Thraxas and the Ice Dragon t-9 Page 5
«Of course he isn't listening,» says Makri. «He's dreaming about his betting campaign now I've entered the tournament.»
She's right. I can sense prosperous times ahead. Makri is going to sweep all opposition before her. If I can just raise a stake, I'll show these Samsarinan bookmakers a thing or two.
Chapter Eight
As we approach Arichdamis's house, Baroness Demelzos passes by on the other side of the road, in the company of two other well dressed women, both Baronesses, according to Lisutaris. Demelzos notices us, but barely acknowledges our presence.
«That was quite rude,» says Lisutaris. «Only a few hours ago we were sharing the same mineral bath.»
«But Thraxas wasn't there then,» Makri points out.
«True. You can't expect her to stop for a chat when Thraxas is around. There's no knowing what he might come out with.»
I ignore their mockery. It's the first time I've seen the Baroness since our unfortunate encounter in Orosis. Now I'm sober, Demelzos reminds me of someone, but I can't remember who.
Arichdamis's dwelling is far more modest than those of the Barons.
«I thought he'd have a bigger house,» says Makri.
«Probably he just sits and thinks most of the time.» I suggest. «No real need for a lot of space.»
Makri looks at me with contempt. «You have no idea of the extensive scientific interests of Arichdamis, have you?»
«No. And if you're about to tell me about them, don't bother.»
By this time Lisutaris is pulling on the chain by the door, ringing a bell inside. An elderly servant appears.
«Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, here to see Arichdamis on important business.» She sweeps past without waiting for an answer. The servant, displeased at this breach of etiquette, attempts to block her way. I hold him back, not wanting to see him reduced to a pile of ashes, which is quite likely if he gets in-between Lisutaris and a bag of thazis. The Sorceress disappears rapidly through the door at the end of the hallway. Makri hurries after her, and the servant follows them, leaving me on my own. The hallway is slightly seedy. Not decrepit, just neglected. Arichdamis obviously isn't a stickler for cleanliness and I doubt his servants do more than they have to. I glance into his private temple, in the middle of the house. It's bare, with only a small statue of Saint Quatinius. From the dust on the floor, I'd say that Arichdamis doesn't visit much. The next room is crammed full of books and papers. The desk is cluttered with drawings, plans for strange machines. As I stroll through the house I see nothing that's well-upholstered, colourful or cheerful. Just some functional furniture and a lot of books and papers. It's like a gigantic version of Makri's room back in Turai.
I find Lisutaris sitting on the grass behind the house, smoking thazis. It says something for her powers of persuasion that she managed to obtain the drug from the mathematician so quickly. Presumably, he wouldn't have been that keen to hand it over, but here she is, digging into his supply already. Arichdamis is talking quite intently to Makri.
«Yes, I've calculated pi to a value between three and one-seventh, and three and ten seventy-firsts.»
Makri looks excited. «Really? That's so accurate! Can I see your calculations?»
I leave them to it, and take a seat on the grass beside Lisutaris. I hold out my hand. She hands over a small fragment of thazis.
«Nice grounds,» I mutter. They are extensive, given that the house itself isn't large. They stretch a long way back, ending in a wooded slope that rises into the mountains. Lisutaris grunts, a sound I interpret to mean she doesn't care if the grounds are nice or not. I roll myself a small thazis stick and light it from hers. It's peaceful here in the garden; probably the first time we've been at peace since our city fell. We sit in silence for a long time. A few rays of sunlight penetrate the clouds overhead. It will soon be spring.
«Plants will start growing,» I mutter.
«Yes,» says Lisutaris.
«And we'll be marching off to war.»
«True.»
«I wonder how many times I've marched off to war?»
«There's a small dragon walking down the hill,» says Lisutaris.
This seems like an odd reply. «Eh… I'm not much good on symbolism. Does the small dragon represent us or the Orcs?»
«It doesn't represent anything. There really is a small dragon walking down the hill.»
