more on the way down when a terrific gale whips me up and blows me into a tree that has appeared from nowhere. Trees sprout up everywhere and suddenly a storm of random acts of magic makes it impossible for anyone to come to blows with anyone else. Ferocious insects of weird colours appear to torment us while the wind blows great gusts of purple hailstones about our heads. I notice Hanama in an adjoining tree, calmly waiting. I wonder if Ixial knows there’s a contract out on him.

  Combat is reduced to farce by the intervening magical forces. The trees disappear but before anyone can think about fighting again a volcano begins to sprout from the ground.

  Everyone starts to look nervous as we wonder whether the angry-looking volcano will vanish before it erupts. Smoke pours from the apex and lava is starting to trickle down its sides. The earth begins to shake.

  Captain Rallee looks at the growing volcano, then at me.

  “How do we get out of here?” he asks, a demand echoed by Prefect Tholius as the ground shakes and groans and lava begins to pour in torrents towards us. Casax is a fearless man and stands his ground, but his Brotherhood enforcers are starting to look nervous.

  “A good question. And one which Prefect Tholius should have thought of before following us in here. Escaping from the magic space is no easy matter. How about you?” I call over to Ixial the Seer. “Any suggestions?”

  The volcano starts to erupt.

  “Get us out of here!” roars Tholius.

  “Why should I? You’ll only kill us when we’re back in the tavern.”

  I turn to Casax.

  “Not much point taking us all back to Twelve Seas if the Brotherhood starts coming round giving me a hard time, is there?”

  Casax, still without fear, ponders for a second or two, then shrugs his shoulders.

  “Probably not, Investigator. But I’m not too mad at you for this. We want the gold and I’m not giving up on it, but if you get us out o
f here I’ll forget that you’ve been holding out on us.”

  Molten lava is now pouring from the volcano and rocks are starting to crash around our heads. Any second now there’s going to be one almighty explosion and Thraxas, Private Investigator, will never be seen again in the state of Turai.

  I call over to Tholius.

  “How about you, Prefect? You willing to walk away from the Avenging Axe if I get us back?”

  Tholius doesn’t have as much backbone as Casax.

  “Yes,” he screams. “Get us out!”

  “And as for you, Ixial and Tresius. You better just promise in the name of Saint Quatinius not to harm us when we return.”

  Ixial and Tresius nod. I catch a look in Rallee’s eyes showing that he doesn’t think much of all these vows. Neither do I, but I’ll have to hope for the best. The volcano shows no sign of disappearing and you can die here the same as anywhere else. If I get us out of the magic space I’ll have to take them all with me, though I’d be tempted to leave them if I could.

  I turn to Makri.

  “Where’s Hanama?”

  She doesn’t know. The Assassin has slipped off somewhere. There is a deafening explosion as the top of the volcano blows off and rocks the size of houses start tumbling around us. Ash rains down from the sky. It’s difficult to breathe.

  “Get us out,” scream a dozen voices.

  “Okay. Just let me get a sandwich.”

  I dig around in my bag and bring out one of the sandwiches Tanrose made me for my day’s investigation. After all the running around and fighting it’s looking somewhat the worse for wear, but it would do for lunch if I was hungry.

  Everyone stares at me incredulously.

  “Thraxas, this is no time to be thinking about your stomach!” cries Captain Rallee furiously as the molten lava starts to singe our toes.

  “He’s mocking us!” snarls Tholius. “I’ll kill him before the volcano gets me!”

  Remaining calm I remove the top layer from the sandwich, revealing some or Tanrose’s home-cured meat. I scrape a few grains of salt off the meat. The volcano erupts even more violently than before. A six-foot wall of lava surges over the rim and races towards us. Young monks scream and fall to their knees in prayer.

  I drop the salt on the ground. There’s an even louder bang and the whole world shakes itself apart in a fantastic earthquake. Abruptly the earthquake halts, the air shimmers, and the magic space starts to melt away. We find ourselves deafened but otherwise healthy, back in the Avenging Axe. The volcano is gone. No pigs lecture us. Gurd looks at me wonderingly.

  “How—?”

  “Salt. Complete anathema to the magic space. Destroys it. A little trick I learned on my travels abroad. The magic purse is no more. Only foreign bodies like us and the statue could survive. Everybody all right?”

  The monks start picking themselves off the ground, dazed from their experiences but relieved to be alive. No one is looking too comfortable. When you are one second away from death at the hands of a massive volcanic explosion and then the next second back in a tavern in Twelve Seas, it takes a little time to adjust.

  Prefect Tholius is one of the first to get his wits back. He checks that his ally Casax is still in one piece. Then, seeing that he still has a number of men in good health, he turns and points at me.

  “Kill that man,” he orders.

  I’m getting sick of hearing that.

  The monks hold back, unsure of whether to join in. And at that moment, as Gurd, Makri, Rallee and myself are wearily raising our weapons and thinking that really there must be some easier way to make a living, almost everyone in the tavern collapses to the ground and lies unconscious on the floor.

  Makri and I find ourselves staring stupidly at a mass of assorted monks and gangsters apparently all having an afternoon sleep. The only other person still standing is Casax.

  “What happened?”

  “Are we still in the magic space?” demands Makri.

