“Yes. Droo, you’re to question them about their movements in the past month. Anumaris and Rinderan, you use your sorcery to probe for anything suspicious.”
“They’re not going to like that,” says Anumaris.
“Probably not. Be discreet if you can. But if you can’t be discreet, don’t worry about it. I’m in charge of Lisutaris’s personal security so I have the authority. Any complaints, refer them to me. Or I should say, try and get rid of them first. But if you can’t get rid of them, refer them to me.”
Junior Ensign Droo grins, and salutes, enthusiastically. Rinderan and Anumaris, rather less so.
“Meanwhile I’ll be conducting searches around town, looking to pick up information in places of interest before we leave. Any further questions?”
There being no further questions, I send my staff out to begin their work. I place a minor locking spell on my door, and settle down on the couch to complete my unfinished nap. I’m satisfied with my day’s work. It doesn’t take long for me to get things moving. Thraxas, number one chariot at investigating. I’m just drifting off when there’s a heavy knock on my door. I attempt to ignore it. It comes again, louder.
“Thraxas, I know you’re in there.”
I curse. It’s Makri. I know from experience there’s no point in trying to ignore her. She’d only break the door down. I drag myself off the couch and haul the door open.
“Is this important? I was engaged in some serious work.”
“You were sleeping on the couch.” Makri strides into the room, smiling broadly. She doesn’t smile broadly all that often.
“What are you looking so happy about?”
“Gurd and Tanrose. I didn’t think we’d see them again. I missed them.”
“I missed them too. I thought old Gurd might have finally handed in his toga, without me there to protect him.”
“And we’re finally ready to march! We’re going to kick these Orcs out of Turai!”
Makri grew up as an Orcish gladiator, in effect a slave. She hates them bitterly. “Do you think the Orcs will come out and fight? Or will they hide in Turai?”
“I don’t know. Whatever they do, they’ll make life difficult for us. Prince Amrag’s a good Commander.”
Makri looks at me quizzically. “Did you just compliment an Orc?”
“Maybe. There’s no point pretending he’s not a good Commander. He’s given us the runaround so far. Are you going to tell Lisutaris that you’re related to him?”
“No.”
Makri is Amrag’s sister, or half-sister. She has a complicated ancestry which she’s never fully explained. Amrag is older than her, and lacks her Elvish blood, but they’re related. No one knows that except me. I’ve told her she should inform Lisutaris but she refuses. Understandable, I suppose. She’s had a tough enough time without giving people an excuse to be even more suspicious of her.
“Makri, do you have to keep grinning like that? It’s unnatural.”
“I thought you’d be happy too. You’re always going on about what a great soldier you were. Aren’t you looking forward to some fighting?”
“I might be, if I wasn’t stuck in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment with a bunch of callow incompetents.”
“Callow incompetents?”
“You know Lisutaris assigned Droo to my unit? What am I meant to do with an eighteen-year-old Elf who’s only life experience is sitting in trees writing poetry? As for Anumaris Thunderbolt, she has some sort of mania against alcohol. Hardly a minute passes but she’s lecturing me about not drinking so much. I suspect Lisutaris has deliberately assigned me the most unsuitable staff out of spite.”
Makri laughs. “Or perhaps she just doesn’t want you rolling around drunk when you’re meant to be investigating. You should follow her example. She’s really cut down on her thazis intake since she was made War Leader.”
“So she claims. She’s probably still sucking it up in private. Anyway, you wouldn’t catch me and Gurd going into battle without a few ales inside us. Ale is the bedrock of a good phalanx. Not that there’s any chance of me being in a good phalanx while I’m shepherding these untrained youths around the place. She’s sent me this sorcerer called Rinderan from the Southern Hills and he’s never even been in combat. Probably flee at the first sign of a dragon.”
“We’ve all got to make sacrifices. We’re engaged in important business.”
I glower at Makri. “Since when did you become the voice of wisdom?”
“Since I became Ensign Makri in the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment, bodyguard to our War Leader, Commander Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky. I’ve put aside all frivolities for the duration of the war. Nothing will affect my concentration on the job in hand and I advise you to adopt the same attitude.”
Makri draws herself up, looks serious, and opens the door. “I’ll see you on the march, Captain Thraxas.”
Makri can be hard to take at the best of times. This new, responsible version is worse than most. She departs. I head for the couch. Before I can reach it the door bursts open and Makri flies into the room.
“Hide me!” she cries, before slamming the door shut and diving behind the makeshift couch.
Rather puzzled, I look down at her crouching figure. “What’s the matter?”
“See-ath!”
“What?”
“See-ath! The Elf from Avula. he’s outside in the corridor. I can’t let him see me.”
“Is See-ath the one - “
“Yes!” hisses Makri.
Poor Makri. She’s strongly attracted to Elves. Elves, unfortunately, tend to be suspicious of her because of her Orcish blood. That’s not to say they don’t find her attractive. Most people find Makri attractive, particularly in the chainmail bikini she wore as a barmaid. But when she did finally get her chance, and embarked on a brief fling with a young Elf on the Isle of Avula, it didn’t end well. So I understand, anyway. She’s never volunteered many details of the affair.
I look at her with interest. “What happened to 'I’ve put aside all frivolities for the duration of the war?'”
“That was before I knew See-ath was here.”
“You can’t spend the whole war hiding behind my couch.”
“Why not?”
“We have to march north tomorrow, for one thing. Is it really so bad seeing him again?”
“Yes.”
“Come on Makri, people have unfortunate relationships all the time. So it didn’t work out. That’s not so bad. Maybe a little embarrassing, nothing more.”
“It’s a lot more.”
“Why? What happened on Avula?”
Makri, still hiding behind the couch, screws up her face. “Avula wasn’t so bad. It was afterwards.”
“Afterwards? But you didn’t see him afterwards.”
“I know. I was upset that he didn’t get in touch. I sent him some messages.”
“Messages? How?”
“By ship. And by sorcerer. Once by carrier pigeon.”
“I see. What did these messages say?”
“They started off saying I missed him and why hadn’t he got in touch? Then I got a little upset, and I... well... ”
“You threatened him with violence?”
“By the ninth message I told him I was going to chop his head off and feed it to a dragon. Maybe that was the tenth, I forget exactly.”
“I can see why things have become awkward. That’s not really normal behaviour.”
“I’m not very experienced at these things.”
I shake my head. Poor Makri.
“What’ll I do?” she wails.
“How about facing him manfully, or womanfully, if there is such a word, and discussing it?”