Thraxas of Turai Page 4

  ‘We can talk here in private,’ he says.

  ‘That’s fine. Though I’ll need to talk to the rest of the men as well.’

  The Lieutenant looks apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, that wont be possible. My orders are that only I can talk to you.’

  ‘My orders are to investigate Captain Istaros’ death. I’ll need to talk to the squadron.’

  ‘That won’t be possible.’ Lieutenant Namchus is polite but unwavering. I don’t like it, but don’t protest. I’ll protest if it becomes necessary.

  ‘When was the last time you saw Istaros?’

  ‘Shortly after we’d eaten. Captain Istaros and I discussed the day’s events together, informally, as we always did, before evening prayer call.’

  ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘The Captain left our encampment to visit friends.’

  ‘You mean to attend the card game.’

  The Niojan lieutenant looks pained. ‘So people have said. I don’t believe he was participating in any such thing.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ”Captain Istaros was not a gambler.’

  ‘I saw him there myself,’ I tell him.

  ‘There could have been other reasons he was there.’

  ‘Are you telling me Niojan Captains aren’t allowed to join in Simnian card games?’

  ‘It’s not prohibited. It is discouraged. I don’t believe Captain Istaros engaged in gambling.’

  Probably he concealed his liking for gambling from his unit. Maybe from his superiors too. He wouldn’t be the only Niojan soldier to have done that.

  ‘Did he have any enemies?’

  ‘No. Captain Istaros was an fine soldier, respected by all.’

  I’m dissatisfied by the lieutenant’s answers. It sounds like he’s simply giving me a prepared response telling me how respectable the Captain was. ‘What about Major Magranos, the Samsarinan who was killed the same night? Did he know Captain Istaros?’

  ‘I never heard Captain Istaros mention him.’

  ‘Can you think of any reason that Magranos might have been in your encampment?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Isn’t it strange that two murders were carried out in your camp and none of your guards saw or heard anything?’

  My questioning, having not proceeded very far, is abruptly cut short by the dragon alarm. This signal, a repetitive burst of trumpet notes, is familiar to everyone in the army. It’s been drilled into us. At the signal, you take cover while the sorcerers provide a shield over the camp. I leave the tent without too much concern, presuming it’s another drill, then look up to find a very large dragon hurtling out of the sky. I watch as it opens its great jaws and roars, drowning out the sound of the trumpets. I start to run, along with the Niojans around me. I risk glancing back over my shoulder. The dragon comes to an abrupt halt, striking something invisible and actually bouncing back a few metres in the sky. The air above begins to glow as the defence provided by our sorcerers gathers strength. Sorcerers have been stationed around the perimeter for just such an emergency and they’ve practiced their response many times. The sky turns purple as a great protective dome covers the entire encampment, repelling the dragons. It’s quite a sight. Impressive but unnerving, standing underneath, unable to take action, while the hostile dragons rend and batter at the barrier, roaring with frustration as they find themselves unable to penetrate. On the plus side, and it’s a big plus, our barrier is keeping out the dragons. On the negative side, we can’t attack them while it’s in pace. Some arrows are launched by ill-disciplined troops who’ve forgotten their orders but it’s a futile effort. The arrows clatter against the magic barrier and fall back to earth. Neither can our own spells penetrate the shield. It stands above us, an impenetrable arc.

  I’m gripping my sword tightly. Around me the Niojan troops have formed into squadrons and stand with their spears and pikes raised, the older ones looking grim, the younger one nervous. Finally the test of our endurance comes to an end. The dragons rear upwards and head east, back towards Turai. A wave of relief runs through the camp. The barrier remains in place for some time after they’ve gone. How long Lisutaris’s sorcerers can maintain it is a military secret. As I make my way back to my wagon I’m thoughtful, and troubled. Our sorcerers held off these dragons but we’re still some way from Turai. We’re not yet in range of the full might of Orcish sorcerous power. When we reach Turai we’re planning on laying siege to the city while digging our way in. Our sorcerers are going to have to protect us from aerial assault while also projecting some sort of additional protective field over the trench, all the way to the city walls. I hope Arichdamis has his calculations right. Otherwise, I can foresee a lot of dead miners.

