My head’s starting to hurt. The sight of Dandelion with her bare feet and odd clothes is irritating beyond measure. I’d like to bounce her down the stairs.
“Who gave you this warning? The Brotherhood? The Society of Friends?”
“No one gave it me. I read it in the stars.”
Makri fails to suppress a giggle. I stare at both of them with loathing.
“You read it in the stars?”
“Yes,” says Dandelion, nodding eagerly. “Last night on the beach. I hurried here as fast as I could to warn you. Because I owe you—”
“Will you get out of my office!” I roar. “Makri, how dare you bring this freak in here to bother me like this. If she’s still here in five seconds I swear I’ll kill you both. Don’t you know I’m a busy man? Now get the hell out of here!”
Makri shepherds Dandelion from the room. She pauses at the door.
“Maybe you ought to listen to her, Thraxas. After all, she came up with the goods during the dolphin case.”
I tell Makri brusquely I’ll be grateful if she never wastes my time again, and add a few curses I usually save for the race track. Makri departs, slamming the door. I open it to curse her again, then sit down heavily. My mood just got a lot worse. I need more sleep. There’s a knock on the outside door. I ignore it. It comes again. I continue to ignore it. My outside door is secured by a minor locking spell which is sufficient for keeping out most people, and I’m not in the mood for company. I lie down on my couch just as the door flies open and Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, strides into the room. Lisutaris, number one Sorcerer in Turai. Number one Sorcerer in all the Human lands, in fact, since she was elected head of the Sorcerers Guild. She glares down at me.
“Why didn’t you answer the door?”
“I was counting on the locking spell to keep out unwanted intruders.”
Lisutaris smiles. A locking spell placed by the likes of me is never going to be a problem for such a powerful Sorcerer.
“Are you planning on lying there all day?”
I struggle to rise. Lisutaris is an important woman, and wealthy. She deserves respect, though as I’ve frequently seen her in a state of collapse due to overindulgence in the narcotic thazis, I don’t feel the need to be too formal.
“Do you always greet your clients this way?”
“Only when I’m trying to sleep off the effect of beer. Is this a social call? And incidentally, why are you in disguise?”
“It’s a professional call. I’m here to hire you. And I’m in disguise because I don’t want anyone to recognise me.”
Turai’s Sorcerers wear a distinctive rainbow cloak, and as Lisutaris is an aristocratic woman, she’d normally have a fine gown under her cloak, along with jewellery, gold sandals and the like. Instead she’s dressed in the plain garb of the lower classes, though any observer could tell that her extravagant hair wasn’t coiffured at one of the cheap establishments you’d find in Twelve Seas. Even in a plain robe, Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, is a striking woman. She’s somewhere around the same age as me, but she’s always been an elegant beauty, and careful with her looks.
“I see nothing’s changed around here,” she says, sweeping some junk off a chair and sitting down lightly. “Is it absolutely necessary for you to live in such squalor?”
“Private investigation never pays that well.”
“You were well remunerated for your help at the Sorcerers Assemblage, I believe.”
“Not as well remunerated as I should have been. And some recent investments have turned out less well than I anticipated.”
“You mean you lost it all at the chariot races?”
“That’s right.”
Lisutaris nods.
“I too lost money at the last meeting. Of course, I can afford it. Well, Thraxas, as you’re obviously in need of money, I expect you’ll be glad to take on the case.”
“Tell me about it.”
There’s a slight delay while Lisutaris lights a thazis stick. She offers me one, which I accept. Thazis is a mild narcotic for most people, but Lisutaris is a very heavy user. She invented a new kind of water pipe and developed a spell for making the plants grow faster. The citizens of Turai are proud that one of our own was recently selected as head of the Sorcerers Guild, but they might be surprised if they knew the full extent of Lisutaris’s habit. Generally she’s too stoned to walk by the end of the day. She was never that suitable a candidate for head of the Sorcerers Guild really, but there wasn’t a better one available, much to the chagrin of Deputy Consul Cicerius. Suitable or not, it was a relief for the Deputy Consul, the Consul and the King to have a Turanian elected. It guarantees us help from all the Sorcerers in the west should we come under attack from the Orcs again, which we will, sooner or later.
“Have you heard of the Sorcerer’s green jewel?”
I shake my head.
“I never made it past apprentice. My sorcerous knowledge has a lot of gaps.”
“Not many people have heard of it,” continues Lisutaris. “It’s what you might call a state secret. Even I was unaware of its existence till I became privy to government secrets after my election as head of the Guild. The green jewel is Turai’s guarantee against unexpected invasion. In the hands of a powerful Sorcerer, the jewel acts as an all-seeing eye. No matter how private the Orcs might try to keep their affairs, we will always be able to tell when they’re massing armies against us. So it’s an important piece of rock.”
I’m surprised to learn of this artefact, and a little puzzled by Lisutaris’s explanation.
“It sounds like a handy thing to have. But what do you mean, it’s our only defence against unexpected invasion? The Sorcerers Guild has plenty of spells for giving us advance warning.”
“True. But the Orcish Sorcerers Guild has spent the last fifteen years in a concentrated attempt to negate every one of them. There used to be twenty or more far-seeing spells we could use. Government intelligence now indicates that this is down to two or three. The Orcs have successfully developed counter-spells to the rest. The Orcish Sorcerers Guild is a far more cohesive unit than most things in the east. Even when their states have been riven by internal wars, they’ve kept working away on the problem. If they come up with counter-spells to our few remaining incantations for tracking their movements, the green jewel will be the only thing standing between the west and oblivion.”
This talk of Orcish wars, while uncomfortable, has got my attention. I fought in the last one. So did Lisutaris, Gurd, and practically every other able-bodied Turanian who was old enough to wield a blade or chant a spell. In the climax of a savage and destructive conflict we threw them back from the walls, but it was a close thing till the Elves arrived from the south. Without their aid, Turai would now be an outpost of the Orcish empire, or a pile of ruins.
“So the Orcish Sorcerers have been busy and we’re now dependent on the green jewel.”
“That’s right,” says Lisutaris. “I trust I’ve impressed you with the great importance of this item?”
“You have. So what about it?”
“It was entrusted to me.”
“And?”
“I lost it.”
“You lost it? How?”
“I put it in my bag when I went to the chariot races. Which was not as careless as it might sound. To use the jewel properly, it’s necessary for a Sorcerer to become very familiar with it, and learn its properties in all circumstances. Unfortunately when I returned home it was no longer in my bag. I think it may have dropped out when I was giving my secretary some money to place a bet.”
“What chariot?”
“City Destroyer.”
“Bad choice. I lost a bundle on that.”
“The jewel was—”
“Didn’t you think there was something fishy about the way it dropped out of the running on the last lap? I think the charioteer may have been bribed.”