“Of course I looked for it at the time but—”
“I’m not convinced that Melus the Fair was the right choice for Stadium Sorcerer. I’m sure there’s some corruption going on that she’s not picking up on—”
Lisutaris informs me coldly that she didn’t come here to discuss our mutual misfortunes at the races.
“I’ve just lost the most important weapon in the nation’s armoury and I need it back quickly. If word of this gets out, the King will have me expelled from the city, or possibly something worse. So I’d appreciate it if you’d start investigating without further delay.”
“No need to get upset. I was just sharing in your misfortunes. City Destroyer should have won that race at a canter. It’s getting so a man can’t make an honest bet these days.”
I notice that the Mistress of the Sky has a threatening glint in her eye. I get down to business.
“You’ll need to tell me some more details.”
“The green jewel is set in a pendant, Elvish silverwork, quite distinctive. However, I do not require you to do much investigating. Though I was unable to find the pendant immediately—you will understand that I did not wish to draw attention to my loss by performing a spell at the Stadium Superbius under the nose of Consul Kalius—as soon as I returned home I put my powers to use. I have now located the pendant by means of sorcery. It’s being held in a tavern next to the harbour. The Spiked Mace. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes. It’s the sort of place you’d expect stolen jewels to end up.”
“So I imagined. You will understand, Thraxas, that absolute secrecy is necessary. I cannot allow the King, the Consul or any of my fellow Sorcerers to learn that I have lost the jewel. That being the case, I am unable to stride into the tavern myself and start blasting people with spells. Explanations would be called for which I would be unwilling to provide.”
I understand well enough. In a city which hates and fears the Orcs, anyone found to have carelessly lost our most powerful protection against them would soon find their life not worth living. It is a shocking piece of carelessness on Lisutaris’s part, though in truth it’s not surprising. Her thazis habit is so severe that bad things were bound to happen once she ended up head of the Guild.
“Why didn’t you just send someone from your household?”
“I deem it too much of a risk. Even if they were not recognised there is no telling who might later learn of the affair. Turanian servants are not known for their discretion. My secretary is of course absolutely loyal, but she is a young woman of rather delicate constitution and not suitable for a task such as this. Though I know the address where you may find the jewel, I do not know what else you might find there.”
“Someone who really doesn’t want to return it, most likely. The Spiked Mace is the original den of thieves. Don’t worry, I’ll get it back.”
From Lisutaris’s description of events, it seems quite possible that the thief won’t realise what he’s got. He may believe he’s holding nothing more than a normal piece of dress jewellery and try to sell it as soon as possible for a modest profit.
Lisutaris shifts uncomfortably in the sticky heat of my office. During the winter the Mistress of the Sky, like every other Sorcerer, had warming spells on her apparel to fight off the bitter cold, but cooling oneself by sorcery is far more difficult. A worried expression flits across her face.
“Given that discretion is essential, you won’t start throwing your legal powers around, will you?”
I frown. I’ve been busy trying to forget that I had any legal powers. After many years as a private citizen, I was unexpectedly elevated to the position of Tribune of the People some months ago by Cicerius, the Deputy Consul. The Tribunate, a sort of official citizens’ representative, was an extinct post till Cicerius nominated me last winter. He did this purely so I would be granted access to the Sorcerers Assemblage. It was never his intention, or mine, that I’d actually do anything official, but I was blackmailed into using my Tribune’s powers to halt an eviction, something which carried with it various political ramifications. Since I’m always keen to avoid getting involved in Turai’s murky political world, I’ve been playing down the Tribune bit as much as possible ever since, and have flatly refused to use the authority of the position again, knowing that it will only land me in trouble with some powerful party or other.
“Don’t worry. The post was purely honorary. Senator Lodius forced me into action once, but that’s it.”
The position lasts for a year and I’m hoping that the last few months of my term will run out unnoticed by all, leaving me once more a private citizen. A man who goes around using political power in Turai needs a lot more protection than I’ve got.
Lisutaris lights another thazis stick.
“You didn’t gamble the jewel away, did you?”
She has the good grace to smile.
“No. I’m still wealthy. However, if the loss is made public, you will not be the only person to make that remark. The Stadium Superbius was an unfortunate place to lose the pendant and there has been some jealousy in certain circles since I was elected head of the Guild.”
Lisutaris takes out her purse and lays some money on the table.
“Thirty gurans. Your standard retainer, I believe. There’s one more thing. I positively must have the jewel back quickly. In four days’ time I’m holding a masked ball at my mansion and the Crown Prince will be there, along with Kalius and Cicerius. It is entirely likely that they will wish to view the jewel. Consul Kalius was, I know, somewhat dubious about letting me take it from the Palace.”
I’m not surprised. Anyone who saw Lisutaris stumbling around the Sorcerers Assemblage in a thazis-induced stupor would have been dubious about letting her take anything valuable home with her.
“Couldn’t you cancel the ball?”
Apparently not. Lisutaris’s masked ball is set to be a highlight of the social season. I wonder what it’s like to have a social season.
“I’ll get it back.”
“When you have it, be certain not to stare into it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a powerful sorcerous object. Handling the pendant for a short space of time is quite safe, but it could be hazardous for an untrained person to gaze deeply into the green jewel. It may induce fainting, or worse.”
“I’ll put it straight into my pocket.”
Lisutaris is now on to her third thazis stick. She finishes it, drops the end in my bin, and lights another.
“How is Makri?”
Lisutaris is acquainted with Makri; she hired her to be her bodyguard at the Sorcerers Assemblage.
“Same as usual. Busy and bad-tempered.”
“I have something for her.”
The Sorcerer hands me an envelope. Makri’s name is written on it in the fancy script of a professional scribe. I promise to pass it on. I’m curious, but I figure it’s none of my business, so after Lisutaris leaves I dump it in Makri’s room. Then I douse myself with water to get rid of the last effects of the alcohol and thazis, and strap on my sword. Finally I load one spell—the most I can comfortably manage—into my memory and head out into the streets. Outside, the knife sharpener and the fish vendor are still arguing. It’s bound to end in violence.
[Contents]
Chapter Three
At the foot of the stairs, I run into Moxalan, younger son of Honest Mox the bookmaker. Only son I should say, as his older sibling succumbed to an overdose of dwa last winter, around the same time that Minarixa the baker also died of an overdose. I miss the baker terribly. Life isn’t the same without her pastries. I don’t miss Mox’s son, but as I do a lot of trade with the bookmaker, it’s as well to be civil to his family.