“Why me?” says Makri, getting belligerent.
“You’re her bodyguard.”
“She’s still alive, isn’t she?”
“Just about. No thanks to you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean as a bodyguard you’re as much use as a eunuch in a brothel. When the Brotherhood knocked on my door you were unconscious, and when Capatius’s thugs attacked us you collapsed in a heap.”
Makri is irate.
“Stop bringing that up. Who saved you last year when we were attacked by Orcs? And who defeated Kirith-ar-Yell? He was about to chop your head off till I tossed him off that balcony.”
“I’d have managed.”
“Only if Kirith had stopped for a beer.”
“Do you have to argue all the time?” says Direeva, angrily.
“Who asked you to get involved?” I retort, aggressively.
“Who is it that is going to take us into the magic space?”
“I’d have found a way in anyway.”
“The only thing you’d find would be Lisutaris’s wine cellar.”
Our nerves are beginning to fray. Fortunately Lisutaris arrives downstairs in time to prevent us from becoming violent. We’re not the only ones whose nerves are frayed. At the Assemblage the atmosphere is unusually tense. The Sorcerers are quieter. Whether this is because they’ve heard some ugly rumours or just because on this day they are required to tone down the celebrating, I don’t know, but even Irith Victorious looks subdued. Cicerius practically bites my head off when I’m forced to report no progress on the murder.
“You think this is easy? I’m trying to unravel some sorcerous plot the like of which no one has ever encountered before. Someone very smart entered my office to kill Darius and no one even knows why. And don’t forget everything else I’ve had on my plate, like helping your friend Tilupasis bribe our way to victory. And guarding Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, against Covinius, whoever the hell Covinius is. When you gave me the job you didn’t mention the Simnians had hired an Assassin to kill our candidate.”
“I am still not certain that is the case,” says the Deputy Consul.
“Well, I am. Lisutaris knows that Sunstorm Ramius hired an Assassin, and that’s good enough for me.”
Sulinius hurries into the private room, looking harassed.
“How dare you arrive late on such an important day,” declares the Deputy Consul, and starts giving him a lecture.
“Visus is dead,” gasps Sulinius.
“Dead?”
“A dwa overdose. Last night.”
Sulinius seems on the verge of tears at the death of his young companion. Cicerius is speechless.
“I’ll see that it’s kept quiet,” says Tilupasis, and leaves the room in a hurry. Cicerius recovers swiftly and tells Sulinius to pull himself together.
“It is time for all Turanians to do their duty.”
All the Turanians who appear in the Deputy Consul’s room are already stressed from doing their duty. Praetor Samilius sullenly admits that none of his Investigators have found out anything about anything. Samilius is resentful that as head of the Civil Guard he wasn’t informed of events earlier. Old Hasius the Brilliant, briefly visiting before going to help with the final test, informs us sharply that he still believes Lisutaris to be guilty.
“I do not know why Lasat, Axe of Gold, is allowing her to continue,” he says. “But I do know that it is pointless.”
“The King’s administration does not believe it to be pointless,” says Cicerius.
“Then the King’s administration is acting more foolishly than usual.”
The Deputy Consul glares at Hasius, but the Sorcerer is far too old and venerable to be intimidated by anyone. Consul Kalius arrives and Hasius reminds him that he said all along that Lisutaris was not a suitable candidate for head of the Sorcerers Guild. From the look on Kalius’s face, he probably agrees, but he’s stuck with it now.
The test is due to start in one hour. No one has any idea what it will consist of. Charius will call Lisutaris and Ramius and the three of them will step into the mouth of the magic space. Charius will then give them their task.
I draw Cicerius aside for a private word and inform him that Direeva believes she can penetrate the magic space. Cicerius is pleased, though he expresses some concern.
“If Turai is found to have interfered with the test, Lisutaris will be disqualified.”
“We’ll be discreet. Direeva thinks she can get us in unobserved.”
Tilupasis returns from hushing up the death of Tribune Visus.
“An unfortunate occurrence.”
“Very,” agrees Cicerius. “Young men should stay clear of dwa.”
I find this hard to take.
“Stay clear of it? He was practically ordered to take it. You ought to give him a medal, he died in the line of duty.”
“So you will enter the magic space with Direeva and Makri?” says Tilupasis, briskly ignoring my barb.
“That’s the plan. If Covinius arrives Direeva will distract him. Meanwhile Makri protects Lisutaris and I do whatever I can to help. If Sunstorm Ramius looks like he’s winning, he’s going to find me in his face. Have you managed to find out anything about the test?”
Tilupasis shakes her head. Charius has continued to be incorruptible.
“It might not matter,” I point out. “Lisutaris could probably dam a magic river as well as Ramius, providing she isn’t too stoned.”
“And is she?”
“She’s coming round.”
In the main hall the Sorcerers are gathered in their delegations. Sobriety prevails, as is traditional. Even the most hardened hedonist—Irith, for example—is strongly discouraged from enjoying himself while the test is in progress. I notice Irith and his large companions sitting bored at a table at the far side of the room. I’d like to greet them but I hesitate. I was discreet when I pumped them for information, and even more discreet when I passed the information on to Tilupasis. There’s nothing really to connect me with the robbery. But Sorcerers usually have finely developed intuition. I’d be surprised if they don’t work out what I was about, eventually.
So far at the Assemblage there has been little ceremony since the King’s speech of welcoming. Today is rather different, and once again all non-Sorcerers are banished from the main hall as the two candidates approach the tall robed figures of Lasat, Axe of Gold, and Charius the Wise. Charius has a small globe in his hand, the artefact which he will use to create the magic space. The last thing I see is Lisutaris laying her hand on the globe while the entire Guild looks on in silence. In a way, it’s a sacred moment. I hurry to Cicerius’s private room to get on with the business of corrupting it.
Princess Direeva and Makri are already there. Makri reports that Lisutaris left her with a clear mind.
“I managed to get her focused.”
Direeva waves her hand to silence us.
“We must enter now.”
“Shouldn’t we give them a start?”
“Not if you want to find out what the test is. Now be silent.”
Cicerius steps well out of the way. Direeva takes a small fragment of dragon scale from her hair and holds it in the palm of her hand. She stares at it for a few seconds then mutters a sentence in one of the arcane Sorcerers’ languages. The room goes cool. An aura of green light forms round the dragon scale, growing in size till it’s the height of a man.
“Let us go,” says the Princess, and steps into the light.
Makri walks quickly in behind her. I hesitate for a second. The magic space isn’t a place I really want to visit again. I turn to Cicerius.
“I’m adding this to my bill,” I say, then tramp forward into a place where the sun is a vile shade of purple and we are surrounded on all sides by a tall hedge.
“Where’s the talking pig?” asks Makri, looking around.
The last time we were in the magic space we met a pig which was, as I remember, a fairly intelligent creature.
“It won’t be here. We’re in a different part of the magic space.”