Senior Storm Class Sorcerer Habintenat salutes, then departs, squelching his way through thick mud and puddles. Where only half an hour ago there were rows of neatly laid out tents, there are now nothing but fields of ruined, drenched canvas. Wagons have sunk up to their axles in the mud. Horses whinny as they try to shake themselves dry, and soldiers wander around looking confused. By this time Lisutaris’s young aide-de-camp Julius has arrived and an array of junior officers and young sorcerers are gathering round the wreckage of the command tent. Lisutaris barks out instructions to her messengers, telling them to summon her commanding officers and her senior sorcerers. They depart as quickly as they can, which is not all that quickly, given the mud, water and general chaos. There’s a moment of silence. I shiver as water runs down my neck.
“I’m as wet as a mermaid’s blanket.”
“We all are, Captain Thraxas.” Lisutaris looks down at her rainbow cloak with some disgust. “This is ruined. I really should have put a waterproofing spell on it. I wasn’t expecting a storm. No one was. Our weather unit is meant to prevent enemy sorcerers from attacking us this way.”
“Are you sure it was sorcery?” asks Makri.
“Quite sure. Not only was it sorcery, it was a weather spell more powerful than I’ve ever encountered this far inland. Producing so much rain without easy access to the sea or a nearby lake is very difficult.”
All three of us, Lisutaris, Makri and I, have our hair hanging round our frames as if we’ve just been dragged from the ocean. It’s a funny sight, in a way, though I decide not to mention it.
“Captain Thraxas. This simply cannot go on. Look at the chaos everywhere. This storm will delay our march for a day or more and may well make us late for our rendezvous with the Niojans. Deeziz the Unseen is somewhere nearby and I want her found. You’re my Personal Chief of Security, so find her. Find her quickly or I’ll appoint someone else who can.
“I’m doing my best.” That sounds limp as soon as I say it.
“Then your best isn’t good enough. I’ve heard you bragging about your investigating prowess often enough. It’s time to show some results.”
“I’ve been - ”
“Drinking mainly, from what I hear,” growls Lisutaris, who’s too wet and angry to listen to anything I have to say. “I’d have replaced you already if I wasn’t trying to keep it secret that Deeziz is here.”
“We came here looking for Megleth, Commander,” says Makri, something I’d almost forgotten.
“The Elf? Why?”
“Captain Thraxas thought she might be assassinating you.”
“Captain Thraxas should spend more time on his own duties.”
“Captain Hanama refuses to give me any information about her, Commander. I need to know more, for security reasons.”
“Megleth does not require checking,” says Lisutaris.
“Who is she and what’s she doing?”
“Forget Megleth. Find Deeziz. If the army learns we’re in danger from an Orcish sorcerer it will be a disaster.”
A loud splashing noise nearby alerts us to the arrival of Legate Apiroi. He arrives looking surprisingly dry, though his boots are covered in mud.
“Commander Lisutaris,” he says, loudly. “What’s this I hear about an Orcish sorcerer? Rumours are spreading that Deeziz the Unseen is among is! Is this true?”
“Absolute nonsense!” says Lisutaris.
“People are saying she caused the storm!”
“Then people are mistaken. Weather anomalies will happen, Legate.”
Lisutaris shoots me a murderous look, the meaning of which is quite clear. Find Deeziz the Unseen or say goodbye to my position as Chief Security Officer. I withdraw swiftly. Makri follows me a little way through the mud.
“Shouldn’t you be looking after our War Leader?”
“I’m keeping her in sight,” says Makri. “I’m just withdrawing a few yards till her temper cools.”
“Has she been criticising you too?”
Makri nods, and looks glum “Yesterday she criticised me for making too much noise when she was trying to think. I was only practising with my swords. I need to do that every day.”
Makri has one Elvish sword, bright silver, beautifully made. The other is her black Orcish blade, a foul-looking weapon which seems to suck in light rather than reflect it. Most people would regard it as an ill-omened weapon. The Niojan Bishop-General would probably regard it as sacrilegious even to draw it from its scabbard in his presence.
“I’ve been working hard on this investigation,” I tell Makri. “Not that Lisutaris appreciates it. It’s outrageous for her to insult me. I rescued her from Turai!”
“As you never tire of pointing out.”
“The stress is getting to her. She can’t cope. A good War Leader doesn’t let her temper blind her to the fine qualities of her staff, particularly Captain Thraxas, warrior of Turai.”
“Did you know Kublinos has been walking around with a pretty Elvish sorcerer?”
I’m confused by the sudden change of topic. “Kublinos?”
“The Harbour Sorcerer from the Port of Orosis.”
“I know who you mean. What about him?”
“He was courting Lisutaris quite strongly back in Elath.”
“So what? Lisutaris wasn’t interested in him.”
“I know. But now he’s met this Elf from the Elvish Sorcerers regiment and he’s been going round everywhere with her, and bringing her to sorcerers' meetings.”
“So what?”
“I think it might have contributed to Lisutaris being in a bad mood.”
I stare blankly at Makri. “Why would that put her in a bad mood?”
“Because Kublinos is walking around with a pretty Elvish sorcerer.”
“But Lisutaris wasn’t interested in him.”
“That doesn’t mean she wants to see him just forget about her immediately and meet up with someone else. It’s insulting.”
“Why is it insulting?”
“He should have been sad for longer after Lisutaris rejected him.”
“That doesn’t make sense!”
“Yes it does,” insists Makri. “He should have been sad for longer, instead of grabbing hold of the first pretty Elf woman who came along. Now it looks like being rejected by Lisutaris didn’t mean anything.”
I feel a desperate urge for beer. I look around, just in case a bottle or two might be floating past in the rivers of mud, but there’s none in sight.
“I don’t think she likes Kublinos flaunting his new woman at sorcerers' meetings,” says Makri.
I’m convinced she’s talking nonsense. “How could you know this? Aren’t you, by your own admission, completely hopeless at everything to do with romance?”
“Only my own romances. I can see what’s going on with other people.”
“And you’re saying this is contributing to Lisutaris’s bad mood?”
“I think so.”
“Well that’s great. Now we’re really doomed. Not only is our War Leader bested at every turn by a superior Orcish Sorcerer, she’s also sulking like a schoolgirl because her boyfriend doesn’t like her anymore. I tell you Makri, this is what happens when you put women in charge. I knew it was a mistake. Lisutaris probably can’t cope with Deeziz because she’s too busy fashioning love charms to make Kublinos jealous. The West is going down in flames because Lisutaris is sulking about a man she didn’t even like in the first place. We should never have made her War Leader. She’d be better off looking after Tirini. They could talk about shoes together.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. And I don’t like you insulting women.”
“Really? You’re no better. How many vital messages from the Elves have we missed because you’ve been skulking around, hiding from See-ath?”