  Chapter Five

  I eat my evening meal with the Turanian section of the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment, in the company of Gurd and Tanrose. Tanrose’s cooking at the Avenging Axe was one of the few things that made life in Turai bearable. Her expertise also extends to producing excellent food on the move, so I eat with them as often as I can. Tanrose doesn’t have access to the right sort of oven to make her famous pies, but she’s still able to produce the finest stew, roast yams and assorted vegetables. She even manages to produce a decent version of her lemon cake, in a pan over the fire. It heartens me that Gurd had the good sense to ask her to marry him. The aging barbarian needed my encouragement, being too unused to the ways of romance to get it done on his own. I was pleased to help. Otherwise Tanrose and her cooking skills might have been poached by a competitor, something I couldn’t allow. Recently Gurd told me they were planning on producing a baby. I’m happy for them, providing I don’t have to talk about it. Fortunately, today’s dragon attack is the only topic of conversation around the campfire. Those who’ve never been to war were unnerved by the sight of the huge beasts. Those who’ve experienced them before take heart from the way our sorcerers repelled them.

  ‘Lisutaris has them well organised,’ I say. ‘Best defensive shield I’ve ever seen, put up at short notice.’

  Gurd agrees, but points out that it wasn’t a full-scale attack. ‘Only twelve dragons or so, more like an expedition to check our defences.’

  ‘True, but Amrag will know he can’t chase us off easily now.’

  Gurd still has doubts. ‘We’re going to end up outside the city walls with every dragon in the east hovering overhead. One mistake by the sorcerers and we’re done for. What happens when we get into the city? Lisutaris won’t be able to keep the shield in place when we’re fighting in the streets.’

  ‘I suppose she has some plan. We have to get into the city first. That’s going to be difficult enough, with the trench, and Arichdamis doing mathematics to help the sorcery, or whatever it was.’

  ‘I hear Makri’s helping Arichdamis,’ says Tanrose.

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘Really? I wonder why she didn’t tell me that?’

  ‘Probably because you always make fun of Arichdamis and his mathematics. And Makri and her mathematics.’

  ‘I may have made the odd flippant comment.’ I’m feeling genial as I load up with another bowl of stew, deftly grabbing the last roasted yam before anyone else can lay their hands on it. My mood dissipates as Captain Hanama appears. Our War Leader’s Head of Intelligence is about as welcome as an Orc at an Elvish wedding while I’m eating my dinner.

  ‘Captain Thraxas.’ Hanama is softly spoken. I’ve never liked it. ‘I need a word with you in private.’

  I’m scowling as I haul myself to my feet. Anything that brings Hanama here can only be bad news. We withdraw behind a row of tents where the flickering firelight casts our shadows on the canvas. My shadow is huge in comparison to Hanama’s.

  ‘You better have some good reason for disturbing my dinner.’

  Hanama regards me coldly. ‘My intelligence unit has learned something troubling concerning the murder of Major Magranos. Baron Vosanos has let it be known in private he suspects Makri was involved.’ Hanama
is studying me as I take this in. ‘You don’t seem surprised.’

  ‘It’s not unexpected. Makri did express a desire for revenge.’

  ‘Revenge? For what?’

  I give Hanama the details. ‘Magranos was most likely responsible for the death of the young woman Alceten, back in Samsarina. Makri didn’t like it that he wouldn’t be brought to justice.’

  ‘Did he actually kill Alceten?’

  ‘He probably arranged her murder. There was no proof. Even if there had been, he wouldn’t have been prosecuted. Magranos was acting on behalf of Baron Vosanos and Barons don’t get prosecuted for murder in Samsarina.’

  ‘We can’t allow Makri to be implicated in a murder. Have you any better suspects?’

  ‘What do you mean better? More likely to have done it? Or just more convenient to blame?’

  ‘Either,’ says Captain Hanama.

