Cicerius isn’t happy but really he’s in an impossible situation. He can’t bring himself to connive in a blatant injustice, and even if he could, there is no legal way to rescind my Tribune’s decree. Only I can do that, and I’ve made it clear I’m not going to.
“Very well,” he says. “You may continue with your investigation. And when the matter comes to the Senate committee I will ensure that it is looked into thoroughly. But I warn you, if there are any political repercussions of your actions, if Senator Lodius and his opposition party again manage to make you their tool in an action against the government, I will personally rescind your Investigator’s licence. With your past record, it will be quite in order for me to do so.”
Having nothing more to say, I make to leave.
“One moment,” says Cicerius. “Why did Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, visit you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Lisutaris is head of the Sorcerers Guild and an important person in the interests of this city state. If she is in any sort of trouble I would naturally wish to know.”
“If she was in any trouble and she’d consulted me, I doubt I’d tell you. I respect my clients’ privacy. But she didn’t come to see me, she came to see Makri.”
“Really?”
“Yes. She was inviting her to her ball.”
Cicerius is surprised. Twenty years ago, a woman like Makri would never have been allowed to attend such an event.
“So be careful who you bump into on the night. If it’s a crazy-looking woman with an axe, don’t ask her about college.”
I depart, leaving Cicerius displeased with the laxity of manners in modern-day Turai. As a Sorcerer mutters a spell to let me out of the building, I’m wondering what sort of costume our Deputy Consul will be sporting at the ball. I just can’t imagine him in fancy dress.
[Contents]
Chapter Eight
Back in Twelve Seas, I take the short cut through St. Rominius’s Lane, not caring if the dark alley might be filled with dwa dealers. If they bother me they’ll regret it. I don’t see any dwa dealers but I do see a unicorn. I stand and stare in amazement. You don’t find unicorns in Turai. You find them mainly in the magic space, which can only be visited by sorcery. As for the real world, unicorns only appear in a very few places, each of these places being of some mystical significance. The Fairy Glade, for instance, deep in the forests that separate Turai from the Wastelands, has its share of the one-horned animals, and there’s reputed to be a colony way out in the furthest west. Other than that, you’d have to go to some of the remoter Elvish Isles to see one. Wherever you might expect to find a unicorn, it wouldn’t be in a noisy, busy, dirty city like Turai. Absolute anathema to the refined breed.
Yet here it is, snowy-white, golden-horned, standing in a grimy little alleyway looking at me like it hasn’t a care in the world. Faced with the fabulous creature, the thought quickly flashes across my mind that if I could capture it, I might be able to sell it for a healthy profit to the King’s zoo. He’s been short of fabulous creatures since his dragon was chopped up a year or two back.
“Nice unicorn,” I say, holding out my hand in a reassuring manner and stepping forward carefully. As soon as I move, the unicorn turns and bolts round the corner. I fly after it but it’s vanished.
“Stupid beast,” I mutter, and hurry on. Now it will have plunged into Quintessence Street, where it will be apprehended and sold for profit by some person far less needy than me. If I get there quickly I still might be up for a share.
I rush down the alley, oblivious to the heat and dust, and burst into the main street, eagerly looking in every direction at once.
“It’s mine, I saw it first, you dogs!” I cry, and brandish my sword to discourage anyone from muscling in on the deal.
Two women at a watermelon stall look at me, puzzled.
“What’s yours?” they ask.
“The unicorn. Which way did it go?”
The women burst out laughing, and keep laughing for a long time. It is apparently the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. And yet I’m right next to the mouth of the alley. It had to have emerged here. I confront the watermelon sellers.
“Didn’t a unicorn come out of that alleyway?”
They look at me with what might be pity.
“Dwa,” says one.
“A serious addiction,” agrees her friend.
I look round wildly. Apart from a few people staring at the mad person shouting about unicorns, no one in Quintessence Street is showing signs of abnormal activity. It’s quite obvious that no single-horned fabulous creature has featured here recently. So it just ran round the corner and vanished from sight.
I realise that someone has been playing a trick on me. A Sorcerer’s apprentice with nothing better to do, most probably. He’ll regret it if I catch hold of him.
“Okay, I’ll take a watermelon then,” I say to the women.
I eat it on the street, cooling down from my exertion. What was I thinking, chasing after an obvious illusion? I must be getting foolish. Flocks of stals—unfortunately real—are perched listlessly on the roofs. These small black scavenging birds spend their time picking up scraps from the market, but in the deadening heat even they’re finding it tough to make a living.
Makri is waiting for me in my office. I’m not mentioning the unicorn to her.
“You know I have to stand up and talk to the whole class?”
“I believe you mentioned it.”
“I have to walk out in front of everyone and declaim in public.”
“So you said.”
“It’s worse now. I have to stand up and talk to a class of people who all think I’m a thief! Is that fair?”
When Makri is in a bad mood her hand has a tendency to stray towards where her sword would be, if she was wearing one. She’s doing it now, but is clad only in her chainmail bikini, without weapons. In the sweltering heat sweat pours down her body. I’m given to believe that the lower-class elements in Twelve Seas like the effect.
“Have you proved me innocent yet? No? Why not?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Will it take long?”
“I’m involved in a very important case, Makri. Vital for the city. With bodies everywhere.”
“How many bodies?”
“Nine.”
Makri purses her lips.
“I’ve bet on fourteen. Do you think I should up it?”
“Don’t talk to me about that.”
She shrugs.
“So don’t I matter as much as this other case?”
“No,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Because the other case involves a matter of national importance!” I explode. “And also I’m being paid.”
“Fine,” retorts Makri. “Of course when I was saving your neck last winter from that man with the magic sword I didn’t stop to ask if I was being paid or not. I just saved your life. I didn’t wait around to check on any possible remuneration, just weighed in there and risked my own life to save yours. But hey, I’m only a barbaric gladiator. When I was growing up I didn’t learn all the rules of civilised society. I just did what I thought was the right—”
“Makri, will you shut the hell up!”
When Makri arrived in Turai I swear she wasn’t capable of these sustained bursts of withering eloquence. I blame the rhetoric classes.
“I’ll sort it out for you. And meanwhile you can still take the examination.”
“In front of people who think I’m a thief.”
I ask Makri what she’s doing in my office when she should be working downstairs. She looks uncomfortable.
“Gurd and Tanrose are still arguing. The atmosphere’s bad.”
I’m still curious as to why she’s in my office instead of her own room.
“Dandelion’s there. I said she could stay a while.”