Back in Twelve Seas I buy a bundle of logs from a street vendor, stoke up the fire, open a beer and prepare to study the list. I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. I wrench it open and am surprised to find Senator Lodius, leader of the opposition party in Turai and sworn enemy of Cicerius. I’ve never spoken to Lodius. He did once violently denounce me to the Senate after I’d run into some trouble while working for Cicerius. The Chronicle ran a full report, listing many of my previous misdemeanours.
“Are you busy?” he enquires, politely.
The Senator is a man of medium height, about fifty or so but well preserved. He has something of an aristocratic air, though he styles himself leader of the democratic Populares party. He’s not particularly imposing in appearance but he’s handsome enough for a political leader, with blue eyes, short grey hair neatly styled and a well-cut toga just visible under a thick woollen cloak. He’s a powerful speaker when he has to be and he has a lot of support in this city.
“I’m busy. But come in anyway.”
I don’t know why he’s here. Lodius is far too important to be visiting me. I’ve never liked the man—he always gives me the impression of a politician who’d hitch his wagon to any cause which might bring him to power—but if he’s here to offer me some lucrative work I might be prepared to change my opinion.
The Senator is accompanied by two assistants, or bodyguards more likely, as Turanian politics is inclined to be violent. I kick some junk under the table, draw out a chair and motion the Senator to take a seat. Surprisingly, he accepts my offer of beer. He takes the bottle, doesn’t mind that I don’t have any goblets to hand, and gets right down to business.
“I understand you are busy, at the Sorcerers Assemblage?”
At the mention of the Assemblage I’m immediately on my guard.
“I wish you success,” he says. “It will be a fine thing for the city if our candidate is elected.”
I’m expecting Lodius to start in with some criticism of Cicerius and the Traditionals, but that doesn’t seem to be what he’s here for.
“I am hoping, however, that you will have time to perform another function. Have you heard of the impending demolition of the buildings around the collapsed aqueduct?”
“Yes.”
“Are you aware that the proposal to clear the area will make four hundred Turanians homeless?”
I wasn’t, though the way landlords crowd people into the slums, it’s not really a surprise.
“Praetor Capatius wishes to develop the land for profit,” continues Lodius. “As the richest man in the city and a strong supporter of the Traditionals, the Praetor has of course no regard for the rights of the ordinary citizen.”
By this time I’m eyeing the Senator warily. I don’t like where this is going.
“Are you aware of your powers as Tribune of the People?”
“I’ve a rough idea.”
The Senator nods. Then he asks me what I’m planning to do.
“I wasn’t planning to do anything.”
“Surely you do not wish to see these people made homeless, particularly in the middle of such a fierce winter?”
“I’d sooner they were warm and cosy. But I’m not really a Tribune. I was only given the post so I could get into the Assemblage.”
“Nonetheless, you have the power. Are you afraid that Cicerius would disapprove of you acting against his friend Capatius?”
“Not particularly. I just don’t see myself as a politician. And I’m busy.”
“Too busy to help your fellow citizens?”
If there’s one thing you can be sure of it’s that Lodius doesn’t care about his fellow citizens either, but I don’t seem to have the opportunity to point this out. He’s backing me into an awkward corner.
“Yes. I’m too busy. I’m already helping Turai by assisting Lisutaris. I can’t be rescuing the whole city. You’re head of a political party, why don’t you stop the evictions?”
“I don’t have the power. By some quirk of history, only the Tribunes can do that. A Tribune can insist that every legal step is followed to the letter in the matter of city development. Naturally, that was not what Cicerius had in mind when he nominated you, but the fact remains that you can prevent the eviction by referring the matter to the Senate. Once that has been done, I will take over.”
“Would this have anything to do with you needing four hundred votes in a vital ward that has an election next year?”
“I am concerned only with the plight of the poor.”
We stare at each other for a while. I’m wondering what pressure Lodius can bring to bear. While I don’t relish having him as a political enemy, Cicerius and the Traditionals still have more power. The Consul, Turai’s highest official, is always a Traditional, and they’re the party of the King. The last thing I want to do is end up an enemy of the King. The whole thing is extremely aggravating for a man who tries to stay out of politics. I inform the Senator that, sad as I am to see hardship among my fellow citizens, I’m not about to enter the political arena by vetoing Praetor Capatius. Senator Lodius sips his beer, and turns to speak to one of his assistants.
“Ivitius. Tell me again what you saw when you were visiting your cousin in Quintessence Street.”
“Thraxas the Investigator dumping a body over a wall,” says Ivitius.
“And what night was that?”
“The same night Darius Cloud Walker was killed.”
Lodius turns back to me.
“A very troubling affair, as you know. I understand that the Sorcerers Guild is currently extending its full powers in an effort to find out what happened to Darius Cloud Walker. But from what I hear, someone has cast a mystical shield over the events of the night in question. The Sorcerers are baffled, at least for the moment. Of course, they are lacking specific information. All they know is that the body was found in a snowdrift in Twelve Seas. If they had more facts—for instance, the exact location of the killing, and the identity of those around the victim at the time—I have no doubt that they could quickly learn the truth concerning his death.”
I can’t think of anything to say. I’m all out of words.
“My carriage is outside,” says the Senator. “I will take you to the site of the eviction. Nothing formal in the way of documentation is required. It is merely necessary for you to speak to the person in charge, one Vadinex, an employee of Capatius’s. Tell him that you are referring the matter to the Senate. Work will then cease, pending investigation.”
I still can’t think of anything to say. I get my cloak. We ride in silence along Quintessence Street. The snow and ice are thick on the ground, but Lodius has a sturdy carriage pulled by two equally sturdy horses and we reach the site of the eviction a lot quicker than I’d like to. The snow is falling on a dismal scene of workmen, city officials, lawyers, civil guards and poor tenants, all arguing bitterly. Despite the cold, violence is in the air as the Civil Guards hold back the crowd. Some of the slum dwellers scream from upstairs windows, aiming their anger at Vadinex, the man in charge.
I knew Vadinex in my army days. He stands about six and a half feet tall and he’s built like a bull. Once at a siege he won a commendation for being the first man over the wall. Praetor Capatius uses him for difficult assignments, and evicting a few poor tenants is all in a day’s work for him.
I really don’t want to be doing this. I notice Captain Rallee among the guards, and make my way towards him. Before I get there, a figure bursts through the crowd brandishing an axe. It’s Makri, clad in a thick cloak and her floppy hat, and bristling with weapons.
“You’re not going to evict Samanatius,” she yells.