  I have no better suspects. I don’t have any suspects at all. Hanama isn’t satisfied. ‘Shouldn’t you have found out something by now?’

  ‘Stick to intelligence, Captain Hanama. Leave investigating to me.’

  ‘Why? Is there any proof you have a talent for it?’

  I stare icily at her. ‘I’m number one chariot at investigating.’

  ‘So you’ve been known to say. I’ve never heard anyone else agree. Makri cannot be arrested, Captain Thraxas. Not while she’s so closely associated with our Commander.’

  Hanama seems over-insistent about all this. She has been before, about Makri. I thank her tersely for her information then head back to the campfire. Tanrose has saved me a piece of lemon cake. I appreciate it though I’m troubled as I eat. I don’t like it that Makri’s name is being whispered in connection with Magranos’ death because I’m not certain she didn’t kill him. She might have, given the chance. Despite the excellence of Tanrose’s cooking, the evening ends on a gloomy note. Gurd’s platoon is running short of beer and can spare me only one bottle. It’s inadequate for a man of my appetites.

  ‘Sorry, Thraxas,’ says Gurd. ‘We’re being rationed. Quartermaster says we might run out soon.’

  I look at my empty flagon. ‘How are we meant to function without beer? Am I meant to storm the walls of Turai sober? Ridiculous notion. Who ever did that?’

  Gurd laughs. ‘Not you, that’s for sure.’

  On the way back to my wagon I’m pensive. It’s worrying news that there might be a beer shortage. It’s all very well for the Turanian quartermaster to tell us that shortages are inevitable in wartime, but I’m not convinced they tried hard enough. Anumaris is waiting for me beside the wagon. ‘I don’t think they put in enough effort,’ I tell her.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘The Turanian quartermasters. Yes, it’s wartime. And yes, they had to stock up in a foreign land after the city fell. But is that really an excuse for running out of beer before the campaign’s over? Did they try to avert this catastrophe? Did they examine all possible avenues? Probably not, with Lisutaris as Commander. Wouldn’t surprise me if she instructed them not to bring enough. I’m sure their wagons could have carried more beer.’

  ‘Perhaps they required storage space for weapons and armour.’

  ‘A flimsy excuse. I tell you Anumaris, it wouldn’t have happened in my day. The city’s been going downhill for years. No wonder the Orcs beat us. Well, I’m defeated. I can’t go on. I’m going to lie in my tent and think of the old days when generals had enough sense to bring enough beer for the army.’

  ‘But I have information,’ protests Anumaris, as I attempt to leave.

  ‘Is it about beer?’

  ‘No! It’s about the investigation!’ Anumaris raises her voice ‘Information you asked for. Information I strived to find out quickly.’

  ‘Right. I was forgetting. Well, let’s hear it.’

  Anumaris produces a rectangle of parchment, covered in her neat writing. ‘Captain Istaros, nephew of the King of Nioj, visited Elath in Samsarina for the swordfighting tournament. While there, he made enquiries about buying a plot of land to build a house. He was referred to Baron Vosanos, who had land to sell, and thereby met the Baron’s chief steward, Magranos, with whom he concluded the deal. The land was bought and paid for. As far as anyone is aware, there were no difficulties in what was a simple transaction. Some weeks later, Istaros and Magranos, now both members of their respective nation’s armies, became re-acquainted with each other. It’s not known how they met again, whether deliberately or by chance. However, it wasn’t a secret. They were observed together. So they did know each other, and their deaths could be connected, though they occurred some hours apart.’ Anumaris turns over the page. She has a lot of notes. ‘No one I talked to had noticed anything suspicious about either Istaros or Magranos, but I did learn there might have been some sort of incident in Elath.’

  ‘What sort of incident?’

  ‘One of the cooks told me he’d heard Captain Istaros was in a fight in Samsarina, and came back with a freshly healed wound. No one else knew anything about that.’

