Thraxas Under Siege (ARC) Page 8

  "Silver Lane," I repeat. "Do you beg there?"

  "What about it?"

  "Who did you see coming out of the building?"

  "No one."

  I drop the coin into his bowl and take out another one. So far I've bribed the sailor in the Mermaid, Kerk, and now Nerinax. It's the easiest way to get information. At least I haven't had to think too much.

  "Are you from the Guards?"

  "No. I'm an Investigator. And Captain Arex was murdered inside the building you were outside of. As I'm sure you know. So tell me about the people you saw coming out."

  "I saw you."

  "Who else?"

  "Civil Guards. After you."

  "What about before me?"

  Nerinax looks round uncomfortably. He'd like me to drop another coin in his bowl but he doesn't want anyone to see him giving information to an Investigator. Giving information can be an unhealthy pastime in Twelve Seas. There's no one around. I drop the coin into his bowl.

  "A few people were in and out of the building. A Sorcerer."

  "A Sorcerer? A big man? Long cloak and fancy black boots?"

  The beggar nods. So Glixius Dragon Killer was there. That's interesting.

  "Who else?"

  "A thin man in a cloak."

  "What did he look like?"

  Nerinax shrugs.

  "He had his hood up. He was thin. He was looking down like he didn't want to be recognised."

  "Was this before the Sorcerer?"

  He nods. I question him some more but he can't give me a better description. A thin man in a cloak. Medium height, wearing a grey tunic, same as most people in Twelve Seas. It's not much of a description.

  "Anyone else?"

  He glances round nervously again. Fearing he's about to clam up, I take out another coin.

  "Borinbax," he says, quite nervously.

  I've heard of Borinbax. He works for the Brotherhood, which is enough reason for Nerinax not to want anyone to know he saw him. Borinbax is a thief by trade. Not famous for his exploits, but busy enough. Mainly works around the harbour warehouses but has been known to rob wagons coming into the city. He could be the sort of man to steal the Ocean Storm, though I never heard that he was a killer. If he does have it, it might be in the hands of the Brotherhood by now, which will make it very awkward to retrieve.

  I hand over another coin. By now the rain has started to fall more heavily. The beggar shivers, and looks uncomfortable. The front door of the church opens. I glance up. It's Derlex, the pontifex. He glares at me. I depart swiftly.

  Borinbax rents some rooms above a sailmaker's shop close to the docks. By the time I get there the sky is dark grey and the rain is coming down heavily. The water in the harbour is choppy. Out beyond the harbour walls the sea is cutting up quite roughly. If there are any Orcish ships out there they might be in for an uncomfortable time. Perhaps Prince Amrag and his whole army will drown. That would save us a lot of trouble.

  Before calling on Borinbax, I look around for a whale, or something which might resemble one. I don't see anything. I wasn't expecting to. I've lived close to the harbour most of my life and I've never heard of anything called the whale. But Tanrose's mother definitely recalled that her father said the gold was buried under the whale. After some fruitless tramping of the streets I start to wonder if perhaps she's losing her mind. Always a possibility, after a long life in Twelve Seas.

  There are various taverns dotted around the docks. I wonder if any of them might once have been called the Whale. It's a possibility. I'll check it out later. I abandon the hunt and turn my mind back to Borinbax.

  There's a door beside the sailmaker's shop and a staircase leading up to Borinbax's rooms. The door isn't locked and I climb the stairs carefully. Whoever's taken the Ocean Storm hasn't hesitated to kill, and I keep my hand on my sword pommel as I make the ascent. I've got a sleep spell ready to knock out anyone who gets in my way. It's a small piece of sorcery but it's often helped me out of a jam.

  Borinbax's front door is painted white. Most front doors in Turai are. It's the lucky colour for front doors. It's freshly painted, probably a sign that he isn't doing too badly for himself. The door swings open easily. Odd. No self-respecting thief leaves his front door open. I draw my sword and advance carefully into the hallway. It's dark, with no torch lit, so I take out my illuminated staff and speak the word to make it work. The hall lights up with a golden glow. My illuminated staff is a fine piece of craftsmanship. I won it from an Elf lord playing niarit. He was a fool to play me. I'm number one chariot at niarit.

