Thraxas Page 36

  "How are you alive, Makri?" asks Gurd, a question I was meaning to ask myself before I got distracted.

  She shrugs. She just woke up with a stone on her chest and a crossbow bolt lying beside her. There isn't so much as a scar on her body. I remember I left the stone on her, which was just as well. It must have taken longer to work on her than it did on Ixial, which is not surprising I suppose, seeing as she was so far gone she didn't even register on Astrath's lifestone. Quite something, this mixture of blood, I muse. I'll never believe Makri's dead again unless I see her lowered into her grave, and maybe not even then.

  "An amazing artefact, the dolphins' healing stone. I wonder if I have to give it back?"

  "Of course you have to give it back. The dolphins hired you to work for them."

  "No fee was agreed. If they offer me fish I'm turning it down."

  Captain Rallee suggests that they might have some sunken treasure to pay me with although the general consensus is that the dolphins are lucky for Turai so I shouldn't even be thinking about trying to make money off them.

  "And they healed me," Makri points out. "I feel great."

  "You'd probably have recovered anyway, with a good night's sleep."

  Makri inclines her head towards the heavens. "Nice blue sun up there. Hey, it just went green. So what else happens in the magic space?"

  The marble figure of Saint Quatinius suddenly swivels towards Hanama.

  "Get off my horse," he says.

  "All sorts of thing happen," I sigh. "It's really not a good place to be."

  Even Hanama, trained in every form of concealment, both physical and mental, can't hide her surprise at being ordered about by a statue. She leaps down nimbly from the marble horse and gazes up suspiciously at the saint. He's now gone quiet.

  "Did he really speak?" demands Gurd, who's raised his axe nervously. As a Barbarian he has never been comfortable with any form of magic, and this is all very strange to him.

  "Yes. All sorts of things speak here."

  We look around at the continually changing colours of the landscape.

  "Is this where you go when you eat the mushrooms Palax collects in the woods?" asks Makri.

  This passes me by completely. I don't know anything about the mushrooms Palax collects in the woods.

  "Well, now we're here, what's the next move?" wonders Captain Rallee, a practical man and not one to stand around admiring the view.

  "Incidentally, is the purse still visible in the outside world?"

  "Yes."

  "And we're inside it?"

  "Yes."

  "Then what if someone picks it up and throws it in the fire?"

  "Who'd do that? It has a golden statue inside it."

  "Prefect Tholius might decide to forgo the golden statue if he can get rid of all the witnesses to his crimes."

  I admit this is a troubling thought.

  "Can you get us out of here in a hurry?"

  Before I can reply a large pig walks by on two legs. It greets us politely. Gurd grips his axe and the pig notices this with displeasure.

  "Oh! Going to chop me up, eh? That's a Human for you, chop up a pig without giving it a second thought. How would you like it if you were just going about your daily business and someone came along and chopped you up and ate you?"

  "The Human race has been given dominion over the beasts of the field," says Saint Quatinius, from his horse.

  "Well, not by me," replies the pig, and they start arguing.

  I'm still on a high at finding Makri is alive but when I reflect that I intended to spend the summer quietly sipping ale and resting in the shade, and instead I now find myself inside the magic space listening to a theological debate between a saint and a talking pig while outside half of Turai's killers are waiting for me with swords in their hands, I get a little depressed.

  The pig disappears without warning as bodies start raining down from the sky. At first I think it's more magical creatures. As the crowd of bodies floats to the grass—now a bright shade of orange—I realise that Tholius, Casax and the monks have followed us into the magic space. The lust for gold has no boundaries. We raise our weapons wearily to do battle again.

  Chapter 16

  Our adversaries come to ground looking confused and disorientated but it doesn't take long to get their bearings as Tresius, Ixial, Casax and Tholius marshal them into order.

  "Kill them!" roars Tholius again.

  At that moment the ground cracks open at our feet and a river emerges in a torrent, separating us from our pursuers. By the time they collect their wits they're looking at us across fifty feet of swiftly flowing water. I laugh. A very satisfying turn of events. I saunter down to the water's edge.

  "Hi, Tholius," I call. "Fancy a swim?"

  Tholius is nonplussed. Ixial the Seer is untroubled.

  "The river will not remain for long."

  "I wouldn't count on your powers of farseeing working in here, Ixial. The magic space is very distorting, even for a man like yourself. Congratulations on your recovery. Now your legs are better you'll be able to walk up to the scaffold. Incidentally, it was rash of you to follow us. Just shows you're far too keen on gold for your own good. Do any of you have any idea how to get out of the magic space?"

  From the looks of uncertainty that flit over the various faces on the other side of the river I can tell that is something they haven't considered. Our conversation is interrupted by a brief but heavy downpour of frogs.

  "So, Tholius," I shout, as the last frog hops merrily away. "What's the plan?"

  "Kill you," he roars back.

