The only other task I’m given is to call in at a local Civil Guard station to bail out two Samsarinans who found themselves in some trouble after an argument at the card table in a tavern. Tilupasis refunds their losses, promises to show them a more hospitable venue for gambling the next night and charms them sufficiently to make some inroads on the Samsarinan delegation. Samsarina have their own candidate, Rokim the Bright, but Tilupasis hopes to persuade them to switch their eighteen votes to Lisutaris if things seem hopeless for their candidate.
“Eighteen second-choice votes,” she says. “At present they’re attached to the Simnian, but I’m hoping we can sway them.”
Tilupasis is proving to be a highly efficient organiser and has boundless energy. Her main worry is Princess Direeva. In a tight contest the thirty Sorcerers under her influence are looking more important than ever, but they’re intending to vote for Darius Cloud Walker, the Abelasian. Direeva has known him for a long time, and trusts him.
“I can’t seem to get to Direeva. Her representative rebuffed a very generous offer. She doesn’t appear to want for anything. She wasn’t interested in gold and she didn’t seem to take to either Visus or Sulinius.”
At least Lisutaris is holding up, just about. Accompanied by Makri, she greets her fellow Sorcerers, quite charmingly from what I can tell, disappearing only occasionally to indulge her need for thazis. So far she has not disgraced Turai by falling over in public. I’ve informed Tilupasis and Cicerius about the possible involvement of a Simnian Assassin. Cicerius is sceptical.
“Palace Security would have notified me if Covinius had entered Turai,” says the Deputy Consul. “I can’t believe that Lisutaris is in danger of being assassinated. The Sorcerers’ election is keenly contested but there has never been an assassination. Who is meant to have hired him?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll check it out as soon as I can.”
Tilupasis promises to discreetly inform the other Turanian Sorcerers of the warning so they can watch out for Lisutaris, just in case the threat turns out to be real. Which, along with Makri, gives her quite a lot of protection. I’ve sent a message to Hanama requesting a meeting, but have had no reply as yet.
I excuse myself from Tilupasis as it seems like a long time since I had a beer. Close to the Room of Saints, I bump into Makri.
“Any trouble?”
Makri shakes her head.
“No trouble.”
At this moment Princess Direeva appears at our side. Ignoring me, she introduces herself to Makri.
“I am Princess Direeva,” she says. “And you are?”
“Makri.”
The Princess nods.
“I thought so. Champion gladiator of all the Orc lands, I believe?”
Princess Direeva is apparently impressed.
“I understand you were undefeated for five years?”
“Six,” says Makri.
“Really? And you once fought a dragon in the arena?”
“I did.”
Direeva seems intrigued. Her extraordinary hair sways gently as she talks, making the gold streaks and glittering beads sparkle in the light. There may be a touch of Orcish blood about the Princess herself. Though only Human Sorcerers can stand for the post of Guild leader, there are various Sorcerers in attendance with Elvish blood in their veins, so I suppose a little Orc isn’t such a surprise. The Sorcerers are not so formal as many of the city’s Guilds. Makri would be bounced right out of a meeting of the goldsmiths, but goldsmiths are always very concerned about etiquette.
I’ve heard Makri bragging about her accomplishments in the arena enough times already, and Princess Direeva shows no interest in talking to me, so I slip off. In the Room of Saints Tilupasis is encouraging some Pargadans to drink more wine. She asks me what Princess Direeva wanted with Makri.
“A friendly chat.”
“Really?”
Tilupasis’s eyes light up.
“Excellent. We may have found something the Princess is interested in.”
I spend the rest of the day drinking with Irith Victorious. He asks me how I’m coping with my official duties.
“It’s all right. Better than rowing a slave galley. It wasn’t like I had anything else planned for the winter.”
One of Irith’s companions teaches me an improved warming spell for my cloak. So now I’m warm and I have plenty of free beer. I’m starting to enjoy this assignment.
The light fades early and I arrive home in darkness. I take care climbing the stairs to my office. I may be full of beer but Thraxas, number one chariot among Turai’s Investigators, has never been known to fall off his own staircase. I’m nearly as happy as a drunken mercenary. These Sorcerers from Juval know how to enjoy themselves. Maybe I should move down there. Be better than this lousy city.
“Better than this lousy city!” I yell into the darkness. There’s no one around and I take the opportunity to bellow the last verse of an old army drinking song before entering my office in a cheerful manner and finding Makri, Lisutaris and Princess Direeva all unconscious on the floor. Darius Cloud Walker is lying dead beside them with a knife in his back. I blink. It isn’t a sight I was expecting.
The sheer awfulness of the situation almost paralyses me. The room stinks of dwa and thazis. I’m full of beer. I can’t cope with a dead Sorcerer. I’m still trying to take it in when there’s a knock on the door and a voice I recognise shouts my name.
“Thraxas. We want to talk to you.”
It’s Karlox, an enforcer for the Brotherhood. I mutter a foul curse at Makri for landing me in this situation. From the look of her face I’d say she’s been indulging in more dwa than she can handle. If the overdose doesn’t kill her I swear I’ll do it myself.
My first thought is to kill Karlox, get on a horse, ride out of town and keep going. The situation is so grim as to defy description. When Cicerius hired me to help Lisutaris he wasn’t expecting me to lure her rivals to my office and have them murdered, which is what this is going to look like. I’m heading for the scaffold in the exotic company of Makri, Lisutaris and Princess Direeva, and that’s going to make a fine story for The Renowned and Truthful Chronicle.
“Open up, Thraxas,” shouts Karlox. “I know you’re in there.”
Karlox may be dumb as an Orc but he’s a loyal member of the Brotherhood, not the sort of man to give in easily. I’ve a shrewd idea he’s here investigating the recent death of their dwa dealer, and that’s a big enough problem in itself. Makri killed him and at this moment she’s unconscious at my feet and there’s an important Sorcerer dead on the floor. It would be easy to panic.
I’m not a man to panic. I remain silent and quickly weigh up the situation. I doubt that Karlox is here alone. He knows he couldn’t get the better of me without help. If he’s here with a gang, he’ll be able to break down the door, minor locking spell or not. The one thing I can’t afford to happen is for any witnesses to see Darius lying alongside Makri. Particularly as it’s Makri’s knife that’s sticking in his back.
If I move the body I’ll be in endless difficulties later. If I don’t move it I’ll be in endless difficulties right now. Karlox beats on the door and I can hear him giving orders to start breaking it down. I hoist the unfortunate Darius over my shoulder and stagger to the inner door. Darius doesn’t weigh that much. The shock of these events has sobered me up just enough not to fall and break my neck as I make my way down the stairs and through to the back of the tavern. To my surprise, Gurd and Tanrose are still about, making preparations for tomorrow’s food.
“What—?”
“Can’t stop. Go upstairs and look after Makri till I get back. The Brotherhood are about to break the door down.”
Gurd picks up his axe and they depart swiftly. I carry on through to the yard. Ideally I’d like to dump the body as far away as possible, but I can’t risk being seen from the front of the tavern so I can think of nothing better to do than heave the body over the wall into the next yard. It’s a high wall and I’m panting with the exertion. The snow billows around me, muffling any sound.