Thraxas at War Read online

  "So let them come on their dragons," says Makri as we walk downstairs to the bar. "I've killed dragons before."

  "You killed one dragon."

  "Well, if another one had come along I'd have killed that too."

  "We didn't kill that dragon in the Fairy Glade," I remind her.

  "That was a hefty beast," admits Makri. "But I chased it off."

  "What do you mean, you chased it off? I was there too."

  "You were ogling the naiads in the water."

  "Very humorous, Makri. I was chopping up a squadron of Orcs so you could get to the commander."

  The door of the Avenging Axe swings open and a messenger struggles in weighed down by an enormous bunch of flowers. He places them on the counter.

  "Delivery for Makri."

  The messenger departs. Makri looks at the card. She scowls, then sweeps the flowers on to the floor.

  "Horm again?" says Gurd, appearing from the storeroom. Makri nods, and looks annoyed. Gurd is troubled. When the Orcs are about to attack, no tavern owner wants to be receiving bunches of flowers from one of their leaders. People could get the wrong impression.

  "Why does he keep sending you flowers?" asks Gurd.

  Makri shrugs.

  "Did you encourage him in some way?"

  Makri is offended.

  "Of course I didn't encourage him! Thraxas, did I encourage Horm the Dead to send me flowers?"

  "Of course not. No encouragement at all. Though you did wander into my offices wearing your chainmail bikini while he was there. Maybe if you'd covered yourself up a bit better . . ."

  Ah," says Gurd, nodding his head. "The chainmail bikini."

  "Which has been getting smaller and smaller in recent months . .."

  "I need to earn tips!" exclaims Makri. "You know how much it costs at the College!"

  "I suppose there's some truth in that. Though it doesn't entirely explain why you were flaunting yourself at a foreign Sorcerer who was not, as far as I remember, buying drinks at the time."

  "This is outrageous," says Makri. "I was not flaunting myself."

  "Well, you know," I say, "a mad half-Ore Sorcerer spends all his time in the wastelands surrounded by stone-faced troll-girls and when he arrives in Turai the first thing he sees is you sauntering around practically naked, it's bound to have an effect. He'd only met you for about a minute when he was offering you a position."

  Gurd laughs.

  "What position was that?"

  "Captain of his Armies," says Makri, not sounding at all amused.

  And he called you the finest flower in all of Turai, I remember. Which might explain the flower motif. Probably since he left Turai he's spent all his time languishing in his mountain palace or wherever he lives, thinking about you."

  Having now had enough of this, Makri turns on her heel and departs in a bad mood, leaving a few Orcish curses in her wake. I'm just taking a jar of ale from Gurd when the door opens again and Tanrose walks in. I'm about to rush and embrace her - something I can't remember doing for a good many years - but Gurd beats me to it.

  Thinking it best to leave them in peace, I pause only long enough to mention to Tanrose that I really would enjoy one of her substantial venison pies for dinner tonight, and maybe a lemon tart for dessert, before heading upstairs to my office. I sweep some junk off the couch prior to lying down for an afternoon sleep. Unfortunately, as is so often the case when I'm headed for the couch, some damned client knocks on the door. I haul it open and make ready to repel visitors. I'm faced with a plump, well-dressed middle-aged woman who's accompanied by a brawny young man, a servant from his attire.

  "May I come in?" asks the woman in a voice so refined she could cut glass with it.

  "If you must."

  I welcome them in, if allowing them to find their way through the mess on the floor while scowling roundly at them could be called a welcome. What does this Senator's wife want with me? She settles down quite gracefully on the chair in front of my desk.

  "I wish to hire you," she says.

  "What for?"

  "To clear my husband's name."

  "What's he accused of?"

  "Murdering Prefect Galwinius."

  There's a brief pause while I digest this.

  “And your husband is?"

  "Senator Lodius."

  I rise to my feet and point to the door.

  "Can't do it. Try the Venarius agency uptown. They're more your sort of people."