  That’s a lot of information, gathered in a short space of time. I congratulate Anumaris on her work. As I’m doing so, Rinderan appears. Unlike Anumaris, Rinderan’s appearance has changed over the course of the campaign. He’s no longer the neat young sorcerer he was when he arrived in my unit. His hair is longer, and tousled. The sword at his hip is slung a fraction lower, like the experienced fighters in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment. He’s swapped his rather fancy sorcerer’s rainbow cloak for a much more muted version which is slung back over his shoulders in a businesslike fashion. He might almost be described as dashing, though he’s not quite old enough to carry that off.

  ‘I made a discovery, Captain Thraxas.’ He takes out the badge Anumaris found. ‘This comes from the personal defence unit recruited by Bishop-General Ritari.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘A Niojan sorcerer who owes me a favour identified it for me. There aren’t many of them around, according to her. The Bishop-General gave them out to his unit. I’m not sure if they even wear them in public. It’s something of am unofficial unit.’

  I take the badge in my hands. ‘The personal defence unit of Bishop-General Ritari. What do you make of that?’

  ‘That Captain Istaros was a member of the unit?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I turn to Anumaris. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘He might have been. What if the killer dropped it? Could Bishop-General Ritari’s defence unit have been involved in the murder?’

  ‘Impossible to say. It might have been planted there to throw suspicion on them. Droo? Any ideas?’

  Droo has been sipping surreptitiously from a bottle of Elvish wine she’s obtained from somewhere. She doesn’t have any ideas. I sit down at the front of our wagon. At a moment like this I’d usually have some intuition as to what’s been going on. A feeling for where the badge came from. Unfortunately my intuition is telling me nothing.

  ‘So we have a badge found at the scene of Captain Istaros’s murder. Anumaris, find out if it belonged to Istaros, or someone else. What about the murder of Major Magranos? Any information regarding that?’

  Everyone looks blank. I expect I’m looking blank too. It’s not as if this is the most baffling case I’ve ever encountered but for some reason I can’t seem to get started. Anumaris looks up from her notes. ‘Captain Thraxas, was there any indication at the card game that Captain Istaros was in danger? Was he distracted?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’ My security unit is not impressed by my memory failure, though they don’t come right out and say it.

  ‘Did anything happen there that might shed some light on the murders?’

  ‘Not that I recall. Nothing unusual happened.’

  ‘You got into a fight,’ says Droo.

  ‘As I said, nothing unusual.’ I shake my head. I need to be able to nose around a crime scene to get an idea of what’s been happening. Trying to solve crime at a distance is a ne
w experience. I don’t like it.

  ‘Are we sure Major Magranos didn’t visit the card game?’ asks Rinderan. Everyone looks at me.

  ‘I’m fairly sure he wasn’t there. I wouldn’t bet the kingdom on it.’

  ‘I hear Makri’s a suspect,’ says Droo, alarmingly.

  ‘What? Where did you hear that?’

  ‘From an Elf in the intelligence unit.’

  ‘Damn that intelligence unit! Hanama’s people are probably blabbing to everyone.’

  Anumaris asks why Makri would be a suspect. I tell her about Makri’s threats, back in Samsarina, and Baron Vosanos’s suspicions.

  ‘Did Makri threaten him in public?’

  ‘I thought she’d only mentioned it to me and Lisutaris. I don’t know how word got out. Maybe she did mention it to someone else. It’s bad. We cant have our War Leader’s bodyguard suspected of murdering a Samsarinan officer, no matter how much he deserved it.’ I take a sip from Droo’s wine. It’s Elvish, not one of their finest bottles but not bad at that.

  ‘I have more bad news,’ says Anumaris. ‘The Niojan intelligence officer, Major Stranachus. He’s suspicious about the death of Legate Apiroi. He’s been asking questions.’

  My eyes narrow a fraction. ‘Why exactly would that be bad news?’

  ‘Because…’ Anumaris doesn’t complete the sentence.

  ‘Because we all think Commander Lisutaris and Captain Hanama were behind it,’ says Droo, brightly.

  ‘Never say that again!’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘It might be true but don’t say it. We can’t have the Niojans going off in a huff because our Commander got rid of their King’s senior representative.’