I glance round, and immediately leap to my feet in alarm. As accurately reported by Lisutaris, a small dragon is ambling down the hill towards us. It's white, about the size of a very large dog, and it has a lot of teeth and talons. It makes straight for Makri and Arichdamis. I shout a warning. Makri catches sight of it and flies into action. She draws her twin swords, sinks into her fighting crouch and gets ready to defend herself. It takes me only a few seconds to reach her and I draw my own sword, ready to fight off the beast.
The dragon draws near to Makri, rolls on its back, then sort of wriggles towards her and starts licking her ankles. Makri looks down at it suspiciously.
«What is this vile beast?» she demands. «And why is it licking my ankles?»
«It's the King's baby ice dragon,» says Arichdamis. «I'm looking after it.»
«Why?»
«It's a scientific project. They've hardly ever been raised in captivity.»
«All right. But what about the ankle licking?»
«Maybe it thinks you're its mother?» I suggest.
Makri scowls. «I think I'm going to stab it.» She raises her sword.
«No!» yells Arichdamis. «This dragon is very important to the King! It mustn't be harmed!»
Although Arichdamis is keen to protect the young dragon, it doesn't actually seem that keen on him. When he puts his hands on its tail, attempting to drag it away from Makri, it turns its head towards him and growls, quite ferociously, before once more returning to Makri's ankles.
Arichdamis looks puzzled. «I've never seen this behaviour before. Tell me, Makri, have you experience in looking after dragons?»
«Certainly not.»
«It's odd. He certainly seems to take to you.»
Makri is not looking pleased, and keeps trying to back away from the beast, which, however, doesn't want to let her go.
«Could you try this?» asks Arichdamis. He reaches down and attempts to stroke the dragon's head. The dragon lets out a fierce roar and bares its teeth. Makri sheathes one of her swords and reaches down. She gives the baby dragon a brief pat on the head. The dragon lets out a noise which, while not exactly pleasant, might be described as purring. Arichdamis looks delighted.
«This is splendid! You've no idea the trouble we've had keeping him happy. It's been almost impossible to get him to eat. I've been worried he might just die, and I can't tell you how much trouble that would cause me. But now you've come along, everything will be different.»
Not liking the way this conversation is going, Makri narrows her eyes. «What do you mean?»
«You must help me care for the dragon. You'll have him eating again in no time.»
«Completely out of the question,» says Makri, raising her voice. «I've got a sword-fighting competition to win, a Sorcerer to protect and a city to take back from the Orcs. I can't waste time looking after baby dragons.» Maki glares down at the beast. «I don't even like baby dragons.»
«But you have to help,» pleads our host. «I've been at my wit's end. I'm sure the King will be most grateful.»
At that moment a procession marches round the side of the house, made up of eighteen soldiers, three Sorcerers, three Barons, several officials and King Gardos. It's the first time I've seen the young King, but he's easily recognisable from the discreet gold circlet on his head. Arichdamis bows low. He doesn't seem surprised at their arrival, so I presume it's not the first time the King has marched into his grounds without knocking at the door. The King pays no attention to Arichdamis, choosing instead to glare at Makri.
«What is happening here?» he demands. «What are you doing with my dragon?»
>
«Your majesty,» exclaims Arichdamis, surfacing from his bow. «A remarkable occurrence. This woman has the power to soothe and comfort the dragon.»
The King's scowl slowly fades at the sight of the small dragon playing at Makri's feet. «Astonishing!» he says. «Who is this young woman?»
«Makri, your majesty. Bodyguard to Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky.»
The King's brow furrows slightly as he further examines Makri. «Is she an Orc?»
«Partially, I believe,» says Arichdamis. «But she is very good with the dragon.»
«We shall see,» says the King. «Bring forth the meat.»
At the King's command a member of the royal household removes the lid of a silver platter to reveal a joint of raw meat.
«Feed the dragon,» commands the King.