  The woman remains seated. She looks unruffled, which makes me feel foolish.

  "You are an Investigator for hire, are you not?"

  "I am. And your husband blackmailed me last year. And called me a low-life piece of scum."

  "Did he really say that? It doesn't sound like my husband."

  I admit he might not have used those exact words.

  "But he implied it."

  She wrinkles her brow just a little.

  "Oh. I see. When you were recommended to me as a competent Investigator - and a man who'd fought in the war -1 did not expect you to be so sensitive."

  I'm not sensitive. I'm insulted. And I'm sensitive. Thanks to your husband I had to prevent an eviction."

  "Prevent an eviction? Was this unjust?"

  "Well—'

  I halt. I sit down.

  "Possibly not, from the tenants' point of view. But it meant going against Praetor Capatius and it got me in a load of trouble."

  Trouble which hasn't gone away yet. That was the start of the accusations against me. It's fatal to become embroiled in the politics of Turai. Lodius forced me into it.

  "Has he been arrested?"

  "He will be very shortly. I received a message."

  And Senator Lodius sent you here to hire me?"

  She shakes her head. It wasn't her husband who suggested it.

  "Deputy Consul Cicerius recommended you. It was he who sent the message."

  This takes me by surprise. I've done some good work for the Deputy Consul in the past year. He's never shown much sign of appreciating it. I didn't know I'd risen enough in his estimation for him to be recommending me. And it's doubly strange, because Cicerius is also a bitter enemy of Lodius.

  "Cicerius? Why would he try to help your husband?"

  She shakes her head. She doesn't know.

  "What did he say? Try Thraxas, he's a drunken disgrace to the city but he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty?"

  "He was a good deal politer than that."

  The woman's facade slips a little, though she's not exactly close to tears. Upper-class women rarely cry about important matters; it would show bad breeding. On the other hand, they may weep profusely if the hairdresser is late.

  I don't want to take on the case. Not only do I dislike Senator Lodius, I've a lot on my plate right now. Besides, with the Orcs planning an attack, the city's liable to be razed to the ground in a few months' time. Then who's going to care who killed the Prefect? Still, I hate to see a murderer go unpunished. If the Civil Guards and Palace Security fail to catch the killer, he'll be walking around free, and that never sits right. If I take on the case and clear Lodius, it'll probably mean finding the real murderer. That, I suppose, would be good. But then I'd find myself on the wrong side of the city authorities and the King, who despise Lodius. That would be bad. I try to weigh things up but I'm drowsy from beer and tired from walking round Twelve Seas.

  "I saw your husband hand food to Galwinius. Right after that Galwinius dropped down dead. It doesn't look so good for him."

  "My husband did not kill the Prefect," says his wife, emphatically. "No matter what the Sorcerers at Palace Security say."

  "The Sorcerers say he did?"

  "I believe they are about to. An arrest warrant is being written as we speak."

  "Then Lodius is doomed."

  "My husband is not doomed."

  "He is. If the Sorcerers have fingered him, he's doomed. Sorry, lady, just because he's a rich Senator doesn't mean he doesn't have to suffer for his
crimes."

  The woman looks at me coldly. She rises to her feet and speaks to her servant.

  "Come. This man is not the person to help us. Deputy Consul Cicerius has misinformed us about his abilities."

  She turns away in a dignified manner.

  "I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

  They walk to the door and leave via the staircase to the street below. I let them go, then take a hefty slug from my new bottle of klee. I'm annoyed. Usually when I give the brush-off to some unwanted client, they rant for a while, and insult me. Call me fat, or drunk, or cowardly, or something. They don't just apologise for wasting my time and walk out in a dignified manner. The more I think about it, the more annoying it becomes. Who does that woman think she is to just walk in here, be insulted by me, then leave in a dignified manner?

  I cross swiftly to the door and haul it open again. At the foot of the stairs the servant is still helping his mistress into the carriage.