  “You are back in the Avenging Axe,” says Astrath Triple Moon, appearing from the top of the stairs. I notice he’s helped himself to a flagon of ale.

  “Well done, Thraxas. I was a bit worried when you all disappeared into the magic space. That’s really not a place you should go. But I thought you’d probably emerge all right. Salt?”

  I nod.

  “I’ve been looking at your grimoire,” continues the Sorcerer. “Rather out-of-date, but functional enough. I thought you might need a little help when you got back so I had the sleep spell in readiness.”

  He looks at Makri. “I see your spell protection charms are working well.”

  Makri and I both wear spell protection charms round our necks. They’re made out of Red Elvish Cloth, which is immensely powerful, woven in with copper beads and wires and treated by Astrath. We acquired them a couple of months ago, fortunately, because a spell protection charm is vital to a man in my line of work. After I pawned my last one I was left an easy target for any malicious Sorcerer who came my way. Spell protections are rare items, and very expensive, and only the city’s most important officials such as the Consul are issued with them as a matter of right, which is why Captain Rallee now lies sleeping at my feet, along with Gurd and everyone else struck down by Astrath’s spell.

  “Poor Rallee. They ought to pay him better. Good thinking, Astrath.”

  Casax, an important man in the underworld, also has a spell protection charm so he’s still awake, but I can tell he’s at a loss for what to do next. I suggest to him he should leave before I summon the Guards and they start rounding up everyone connected with the King’s gold. The gangster’s face remains impassive but for once he has to admit defeat. Faced with myself, Makri and Astrath Triple Moon, he can’t get to the statue, and even though he has influence in this city he won’t want to be connected with the gold theft. That would have repercussions too strong even for the Brotherhood to escape.

  He turns and leaves without saying a word. Now we just have to decide what to do with everyone before they start waking up. Makri suggests killing the ringleaders while they’re still sleeping. I admit it as a possibility but wonder if there is some less drastic way to make ourselves safe.

  There is the slightest of sounds behind us as Hanama emerges from behind the statue. She wears a plain black necklace, the standard spell protection charm of the important Assassin. This Assassin has a great capacity for disappearing and reappearing when you don’t expect it.

  “I’m glad you’re still alive,” she says to Makri, calmly, and walks towards the door.

  “Don’t bother thanking me,” I call to her.

  “What for? I knew how to get out of the magic space. I took the precaution of taking salt with me.”

  Hanama appears to have been untroubled by the whole affair. She’s cool in a crisis, I have to grant her that.

  “Is that really the King’s gold?” she says, pointing to the statue.

  I look at the statue and nod.

  “It is.”

  “Well done,” says Hanama. “Another crime solved by your powers of investigation.”

  She disappears through the front door. I stare after her suspiciously.

  “That was odd.”

  “She paid you a compliment,” says Makri.

  “That’s what’s odd. Why? The Assassins Guild doesn’t waste its time on compliments. Well, never mind. What are we going to do now? We have about ten minutes until everyone wakes up. I really can’t stand any more running around getting chased by everyone. I’m sick of it.”

  I am heartily sick of the whole affair. I started off just wanting to clear poor Grosex. Look where it got me. Next time a Prefect insults me I should think twice about losing my temper. But I probably won’t.

  I have to do something quickly. Tholius will be down on me like a bad spell when he wakes up. We could be back where we started and now I’ve destroyed the magic space there’s nowhere to hide.

  “You could leave the tavern before they wake,” suggests
Astrath Triple Moon. “I could shelter you.”

  I’m not so fond of this idea. I don’t feel like hiding.

  “I could put the sleep spell back in my mind and send them to sleep again when they wake.”

  “True. But we’d be here all day. The Guards would probably like a long talk with some of these people. It’s no use going to the harbour station though. Tholius is in charge there and they’d just throw us in the slammer and I doubt we’d ever get out. But we could try Captain Rallee’s station. Once his men hear he’s in trouble they’ll come.”

  “What about the statue?”

  “Without the magic purse no one’s going to be able to move it in a hurry.”

  It means leaving the sleeping Gurd behind, but he’ll be safe enough with Astrath watching over things. They’re not after Gurd anyway. Makri and I make to leave. I get a strange feeling as I walk past the slumbering figure of Ixial the Seer. A very strange feeling. I bend down to examine him.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  A slim dart is buried in his chest, just deep enough to reach his heart. An Assassin’s weapon. I shake my head.

  “That’s why Hanama asked us to look at the statue.”

  You have to admire the woman’s skill. In the brief seconds I was distracted she threw a dart into Ixial’s chest, killing him casually in passing. And no one could say they witnessed the event.

  “No one escapes the Assassins Guild,” I sigh. “Come on, let’s get the Guards.”

  I know most of the Guards at the Captain’s station though that doesn’t mean I’m a frequent or welcome visitor. Captain Rallee bans them from giving me information. But when I march in and tell them that their Captain is at present lying asleep in the Avenging Axe, with the Brotherhood, Tholius and two temples’ worth of warrior monks waiting to attack him, and, furthermore, the King’s missing gold secreted nearby, the station empties quickly enough. I stop off on the way to send a message to Praetor Cicerius. If there’s a reward paid out for the recovery of the gold I don’t want my share shuffled aside for some grasping Civil Guard.