The attendant edges forward nervously. He holds out the meat, trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the creature. As soon as he comes near, the small white dragon starts snarling at him. He retreats rapidly. The King looks at Makri.
«Partially Orcish woman. Try feeding my dragon.»
I'm concerned that Makri, being uncivilised, unused to monarchs, and never pleased to be described as an Orc, might refuse to co-operate. Fortunately she does seem to grasp that you can't go around being rude to a King when you're a refugee in his country. She shrugs, picks up the meat and thrusts it at the dragon.
«Eat this you beast.»
The dragon leaps for the venison and gobbles it down immediately. There's a collective gasp from the procession at the sight of the dragon feasting happily. When it's finished the meat, it again snuggles down around Makri's ankles. King Gardos turns to one of his counsellors, the most important one, I'd guess, from the gilded insignia on his cloak.
«This woman must look after my dragon. Organise matters so that she has whatever she needs.»
Chapter Nine
A few hours later, back in Kublinos's mansion to pack up our meagre belongings, Makri is complaining. «I don't want to look after a dragon.»
«Look on the bright side,» I say. «We all get to move into Arichdamis's house which is a lot better than this servant's attic. You've got plenty of space to practise your sword fighting and Lisutaris can smoke thazis till her heart's content.»
«It's certainly fortuitous,» agrees Lisutaris. «As long as you can keep that dragon happy I'll be in good standing with the King. And there's the tournament too. If you can win that it'll really boost my status.»
Makri frowns. «How is that everything seems to be resting on my shoulders?»
«Just the way things work out,» says Lisutaris, amiably.
Makri continues to grumble. I point out that it won't be that hard looking after the dragon. «Just tickle it behind the ear and throw some meat at it. It can't be that hard.»
«He tried to bit your hand off.»
It's true. The creature did not take kindly to being stroked by me. I was fortunate to escape with my fingers still attached. It doesn't seem to like anyone except Makri. It's a strange phenomenon, though one I have encountered before. When we visited the Fairy Glade together, the centaurs, fairies, and assorted other magical creatures all seemed keen on Makri.
«What if its mother comes back?» says Makri.
We fall silent, thinking about the huge white dragon that flew overhead while we were sailing up the river. While we don't have any proof that it was our dragon's mother, it seems likely. According to Arichdamis, the baby dragon was found, as an egg, by a scientific expedition to the furthest reaches of the mountains in north. They handed it over to the King, who then gave it to Arichdamis with the instructions to rear it. Possibly he has some scheme to be the first western monarch to control dragons. It seems like a foolish endeavour to me. The King of Turai once had a dragon in his zoo, and that ended very badly.
«What's the idea of telling the King you're my manager?» continues Makri.
«I had to say that. I wasn't going to be left behind in this attic. Anyway, it's true enough. If you're entering the tournament you'll need someone to look after your affairs. I can do that. Which brings us to our first problem; money. There's the entrance fee, and you'll need weapons and armour, which aren't cheap. Lisutaris, can you help?»
The Sorceress shakes her head. She's still living on charity from Kublinos. «I can't ask him for any more.»
«Why not?»
«It would be demeaning.»
«So?»
«It's hardly going to increase my status if people know I've been begging money to buy armour for my bodyguard, is it?»
«I suppose not. Well, I'll have to think of something. There's the gambling to consider as well.»
Lisutaris nods sagely. «Of course, we must bet on Makri. If only I could earn something. Would it affect my status if I took on some private work?»
«Yes it would,» declares Makri. «You're Head of the Guild. You can't be casting horoscopes to raise cash. Thraxas, if you're betting on me I want a fair share of the winnings. And none of your outlandish, risk-filled gambles either. I want a solid, practical betting strategy.»
I smile. As I said, Makri is nowhere near as averse to gambling as she pretends. «Have I ever let you down?»
«Almost continually.»
It strikes me that I could probably earn money in Elath. «There has to be some crime going on here, with Barons, sword-fighters and assorted gamblers in town. Perhaps I could find something that needs investigating.»