  "Okay, I'll take the damned case," I yell at her.

  She raises her eyes towards me.

  "Good," she says, simply. "Would you like to visit my house to learn more of the matter? Perhaps later this evening?"

  I nod, then slam the door. Makri chooses this moment to walk in.

  "So you're taking the case?" she says. "Is Lodius innocent?"

  "How do you know so much about it?"

  "I was listening at the door. So? Is he innocent?"

  "I've no idea. But now I have to find out. Damn it, I didn't want to have to work for Senator Lodius. I hate Lodius."

  "Then why did you take it on?"

  "His wife tricked me by behaving in a dignified manner."

  "The calculating bitch," says Makri. "There's no way you could stand up to that."

  "You said it. Now I'm going to be defending the person the whole city will think murdered Galwinius. Probably at the instigation of the Orcs. The news-sheets will be down on me like a bad spell. Why is it I always get the really bad cases?"

  "Well," says Makri, thoughtfully. "You live in quite a bad part of town. Probably most of the better cases go to the high-class Investigators in Thamlin. And you drink a lot, which might put some of the more respectable clients off, and you're known to have a really bad temper, which again is off-putting for a lot of people. Also you've got quite a serious gambling problem so I suppose some people might think you're not really a trustworthy person to give money to. You've been thrown in prison quite a few times, you were denounced in the Senate and you've been regularly criticised in the news-sheets, including one really comprehensive report which included not only the time you were hauled before a magistrate for stealing a loaf of bread but also the time you tried to steal wine from the church in Quintessence Lane. You were sacked from your job at the Palace, your wife ran off, and you sometimes turn up to meet clients after smoking far too much thazis, which hardly gives a good impression, and didn't you once—'

  "Makri, will you shut up. It was a rhetorical question."

  "I'm just explaining why—'

  "Fine. I get the picture. Why don't you go downstairs and see if any Ore Sorcerers have been sending you flowers? I need to sleep."

  Also, you sleep on the couch when you should be working."

  Makri departs. To hell with her. One day that woman will push my endurance past its limit. I drink more klee and fall asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  I waken to the notion that I should be getting on with something. I've forgotten what. I'm splashing water on my face when I remember I've just been hired by the wife of Senator Lodius. It's one of the biggest criminal cases in the history of Turai. I guess I should be pleased to be involved. I'm not, and not just because I'm going to have to miss out on Tanrose's cooking for another few hours.

  I curse out loud. Of all the assorted aristocrats who've ever looked down their noses at me, Lodius is one of the worst. In normal circumstances he wouldn't let me in his house. No doubt he laughed when I was booted out of my job at the Palace. The senatorial class have always had it in for me. Senators, Prefects, Consuls, I loathe them all. I put my life on the line for this city. What did they do in the Ore War? Hid in their villas, probably, while poor men like me did all the fighting. And did we get any thanks after the war? We didn't. I detest them.

  I put my sword on my hip, place a spell in my memory in case of emergencies, and head downstairs for a final beer before setting off. Makri has finished her shift and wants to know where I'm going.

  "To see Lodius's wife."

  "I want to come."

  "Why?"

  "Gurd and Tanrose are having this intense conversation and it's making me uncomfortable. And Dandelion is being really irritatingly happy about them getting back together. She's talking about the stars smiling in the heavens and I can't take it any more."

  I'm about to tell Makri that she can't accompany me because I'm about to visit the house of a Senator and Makri, with her Orcish blood, won't really be welcome, but I stop myself. Why should I put myself out just to please some Senator's wife? Apart from when she's being the most aggravating person in the city, Makri's my friend. One of the very few friends I have. She can come if she wants. Do them good in Thamlin to see how the other half lives, I pick up another bottle of klee from behind the bar. Dandelion hands it over with a frown. She's possibly the only barmaid in Turai who doesn't really approve of drinking. Makri puts on her man's tunic, fits two swords at her hips, a knife in her boot and wonders if she should bring her axe.

