“But you’re chief security officer. Why aren’t you more worried?”
“Because I’m hungry. I’m concentrating on that.”
“Well as long as you’ve got enough pies inside you when Deeziz destroys our army, we’ve nothing to worry about,” says Makri. When she first arrived in Turai I’m sure she didn’t even know what sarcasm was. The city can be very corrupting.
“Makri, I’m sensing a certain lack of faith in my capabilities.”
“You just said you had no idea what to do!”
I come to a halt, and turn to my quarter-Orc, quarter-Elf, half-Human companion. “That’s true. But that doesn’t mean I won’t come up with something. It’s just a matter of time.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll come up with something. I always have in the past. And when I do, make sure you’re ready.”
“For what?”
“For swift action. You remember that Orcish sorcerer who appeared when we were at the chariot races? He was firing spells all over the place until I beat him over the head with a chair. That put an end to his activities. Take note of that. Even the most powerful sorcerer can be vulnerable when they’re engaged in sorcery. They tend not to notice people sneaking up behind them with a hefty piece of furniture in their hands. That’s why we have the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment to protect our own. So if the time comes when I expose Deeziz, you make sure you’re ready.”
“To hit her with a chair?”
“Yes. Or stab her. Whichever’s easier.”
When I reach my wagon, Droo greets me enthusiastically. Anumaris and Rinderan express concern about my absence.
“Secret business for the War Leader,” I tell them.
“Did you visit the – ”
“Don’t ask. It was secret. Don’t mention it again.”
Anumaris isn’t satisfied. “Couldn’t you have given us some warning you were leaving?”
“Then it wouldn’t have been secret. Did any of you learn anything useful while I was away?”
Rinderan takes a notepad from beneath his cloak and reads. “All of Lord Kalith-ar-Yil’s staff can give a full account of their time previous to arriving in Samsarina. No reasons to suspect any of them. Lord Kalith however, still has a period that can’t be accounted for. There are no independent witnesses to confirm his claim that he was engaged in solitary religious duties for his people.”
Anumaris consults her own notepad. “Hanama and her intelligence staff all seem to be above suspicion, apart from an Elvish woman she’s engaged as her assistant. This woman, Megleth, refuses to provide us with any details of her past whereabouts. Hanama also refuses to provide any information about her.”
“Where does she come from? What’s she doing on Hanama’s staff?”
Anumaris doesn’t know. Apparently Hanama refuses to even discuss her.
“That’s not very satisfactory,” I say. “Lisutaris’s intelligence chief can’t be employing mysterious Elves and refusing to tell us anything about them. I’ll make enquiries. Anything else?”
“We also have some suspicions about Bishop-General Ritari’s second in command, Legate Apiroi. He was sent by the Niojan command to assist Ritari, but he didn’t travel with the Bishop-General and his journey took two days longer than it should have. The Legate can’t, or won’t, account for this.”
“Was there anyone with him?”
“No, he travelled alone.”
“Interesting. Legate Apiroi is exactly the sort of trouble-maker you might expect to be an Orcish spy. Throwing his weight around, calling people Turanian dogs for no reason. I’ve been suspicious of him since we met. Keep working on him.”
I turn to Droo, and ask the young Elf if she’s managed to investigate anything.
“I investigated plenty of things! I’ve been all round the army checking up on mysterious singers. You know, like Moolifi you told us about.”
“Did you discover anything?”
“The Samsarinan infantry are all issued with two bottles of beer a day as part of their rations. Not such a large amount I suppose, though it is good beer. The cavalry get a small bottle of wine each. I tried it, it’s good wine. The Turanian exiles' regiment mostly drinks whatever beer they can find. They were running short, because the refugees didn’t bring a lot with them, but Lisutaris managed to find them a supply so they’re all a lot happier now. The archers from Kastlin drink wine but they’ve got a few bottles of klee with them. I’ve never tried that before, it’s strong stuff. I wonder if we could make it on Avula? I’ll have to find out. The Abelasian sorcerers brought a barrel of - ”
Anumaris Thunderbolt interrupts her. “Did you find out anything apart from the drinking habits of the army?”
“Like what?”
“Like mysterious singers or entertainers. That’s what you said you were looking for.”
“Oh. Right. No I didn’t find anything like that.”
“You’ve completely wasted your time!” cries Anumaris.
This seems harsh to me. I was enjoying Droo’s intelligence report. “Keep at it,” I tell her. “You never know what information might come in useful. I’ll be interested in any beer, wine or klee-related stories.”
Droo beams, pleased. Anumaris and Rinderan look very unimpressed.
“I want to check out some more people. Saabril Clearwater, sorcerer from Kamara. She arrived with two sorcerers from Kastlin. They’re all working close to Lisutaris, see if there’s anything suspicious about them. Also, keep your ears open for any mysterious shoe-related stories.”
“Shoes?”
“Tirini Snake Smiter claims someone took her shoes. What the significance of this is, I don’t know, but I’m interested.”
“Yes Captain,” say Anumaris and Rinderan. Neither of them look very interested.
“How are our provisions? Can either of you two sorcerers produce a meal instantly? I’ve hardly had a chance to eat for forty eight hours.”
“I’ll light the fire,” says Anumaris. Lighting fires when necessary is one of the perks of being a sorcerer. Watching Anumaris bring our campfire to life with a spell reminds me of Tirini doing the same thing, back in the Avenging Axe when it was cold in winter. I can remember the pained expression on her face, as if using sorcery for such a menial task was beneath her. She was disgusted at being obliged to stay in a tavern in Twelve Seas, and didn’t waste any opportunity to remind everyone what a low-class dive it was.
We have a decent enough supper. It’s not on the level of Tanrose’s cooking, but it’ll keep me going for a while. Makri appears. She could eat with the other members of the Sorcerers Auxiliary regiment who make up Lisutaris’s staff, but I don’t think she feels comfortable with them. She sometimes joins us at our campfire, always keeping one eye on the command tent, in case she’s needed.
“Do you think Cicerius is alive?” she asks, after a while.
“Probably not. I doubt he’d have been able to escape from Turai.”
Makri frowns. “He was with us in the Avenging Axe when the Orcs arrived. Didn’t you see what happened to him?”
I shake my head. “I blacked out when Deeziz used that spell. He wasn’t there when I came round. No one was.”
Makri thinks about this. “If he’s dead do you think they might try and stop me going to the university?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it depends who ends up in charge of the city.”
Makri’s frown deepens. I know why she’s worried. She has an overwhelming ambition to attend the university in Turai. This ambition was undimmed by the fact that the university did not accept female students, nor anyone with Orcish blood. It seemed like a hopeless endeavour, even though Makri had gained the requisite qualification at the guild college. As it transpired, she preformed such sterling service for Turai that Deputy-Consul Cicerius promised he’d persuade the Senate to allow her to attend.