For all that he’s a crusty specimen and was a poor soldier, Cicerius can move quickly when he needs to. He’s known for his quick wits in the Senate. As soon as I hold up the possibility of helping Lisutaris, he moves into action, dashing off an official letter and granting permission for me to visit Rezox in prison. And when I mention that Rezox may not be forthcoming with the important information, he replies brusquely that he can deal with that if necessary.
“His crime was to steal dragon scales from a warehouse? Tell me on the way why this is important. If he seems disinclined to co-operate, I can offer him his freedom.”
I wasn’t planning on taking Cicerius along with me but he insists. Inside he’s no calmer than me. We’re just waiting for the scandal to blow up in our faces. The Deputy Consul lives in fear of anything damaging the interests of his beloved Turai. Furthermore, the repercussions of Lisutaris’s arrest would hand a huge slice of harmful ammunition to Senator Lodius, head of the Populares. The opposition party will use Lisutaris’s downfall to smear Cicerius, and by association Kalius, the Consul, and even the King.
We hurry to the prison in Cicerius’s official carriage.
“Powdered dragon scales form part of a rare spell for erasing the past.”
Cicerius still maintains that things would never have gone so badly wrong if I had looked after Lisutaris properly.
“It could be worse. Certain members of the population of Twelve Seas are suggesting I use my Tribune’s powers to stop Praetor Capatius carrying out an eviction.”
Cicerius is incredulous.
“What? You will do no such thing.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to. Although they have a point. It’s hardly fair of the Praetor to use the cover of a fierce winter to evict the poor. You’d think the man had enough money already without tearing down his slums.”
I know this will annoy Cicerius. Capatius is a strong supporter of the Traditionals and a huge contributor to their funds.
“Presumably Capatius is set on improving the people’s housing conditions.”
I laugh, which annoys him.
“Capatius is set on improving his bank balance. Which is odd really, seeing as he owns his own bank. Doesn’t it bother the Traditionals that some of your supporters spend their whole life bleeding the poor?”
“I do not intend to discuss Turanian politics with an Investigator,” says Cicerius.
He doesn’t mind discussing politics when it suits him. We’ve arrived at the prison. We hurry inside. A Captain of the Guards salutes the Deputy Consul and leads us to Rezox. Cicerius’s assistant Hansius, arriving before us, has arranged for the interview in a private room. He’s an efficient young man, Hansius. He’ll go far.
In detention, Rezox looks about as miserable as a Niojan whore, and the sight of me coming for a visit doesn’t cheer him up any. Cicerius begins to speak. Not having time for long speeches, I interrupt.
“Rezox. I need to know who you were passing the dragon scales on to. Spill it and Cicerius will get you out of jail.”
“Is that true?”
“Sure it’s true. Cicerius has the green-edged toga. He can authorise it. So long as you tell me now.”
Rezox weighs things up. If he’s worried about the morality of selling out his partner, it doesn’t delay him for more than five seconds.
“Coralex,” he replies. “Up at the top of Pashish.”
“Coralex?” says Cicerius. “I know of him. He’s a respectable importer of wine.”
Coralex is the biggest disposer of stolen property in Turai. I thought everyone knew that.
“Cicerius, you’re much too trusting. Okay, I’m off to see Coralex.”
Before departing, I inform Cicerius that the threat from Covinius is now very real.
“I don’t know if he had anything to do with Darius’s murder but I know he’s in Turai. There’s a strong chance his target is Lisutaris.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s a Simnian Assassin, isn’t he? Sunstorm Ramius might be favourite to win the election but that doesn’t mean the Simnians won’t try to get rid of the opposition.”
“I regard that as highly unlikely,” replies Cicerius. “Simnia has never attempted assassination in the Sorcerers’ contest.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Might his purpose in Turai be unconnected with the Assemblage?”
“It might but we ought to assume the worst. Can you provide any more of a bodyguard for Lisutaris?”
The Deputy Consul nods.
“Is Coralex really a disposer of stolen goods?” he asks.
“One of the biggest.”
Cicerius shakes his head sadly.
“My household has purchased wine from his warehouse. Some citizens have lost all sense of morality.”
I depart swiftly on the trail of the dragon scales. My sense of morality went into decline a long time ago. It kept getting in the way of my work.
[Contents]
Chapter Twelve
Honest Mox’s bookmaking establishment is closed for the first time in living memory. The gambling fraternity of Twelve Seas are stunned. I’m standing outside in the snow with about twenty others, looking forlornly at the locked front door.
“What happened?”
“His son just died. From dwa.”
The frustrated gamblers shake their heads. It’s almost too bad to contemplate. We never thought we’d see the day when Mox had to close. There’s a general feeling that if we can make our way here through the bad weather, Mox ought to at least be able to keep his shop open.
People start drifting away, heading north towards the next bookmaker. It’s a frustrating occurrence. I was planning to lay off a little money on Ramius. As Lisutaris is likely to be slung out of the competition I really wanted to cover my losses with another bet. I’ve no time to visit another bookmaker. I need to see Coralex in a hurry. I curse. This job just gets worse and worse.
The wind howls down from the north. By the time I reach Coralex’s house in Golden Crescent, home of the richest merchants, I’m about as angry as a Troll with a toothache. The servant who answers the door tries to keep me out and I just walk over him. They don’t build many domestic servants that can stand up to me. Another functionary attempts to hold me back and I bat him out of the way. Coralex appears at the top of the stairs. I’ve encountered him before in the course of my work, though I’ve never invaded his home before. I march up the stairs and grab him by the throat.
“Coralex. I’m in a hurry. You got some dragon scales recently from a crooked merchant named Rezox. I want to know who you sold them to.”
“Throw this man out of the house,” yells Coralex.
An employee hurries into view, a more formidable specimen than the domestic servants. He’s tall and he carries a sword. I slam Coralex into him then grab him by the scruff of the neck and tumble him downstairs.
I turn back to Coralex.
“As I was saying. What happened to the dragon scales? Stop stammering, I don’t have time. I’m here with the backing of Deputy Consul Cicerius, and if I have to toss you downstairs, the Deputy will move Heaven, Earth and the three moons to see I don’t get prosecuted. He’s already very upset by what he just learned about you.”
The merchant hesitates. I touch my dagger.
“Spill it.”
Coralex spills it. At his age, he isn’t going to get off lightly from a trip down the stairs. A man of his wealth naturally has a very long staircase.
I leave the house with a lot of information, and curses raining down on me from Coralex, his wife, and a very pretty daughter who probably doesn’t know that her father deals in stolen goods. Outside the snow catches me in the face. I shake it off. Now that I’ve really offended someone, I feel like I’m working well. I have a list of the people who’ve recently bought dragon scales, and as these are not easy to come by there’s a good chance that the mysterious spell-worker will be among them.