  "We're not going to fight a dragon, we're going to interview a Senator's wife."

  "That's what you always say. And then something bad happens and I really need my axe."

  "Believe me, no axe is necessary."

  Makri looks a little unhappy.

  "You just don't like walking down the street with a woman with an axe."

  It's not long till nightfall. Unless we want to walk to Thamlin, we'll have to catch a landus quickly. Riding is forbidden in Turai after dark. We find one at the foot of Moon and Stars Boulevard. I tell the driver our destination and sip from my bottle of klee as we trot over the river. Makri lights a thazis stick. Thazis is still technically illegal, but with the influx of dwa, a much more serious drug, the authorities have given up caring about it. The driver wants to talk about the imminent attack from the Orcs. We remain silent but it doesn't put him off.

  "The end for Turai, I reckon," he says. "We can't fight them again. Where's our army going to come from? Half the young men in the city are off their heads on dwa. Half the Senators too. I heard that General Lamisius got thrown out of the army last week for selling the stuff to his men. And there's nothing in the armoury; the Brotherhood and the Society of Friends sold all our weapons long ago. And who's going to come to our assistance? The Simnians? No chance. They'll sit at home while we get butchered. And I can't see the Elves sailing up again. Why would they? They've got problems of their own, and anyway, I don't think the Elves have really got the stomach for another war. What does that leave us with? Nioj? There's no way they're going to help us; those northern pigs would probably laugh if the Orcs destroyed us. Which leaves us the League of City States, and what's that worth these days? The League's been in chaos longer than anyone can remember. You think they're going to be able to raise an army? That's about as likely as sunshine in the underworld. We're doomed and everyone knows it. As soon as winter's over I'm taking the family and heading west. See if we can go far enough so the Orcs won't find us."

  I try to ignore him. I've got enough on my mind without the relentless pessimism of a landus driver. Besides, there's more truth in what he says than I want to acknowledge.

  Senator Lodius's villa is guarded by four uniformed men from the Securitas Guild. I'm expecting trouble gaining entry, but when I announce myself they wave me right through. Makri gets a few curious glances but they don't raise any objections. The servant who answers the door seems a little surprised, but even so she welcomes us in. She deposits us in a waiting room, whe
re I look morosely at a small bust of Saint Quatinius which I recognise as coming from the workshop of Drantaax, one of Turai's most famous sculptors. Or he was, till he was murdered last year. I investigated the case. Another sorry affair full of malice and greed.

  We wait for what seems like a long time. Makri wonders out loud if my clients always take this long to appear.

  "Only the wealthy ones. Senators, Prefects, they never treat a man right. And their wives are worse. When she gets here she'll demand I clear her husband in the space of a couple of hours and probably add on a lecture about my public duty into the bargain. As if any of these people ever did their public duty."

  I take another drink of klee and belch noisily.

  "Why did she hire you?" says Makri.

  "Number one chariot at investigating." I reply.

  The Senator's wife, Ivaris, appears in the room, accompanied by a young female servant. She apologises for keeping us waiting, citing a crisis in the kitchen as an excuse.

  "I was hoping you'd change your mind," she says. And you are . . .?" She looks towards Makri.

  "Makri. I help Thraxas with the fighting."

  Ivaris smiles politely. I'm half expecting her to throw us out on the spot, but even Makri's pointy ears, male attire and twin swords don't seem to upset her.

  "I do hope you can help my husband. It would be a terrible tragedy were he to be unjustly convicted of such a crime."

  "Yes, he's a fine man. It's an honour to work for him."

  "I do not believe you like him at all," responds Ivaris.

  "I don't. But I'm taking the case. No one poisons a man when I'm in the room and gets away with it. Especially when I've been eating the food."

  "You find that particularly offensive?"

  "I do. Tampering with food is a serious crime. I charge thirty gurans a day plus expenses. But when you hire me I'm in charge of the case. So don't get it into your head that you can start telling me how to do my job."