Lisutaris stands up and cranes her neck to examine herself in the tiny mirror on the attic wall. «There's something wrong with this dress,» she mutters. «The clasp at the neck isn't fastening properly.»
Makri stands behind Lisutaris and attempts to rectify the situation, but quickly becomes frustrated. «I can't close it. How does it work?'»
I raise my eyes to heaven. If you're having problems in the female costuming department, Makri is never going to be any help.
«Step aside and let a civilised Turanian look at it,» I say, and brush Makri aside. «The clasp is jammed.»
«We know that already,» says Lisutaris.
«Let me try again,» says Makri.
«What with? Your axe? Not every problem can be solved by violence.»
I take hold of the clasp and give it a tug. Nothing happens. I pull it harder. The clasp rips right out of the dress which then flops down around Lisutaris's waist. Makri bursts out laughing. At this moment Kublinos walks into the room. Seeing Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, with her dress around her waist, he looks surprised.
«What is… eh…?»
«Come Makri, let's go to my room and see if we can repair the damage,» says Lisutaris. They disappear. Kublinos looks at me very suspiciously.
«What was that all about?»
«Just a little clothing problem.»
«Was it you who ripped Lisutaris's dress?»
«Accidentally.»
His eyes narrow. «I have to say, Thraxas, your attempts to win the favour of Lisutaris are quite inappropriate. Apart from your unsuitable character, there's the difference in class to be considered.»
Before I can protest, he rushes on.
«Just because you rescued Lisutaris — or claim to have — doesn't give you the right to inflict yourself on her. I've seen the way you operate and I don't like it at all.»
Faced with an angry and apparently insane Sorcerer, I'm starting to think it's a good thing I'm wearing a powerful spell protection necklace. Kublinos's idea that I'm somehow trying attach myself to Lisutaris is so ridiculous I barely know how to answer.
«You're forever whispering in her ear, trying to worm your way into her affections. No doubt you persuaded her to move with you to Arichdamis's house so you can carry on your deceitful campaign unhindered.» He leans towards me. «I'm warning you Thraxas, I've got plenty of spells just waiting to be used on any shameless adventurer with his eyes on Lisutaris's fortune.»
There's no telling how this might end, but we're interrupted
by the arrival of a servant. Apparently I'm wanted downstairs. I depart immediately, grateful for the interruption. There I find another servant, a young man wearing a fancy tunic with an unnecessary amount of gold braid.
«Thraxas? Baroness Demelzos wishes to see you.»
This takes me by surprise. I'd have guessed she'd happily live out her life without ever seeing me again. I shrug, and follow the servant into the narrow streets that separate the Baronial dwellings of Elath. Every few steps we pass by some richly attired group of aristocrats. Rarely can so many lords and Barons have been crammed together in such a small space. The servant stops in front of a smart carriage, with two horses in front and dark curtains on the windows. The servant checks the street to make sure no one's looking at us.
«In there,» he says.
The door opens. I step inside. It's a plush carriage, upholstered in purple with silver trimmings. Inside is Baroness Demelzos.
«Please shut the door.»
I do as she says, then take a seat opposite her. We sit in silence for a few minutes.
«Nice carriage,» I say, eventually.
She looks irritated. «You have no manners, have you?»
«Not many.»
«You never did have.»
I raise an eyebrow. «Have we met?»
«You mean before you mistook me for a serving wench in Orosis?»
Baroness Demelzos looks more irritated. I'm starting to wonder if she just got me here so she could have someone to be irritated at.
«Why were you so appallingly rude? And drunk?»
«I'd just come off an eight-day stint in a boat with no sails. Before that I'd been chased out my city by Orcs. I felt I deserved a beer or two.»
«You always did drink too much. Even as a young man you had a problem.» Baroness Demelzos leans over slightly and fixes me with an unfriendly stare. «I never expected you to treasure my memory, Thraxas, but I didn't think you'd completely forget me.»