  The hallway is neat and clean. Fresh plaster on the walls and a small religious icon with a picture of St Quatinius, picked out in gold. There's a rug on the floor, another good item, Abelasian wool, better quality than you'd find in most places in Twelve Seas. Borinbax must be doing well for himself. Or was doing well for himself, I should say, because he's lying face down in the hallway, dead, and no longer enjoying his furnishings.

  I creep further along the hall, examining each of his rooms. They're all neat and they're all empty. I go back to the body and turn it over carefully. There's an ugly wound in his chest. I stare at it for a few moments. Doesn't quite look like a stab wound. I try sensing the air for sorcery. I can't pick up anything. I take a further look around but I'm not expecting to find anything, and I don't. The Ocean Storm has eluded me again.

  Chapter Ten

  In the street below I call into the first tavern, buy a beer and down it in one gulp, then set off towards the Avenging Axe. Three people have now died because of the Ocean Storm. Every time I get close someone beats me to it. I wonder who else might be on the trail. I wonder about the oddly shaped wound in Borinbax's chest.

  There's a cold mist rolling in off the sea which doesn't improve my mood. Nor does the thought that my office is currently infested with sick people. How long is Lisutaris going to loll around in my bed? It seems like time she was getting better. As for Hanama, the woman is meant to be a deadly Assassin. You might think she'd be healthy enough to just shake off an attack of the malady rather than collapse in my office and refuse to budge. I decide to ask Gurd if he can do something about clearing a store room. Maybe I could just throw Hanama in the cellar till she recovers, and to hell with what Chiaraxi says. I've had enough of that healer ordering me around.

  I'm no closer to raising the required funds for the card game. No Ocean Storm and no sign of the buried gold. Unless I get some sudden inspiration as to what Captain Maxius meant by "under the whale," the treasure is going to remain undisturbed. The thought of not having enough money to play cards fills me with gloom. Might there be anyone else in the Avenging Axe who could lend me something? Dandelion for instance. She gets paid every week and what does she have to spend money on? As far as anyone knows, the only thing she ever does is go down to the coast and talk to the dolphins. She might have a few gurans laid by somewhere.

  I trudge into the Avenging Axe with a mighty scowl on my face. Ignoring various friendly greetings from some of the regular customers, I march up to the bar and tell Dandelion to pour me a Happy Guildsman and be quick about it. Remembering that I'm about to ask her for money, I say thank you when she lays it on the counter. Makri emerges from the back room with a case of klee, replenishing the stocks behind the bar.

  "You look as miserable as a Niojan whore," she says.

  "No doubt. I have a lot to put up with. Dandelion, can you lend me any money?"

  Dandelion looks surprised.

  "Are you having problems?"

  I've been considering spinning some lie, but I don't have the energy.

  "I need it to play cards."

  "All right," says Dandelion.

  Makri interrupts, inevitably.

  "You're crazy Dandelion."

  "Makri, shut up. How much can you lend me?"

  Dandelion thinks for a minute.

  "Fifty gurans."

  "Excellent. I appreciate it."

  "That's the last you'll see of it
," says Makri, quite mockingly.

  "But Thraxas is an excellent card player," says Dandelion. "Doesn't he always win?"

  "I do. And I appreciate the loan. You can count on a good return on your money, Dandelion. A pity more people in this tavern don't share your faith in a man."

  I ask Makri whether Lisutaris is showing any sign of recovering.

  "Not much. She's got it bad."

  Palax and Kaby are a little better, but still unable to leave Makri's room, which doesn't please her at all. Makri is also worried about falling ill herself. Chiaraxi is still calling in regularly to minister to her patients, which is something. According to her, the malady is spreading and it looks like the city might be in for a full-scale epidemic. Bad news, with the Orcs outside the walls. We're short of fighting men as it is.

  "I heard people in the market talking about the Orcs breaching the sea wall," says Makri.

  "What? Who said that?"