  "Not such a bad plan, perhaps. Depends on your point of view. Another alternative would be to turn yourselves over to Captain Rallee here, and face the consequences of your illegal actions."

  Tholius isn't so keen on this. He likes his own plan better. Despite their losses in the tavern, the Prefect and Casax still have plenty of armed men with them. So do Ixial the Seer and the Venerable Tresius, so they'll probably be able to carry out his wish if this river suddenly disappears. I maintain a confident front and continue to torment Tholius from the safety of our present position.

  Captain Rallee scratches his head. It annoys me the way he doesn't have any grey in his hair. Mine is just as long but it is starting to look streaky. I still contend that my moustache is better than his and it always has been.

  "Thraxas. Just in case we ever get out of this place alive. And just in case I don't throw you right in the slammer for having the King's gold in your possession, how about filling me in on some details? I only came to commiserate at the death of your friend. I wasn't prepared to meet half of the city's low-life and a bunch of mad monks fighting over stolen treasure else I'd have brought some men with me. I take it this is all connected to Drantaax's murder?"

  "It sure is. It's a complicated affair. I'll simplify it for you. These two groups of monks are rivals. Ixial the Seer is head of the Star Temple and Tresius is head of the Cloud Temple. They fought, partly about religion but mainly about who was to be number one chariot. Living up in the mountains drives them mad, I reckon. You remember how hot it was when we held off the Niojans at the pass?"

  "Never mind the Niojans at the pass. What happened with the monks?"

  "They fought, mainly. And then they split in two. Both temples found themselves missing a statue. Which gave Ixial the Seer a very good idea. He'd steal the new statue Drantaax was making for Turai to put him one up on Tresius and probably make the Cloud Temple monks return to the Star Temple. And then Sarin the Merciless, who used to be Ixial's student in the martial arts, came to Ixial with an even better idea. She knew Prefect Tholius back when she was bringing dwa into the city. He was taking a pay-off to look the other way, which is standard behaviour for officials in this city, yourself excepted of course. Whether the idea was Tholius's or Sarin's I don't know, but it occurred to one of them that the gold shipments from the King's mines passed by not too far from Ixial's monastery.

  "These ship
ments are a well-kept secret. The routes and timings are only ever discussed in magic-proof rooms lined with Red Elvish Cloth, but Prefect Tholius obviously has connections at the Palace and learned when the next one was due. He gave the details to Sarin, who passed them on to Ixial. So the Star Temple robbed the convoy, slaughtering the guards in the process.

  "Then came their very good idea. Instead of disappearing into the hills with the gold where they'd have been tracked soon enough by Palace Sorcerers, they brought the gold straight to Turai and hid it inside the new statue. You realise how safe that was?"

  "Yes," says the Captain, who is a smart guy. "No Sorcerer would check inside a statue of Saint Quatinius. It would be blasphemous."

  "Right. The plan was to leave it there till the statue was taken out to the shrine. When the heat died down Ixial would steal it from the shrine, cut it open and take out the loot. Once he put it back together he'd have a nice pile of gold as well as a new statue. I guess he wasn't too worried about blasphemy.

  "Which is where things went wrong. The Venerable Tresius had a spy in the Star Temple and he discovered what was going on and ever since then he's been after the gold and the statue for himself. The Cloud Temple made a full-scale attack on the Star Temple during which Ixial was nearly killed. He had to come to the city to get healed. By now Tresius had learned the gold was in Turai and probably in Drantaax's statue. He arrived too late to intercept it so he hired me to find it. I didn't realise that Saint Quatinius was full of gold though I knew something strange was going on."

  I gaze over the river. The monks are looking back at us. Do they believe they are furthering their religion with this behaviour? Probably, if Ixial and Tresius tell them they are. A flock of silver birds flies overhead, turning gold and then white in front of our eyes. Heavenly music floats down from the sky. Fluffy rabbits emerge to play around our feet. It's cutesy time in the magic space.

  "What really went wrong for Ixial and Tholius was getting involved with Sarin the Merciless. As soon as the gold was inside the statue and Ixial was lying crippled in the mountains she decided that it would be much better if she didn't have to share it around too much.

  "She's a clever woman, Sarin the Merciless. Totally heartless, but sharp as an Elf's ear nonetheless. She knew that Sorcerers from the Palace and the Abode of Justice were looking for the gold. Old Hasius the Brilliant himself had been down to Drantaax's house. She couldn't load the statue on a wagon and ride out of town. She'd have been spotted right away. So she hunted around for some way of getting the gold safely away. And she hit on the notion of a magic purse. Rare items indeed, but she knew where to find one, thanks to her dwa-dealing days. She remembered that old Thalius Green Eye, who wasn't much use for Sorcery any more, was taking dwa up to the Palace in a magic purse. So she went and killed him, and stole it. And then, I think, she stole the statue, leaving some yellow flower petals to put Investigators off the scent. The Cloud Temple wear yellow flowers for ceremonial reasons. I guess that was her idea of a joke.

  "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.