“Plenty of people heard him promise,” she says. “You were there, and Lisutaris. And Coranius.” A touch of doubt enters her voice. “They could tell whoever ends up in charge that Cicerius said I could go, right?”
There was a time when I’d have mocked Makri’s ambition. Now I don’t. Makri deserves support on this one. She’s earned her place.
“Lisutaris will support you,” I tell her. “So will I. Whatever the next government of Turai is, I’ll make sure they know the Deputy Consul promised you could go to the university. And I’ll make sure they keep their promise.”
I drink some wine to wash down the last of my food. “You’ve even got the money now, after all the loot we won in Elath.” Thanks to the unparalleled brilliance of my betting campaign, Makri, Lisutaris and I all ended up winning more than ten thousand gurans, gambling on Makri’s progress in the great sword fighting tournament, money which is at this moment nestling comfortably in Lisutaris’s magic purse. It’s my turn to frown. “Unless Lisutaris handed it over to The High Priestess.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t have.”
“I hope not. She was certainly keen to make her a rich woman.”
When night falls, and I lie down to sleep in the wagon, I find myself thinking about Tirini’s shoes. That shouldn’t be my main concern. Finding Deeziz is the important thing at the moment. But I’m still thinking about the missing shoes. There’s something strange about it, though I’ve no idea what.
Chapter Twelve
It takes us another two days to complete our rendezvous with the Simnian army. Both days pass uneventfully. That doesn’t stop me from worrying about Deeziz the Unseen. There’s no telling what her next move will be. For those of us aware of her presence, it adds a whole new level of anxiety to the already stressful business of going to war. Reports from Makri suggest that Lisutaris’s thazis intake is on the rise.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if I had proper access to beer,” I tell Makri. “But the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment is sadly under-supplied. It’s a bad oversight on Lisutaris’s part. It makes you wonder if she’s fit for the job.”
I stare rather mournfully at the empty tankard in my hand. “I’ve completely run out, and that corrupt fool of a quartermaster refuses to hand over any of tomorrow’s supply in advance. How am I supposed to function like this? It’s no wonder I can’t catch Deeziz. If I was back in Turai I’d be full of beer by now, probably slumped happily on my couch.”
“That never really helped with your investigations,” says Makri.
“Of course it helped.”
“Only in your imagination.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if wasn’t for that prig Anumaris. I was half-way through concocting a promising scheme with Droo for purloining extra supplies when she butted in and started lecturing us about our duties. As if snatching a little extra beer was going to harm the war effort. I’m starting to loathe the woman.
“She’s efficient and does everything properly,” says Makri. “You should be pleased to have her.”
I glare at Makri. “I’m not taking lectures from a woman who’s currently hiding in my wagon because her Elvish ex-lover is delivering messages to our War Leader.”
“Keep your voice down,” says Makri. “He’s close, he might hear us.”
“How long is this going to go on for?”
“Until the war ends and the Elves all go back home. Or I get killed. Either one.”
“You’re going to have to face him some time.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“No, I’m really not going to do that,” says Makri. “I’m going to keep hiding till it’s all over. I can never face See-ath again and that’s all there is to it. Also I’m never having a lover again. Probably I won’t talk to any Elves either, just to be safe.”
“What if you’re guarding Lisutaris at some vital moment and he appears? Are you going to run away?”
“I’m hoping that doesn’t happen.”
I shake my head, and peer out of the flap. See-ath is disappearing in the opposite direction. I tell Makri he’s gone. She sits up.
“I should never have got involved with an Elf.”
“Getting involved wasn’t the problem. It was the death threats afterwards that made the situation awkward. Does your wish never to talk to Elves again extend to female Elves?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Because I’ve been meaning to question Hanama about her new Elvish companion. An unknown woman with an unknown past. Not the sort of person who should be close to Lisutaris, given our present difficulties. Come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because normally I can’t exchange more than a word with Hanama without us getting into an argument. She likes you, maybe that will help.”
“Are you sure See-ath has gone?”
“Quite sure.”
“What if he comes back? Did he look like he was coming back?”
“Makri, please stop this. Let’s go and visit our so-called Chief of Intelligence.”
We leave the wagon. We’re now on the southern border of Simnia, and the Simnian army has met us as arranged, on time and in good order. Accompanying them are various units from the territories to the north of Simnia, including some from Gurd’s homeland. There are strange accents to be heard all over the enlarged camp, and, unfortunately, a lot of Simnians.
“I’ve never liked Simnians.”
“That’s the hundredth time I’ve heard you say that,” says Makri.
“It bears repeating.”
“I think it was the first thing I ever heard you say, when I first arrived in Turai. Followed by 'Can you buy me a beer?'”
Makri comes to a halt, and scowls. “I just remembered the third thing you said.”
“Which was?”
“If you can’t buy me a beer then take your pointy ears somewhere else, pointy-eared wench.“
“Forthright and to the point. I was toughening you up for city life.”
Hanama and her Intelligence Unit are quartered in a series of small, plain tents, pitched on the far side of Lisutaris’s large command tent. We pick our way through the guards, whose numbers have increased since our experience at the Oracle.
“Are you really suspicious of this Elvish woman? Or are you just looking for an excuse to criticise Hanama?”
“Both. She shouldn’t be introducing strange Elves into our ranks. And she deserves criticism. She’s an assassin. I don’t believe she has any loyalty to anyone except the Assassins' Guild. If Lisutaris thinks she can really trust her she’s making a mistake.”
“I trust Hanama,” says Makri.
“She’d kill you without a second thought if her Guild accepted a commission for the job.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
As we arrive, Hanama is sitting cross-legged on her own, in front of her tent. She regards me with no apparent emotion but she smiles when she sees Makri. The assassin’s smile doesn’t light up her face, though it does make her look even younger.
“Hello Makri, I’ve been meditating. Would you like some food?”
Makri politely declines. She never has much of an appetite. Hanama seems disappointed. I’m mildly offended that she didn’t offer me any food, not that I’d have taken it from an assassin anyway.
“Who is this Elvish woman you’ve employed?” I demand, getting straight to the point.