  "Just some people at the stalls. They'd heard the Orcs have got a new weapon and they're going to smash their way into the harbour."

  I suppose the rumour was bound to leak out. With the Civil Guards, the Sorcerers Guild, and the prefects' office all looking for the Ocean Storm, word was bound to spread.

  Makri notices I'm looking thoughtful.

  "Do you think you can find it?"

  "I don't know. Whoever else is looking for it keeps getting there ahead of me. And he isn't shy of killing either."

  Makri wonders why whoever else is looking for the Ocean Storm killed the captain and Borinbax. I admit I don't know.

  "Maybe just to protect his identity. It's odd that no one seems to know who exactly is involved. The Sorcerers and the Guards are all looking; you'd think they might have come up with something."

  I wonder about the odd wound in Borinbax's chest. It didn't look like it came from a sword or a dagger.

  "It looked like your chest."

  "What?" says Makri.

  "Your chest after we pulled that crossbow bolt out of you."

  Makri looks interested.

  "A crossbow bolt?"

  A killer called Sarin the Merciless once fired a crossbow bolt into Makri's chest, nearly killing her. She's been keen for revenge ever since.

  "I wonder if Sarin's involved. She's smart and she likes her crossbow. She might have removed the bolt afterwards to avoid giving herself away. And she wouldn't mind killing anyone who got in her way."

  "If she shows up again I'll kill her," says Makri, brightening up at the prospect.

  I finish my beer, and consider another. I need some sustenance, particularly as I've been obliged to sleep on the floor. I can still feel my back aching. It strikes me that as Tanrose has apparently moved in with Gurd, her room downstairs is now free.

  "Of course," I say, slapping my palm on the bar. "I should have thought of it before. I can move into Tanrose's room till the sick people get the hell out of mine."

  "You can't," says Dandelion.

  "Why not? Tanrose won't mind."

  "It's not empty."

  "I thought Tanrose was—"

  I stop, not wishing to complete the sentence in front of Dandelion.

  "Sleeping with Gurd," says Makri, who has no delicacy about her at all.

  "She is. But Chiaraxi is in Tanrose's room."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She got sick."

  I gape at Dandelion, as does Makri.

  "Dandelion, don't babble. She can't get sick, she's the healer."

  "Well she did," replies Dandelion, placidly. "This afternoon. Just fell over when she was making potions. So we had to put her in Tanrose's room. I'm going to make up potions for everyone later, she gave me the recipe. We'll all have to work extra hard to look after people now the healer is sick."

  I'm practically speechless and Makri isn't looking too pleased either.

  "Well, this seems bad," she says. "Rather shakes my confidence in Chiaraxi."

  "Mine too. The least you could expect from a healer is not to get ill."

  "Damn them all! Can't they get sick somewhere else?" says Makri.

  "You were the one who encouraged them all to hang around."

  "I did not," retorts Makri. "Apart from Lisutaris. And maybe Hanama. I don't like this at all, Thraxas. Everyone's getting sick. Is it some sort of spell?"

  Makri seems quite disconcerted by the whole thing. It's unusual for her to show signs of nervousness in any circumstances. I guess she really doesn't like the idea of becoming ill.

  "Relax. If you catch it you'll get better."

  "I'm not taking potions to anyone," she says.

  "We all have to pull together," says Dandelion.

  "Damn them all," says Makri again.

  All thoughts of the winter malady are banished next moment when Captain Rallee, accompanied by four excited-looking Civil Guards, rushes into the tavern. He bangs his fist on the table for silence then shouts out to everyone in the room.

  "There's a report of Orcs in Twelve Seas! Down by the church. Everyone with a sword follow me!"

