“It was clever of Senator Lodius to spot that you could aid him in this matter. It did not occur to me when I nominated you as Tribune of the People that this might happen. I regret that it has granted the Populares party a small victory. However, in the scheme of things it does not matter too much. But whatever happens, do not be drawn into further such actions.”
“I’ll try my best.”
Tilupasis joins us, neatly sidestepping a levitated goblet. In the midst of the uproar she remains unruffled. She gives a brief report to the Deputy Consul. Two days away from the vote, things are looking reasonably good, but she’s worried about the growing support for Almalas.
“Sareepa Lightning-Strikes-the-Mountain seems quite taken with him. God knows why.”
Cicerius is perturbed. Sareepa Lightning-Strikes-the-Mountain is head of the Sorcerers Guild in Mattesh, our southern neighbour.
“They have a lot of influence in the League of City States. Sareepa probably controls twelve votes. We can’t let them go to Nioj.”
“Didn’t we already pay Sareepa?”
“She gave the gold back,” explains Tilupasis. After listening to Almalas talking about a Sorcerer’s duty to God and state, she says she regrets even considering taking an immoral bribe.”
Tilupasis spreads her arms in despair.
“What am I meant to do with a senior Sorcerer who suddenly gets religion?”
“Increase the bribe?”
“It won’t work.”
“Send a young Tribune to her private chambers.”
“I already tried. She sent him away. And she instructed her delegation that thazis and dwa would no longer be tolerated. The woman’s gone mad with moral behaviour. Damn that priest Sorcerer.”
Tilupasis lays her hand on my shoulder.
“Thraxas, didn’t you know Sareepa Lightning-Strikes-the-Mountain when you were an apprentice?”
“Sure. She used to distil klee in a cauldron and invite young mercenaries to sample it, as I recall. The woman was never more than one step away from being slung out of the apprentices’ college. Weird that she should suddenly become respectable.”
“You have to change her back.”
“Pardon?”
“Get her drinking again. Once she’s got some klee inside her she’ll forget this Niojan ethical nonsense and take the bribe.”
I point out that I’m already busy doing various other vital tasks, and besides, I’m not what you’d call a skilful diplomat.
“No one’s going to vote for Turai on my recommendation.”
“How important are Sareepa’s votes?” Cicerius asks Tilupasis.
“Absolutely vital.”
Cicerius draws himself up to his full height, adjusts his toga, and turns to me.
“I’m ordering you to get her drunk,” he says. “Don’t argue. You’re the man for the job.”
[Contents]
Chapter Fourteen
Irith Victorious is lying belly-up on the floor of the drinking area. His companions are laid out beside him on a bed of tangled rainbow cloaks. Tilupasis ordered the closure of a busy local tavern in order to divert its entire supply of ale to the Juvalian Sorcerers. When that proved insufficient she ordered the next tavern to close, bringing in its beer and klee as reinforcements. Finally overwhelmed by the flood of free alcohol, the Juvalians are now rarely conscious and spend their days in a stupor, awakening only to drink. They’ve promised to cast their votes for Lisutaris.
Not far away, the five members of the Misan delegation lie dwa’d out of their heads, courtesy of Tilupasis. She had the drug brought in from the confiscated supplies stored at the Abode of Justice. Officially these mounds of dwa should have been destroyed, but Tilupasis seems to have the authority to do just about anything.
Four Sorcerers from the far western state of Kamara who once strode confidently into the Royal Hall are now unfit to leave their private quarters after a forty-eight-hour orgy of unprecedented degeneracy. Some of the Kamaran tastes were, strictly speaking, illegal in Turai, but not beyond the organisational powers of Tilupasis and the city’s efficient brothel keepers. The Kamarans have promised that when they recover, they’ll be sure to vote for Lisutaris.
What Sunstorm Ramius makes of all this I don’t know. I’m certain his Simnian delegation has also been indulging in bribery but I can’t imagine it’s on anything like the vast scale of corruption wrought by Tilupasis on behalf of our city. Thanks to us, the Sorcerers Assemblage has descended into an unparalleled orgy of illicit gold, extravagant drunkenness, wanton sex and extreme drug abuse. It makes a man proud to be Turanian.
“You Turanians are a filthy, degenerate nation,” says Sareepa Lightning-Strikes-the-Mountain.
I’ve sought her out to say a friendly hello. So far it’s not going well.
“I cannot believe the way the Sorcerers are behaving. I blame Turai, the entire city is corrupt.”
“It’s really not so bad. . . .”
“It is vile,” insists Sareepa. “Thank God for Almalas. He is a beacon of light in this foul den of corruption.”
Is this really the same Sareepa Lightning-Strikes-the-Mountain I used to know? When we were fifteen she’d already worked her way through the male population of the district and was looking to neighbouring towns for new lovers.
“Why are prayer calls ignored at this Assemblage?” she demands.
“A little laxity is common at such events.”
“A little laxity? Not for the Niojans. They pray six times a day. Would that others would follow their example. Thraxas, you must escape from this iniquity. I will introduce you to Almalas.”
“Could we perhaps discuss this over a bottle of wine?” I venture, remembering my mission.
Sareepa looks as if she’s about to explode.
“Wine? Do you realise—”
At this moment some Sorcerers stumble between us in drunken pursuit of a levitated beer barrel.
“A flagon of klee to the man who brings it down,” shouts one of their number, and starts firing bolts of light from his staff.
Sareepa is rendered temporarily speechless. Realising that alcohol is not the best subject to be discussing, I turn the conversation to Darius’s apprentice.
“Left Abelesi with a powerful hatred for Darius. Settled in Mattesh, I believe?”
Sareepa knows the apprentice in question.
“Quite a powerful Sorcerer these days. He’s here with us.”
“With you? How?”
It turns out that said apprentice finished his studies, took up Matteshan citizenship, and is now a fully fledged Sorcerer in attendance with the rest of the delegation.
“He still hated Darius,” agrees Sareepa. “But don’t go suspecting him of murder. My delegation is firmly under my control.”
I ask for an introduction anyway, which Sareepa agrees to make, providing I’m sober. The woman really hates alcohol. It’s a sad state of affairs.
“Have you ever come across a spell for making a new version of reality and sending it back in time?” I ask.
“There’s no such spell,” replies Sareepa. “No one could do that.”
Moments later I’m apprehended by a furious Makri.
“You know what happened? I was just telling Direeva how I once killed three Trolls with my bare hands in the arena, and that creepy Troverus smiled in this really annoying manner and said he’d come to the Assemblage to forget about unpleasant things like fighting and then whisked Direeva off for dinner!”
“Couldn’t you have stopped them?”
“I was too taken aback by anyone wanting to forget about fighting,” complains Makri. “By the time I recovered, they were gone. Damn that Troverus. I don’t trust him at all. Right this moment he’s charming Direeva over a bottle of wine, and who knows what’ll happen after that? And he’s not that handsome anyway. See-ath was a lot better-looking and he never said he was bored with my fighting stories. I hate these smooth-talking Simnians. What am I meant to do now?”