  There's a mass scramble for weapons. Viriggax and his mercenaries leap to their feet, hastily grab their swords and make for the door. Gurd appears from behind the bar, axe in hand, and runs after them. Meanwhile I'm moving as fast as I can in the same direction. If the Orcs have somehow arrived in Twelve Seas undetected the city might be about to fall a lot sooner than anyone expected. Makri disappears up the stairs to fetch her weapons and is so quick that's she's coming down the steps from my office to the street outside by the time I get there. We hurry along after the mercenaries and the Captain, towards the church. Unfortunately, by this time the wind has dropped and the mist that came in earlier has now enveloped Twelve Seas in thick white gloom. The Captain and his men have already disappeared from view, and those who are trying to keep up with him find themselves crashing into passers-by attempting to make their way home through the gloom. The city's lamplighters have already lit the torches that stand on most street corners, but their light barely cuts through the mist, making it almost impossible to see where I'm going.

  Thick winter fogs are not that uncommon in Turai but I'm not certain whether this is completely natural. If the Orcs are indeed attacking, then sending in a sorcerous blanket of freezing mist as cover wouldn't be a bad idea. Controlling the weather by means of magic is extremely difficult, but everything we've learned about the Orcish Sorcerers in the past few years seems to indicate that they're growing stronger.

  By the time I'm close to the church I've lost sight of everyone, including Makri. Somewhere ahead of me I can hear Viriggax bellowing at his mercenary company, ordering them to form up and advance behind him. I can't hear the clash of weapons but there's a lot of shouting coming from all directions, and several people crash into me from behind, rushing to the scene as word spreads that the Orcs are in the city. Suddenly the great bell at the harbour starts booming out a warning.

  "Orcish ships!" screams someone, though from where we are, we can't see the sea. But the cry is taken up and soon the whole area around the church is a mass of people rushing blindly about in the mist, brandishing weapons and screaming that the Orcs are coming. I can't see more than a sword's length in front of me, and the way things are going I'm expecting to be run through by an overexcited mercenary before I come to grips with the enemy. I actually bump into Captain Rallee between the church and the harbour. He's lost all his men and he's sweating with the exertion of running around Twelve Seas.

  "Have you seen anything?" he barks at me. I shake my head and he hurries off, blowing a whistle to rally his men, which isn't going to work in this confusion. Bells, whistles, shouts and screams rend the air from every direction. Having failed to locate any Orcs around the church, I'm making my way down towards the harbour, ready to repel invaders. It's slow progress. I've giving up running and pick my way carefully along. I know every inch of these streets but the torches haven't carried away any of the mist and visibility is almost zero. Inevitably, I f
ind myself trampling over beggars and comatose dwa addicts, lying in front of alleyways, impervious to the excitement. I'm continually jostled by soldiers, Civil Guards, mercenaries, not to mention Twelve Seas civilians carrying whatever weapons they can find. I march round a corner with a sword in my hand and nearly decapitate a funeral party, two men in black cloaks and hoods, and a veiled woman, all treading slowly homewards, heads solemnly bowed. I cast a swift suspicious glance at their concealed faces—you wouldn't expect Orcs to invade the city disguised as a funeral party, but who knows what they might be up to these days—but they're Human, not Orcs. I can always sense the presence of Orcs. A useful talent that's stayed with me from my days as a Sorcerer's apprentice. As it happens, I do see one of their faces, when I tread on someone's toes and he lifts his hood to give me an angry scowl.

  "Watch where you're going," he barks.

  "Possible Orcish invasion," I mutter back, by way of explanation, and plunge back into the mist.

  When I'm almost at the harbour I bump right into Makri. She's carrying her black Orcish sword in one hand and a medium-sized axe in the other. Her Elvish sword is slung over her back.

  "Have you seen the Orcs?" she cries.

  "No. Have you?"

  She shakes her head.

  "No sign of them. Though I've bumped into most other people in Twelve Seas."

  "Me too."

  We stand in silence for a moment, as the chaos continues all around.

  "We must have covered a fair bit of ground between us," says Makri. "You think we'd have come across an Orc by now."

  She looks disappointed.

  "You think it might be a false alarm?"

  I nod.

  "It's starting to look that way."

  The great bell at the harbour has stopped ringing, though there's still a lot of confused shouting in the distance. Makri shivers. She ran out of the Avenging Axe wearing only her chainmail bikini, and now that the excitement is wearing off she's noticing that it's not an appropriate garment for walking around in a freezing fog.

  "I need a beer. I'm going back to the Axe."