I’m suddenly doubtful.
“Or are we? Or is all magic space the same big dimension?”
“Sort of,” replies Direeva, unhelpfully. “This is the Maze of Aero. Do not separate or you will become lost. Remain silent while I bring us close to the entry point of the others.”
Direeva leads us through the maze. It’s hard to keep our bearings as we’re surrounded on all sides by the huge hedge. Everywhere looks the same but Direeva seems to know where she’s going. Finally, after some twisting and turning, she leads us to a clearing wherein there is a small pool. On the other side of the pool a green light is beginning to glow. Direeva motions for us to withdraw behind the foliage.
So far this magic space seems to be behaving itself reasonably well. The sun is a horrible colour but the hedge isn’t doing anything weird. Not turning into giant mushrooms, for instance. You can’t trust this place, though. If we get out without encountering an erupting volcano I’ll count myself lucky.
From behind the hedge I hear voices, first that of Charius the Wise.
“You are now in the Maze of Aero. Here is your test.”
“What is this?” enquires Lisutaris.
“A sequence of numbers,” replies Charius. “Your task is to find the next number in the sequence and bring it to me. The first person to do so will be the next head of the Sorcerers Guild.”
“What sort of test is that?” demands Lisutaris, sounding displeased.
“It is the test I have set you.”
“I’m not a mathematician,” declares Lisutaris. “I do not count this as a proper test.”
There is no sound of protest from Sunstorm Ramius. Maybe he’s a mathematician. Or maybe he’s about to cheat. Already I’m highly suspicious. I peer round the hedge. Charius is disappearing into the green light and Ramius is exiting through the opposite gap in the hedge. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, is dragging a large water pipe out of her personal magic pocket.
“That’s not going to help,” I say, stepping forward.
Lisutaris looks round.
“Nothing’s going to help. Look at this.”
She hands over a sheet of parchment. On it are written the numbers 391, 551, 713.
“Anyone know what the next number might be?”
No one knows.
“It seems like an odd sort of test,” says Direeva.
“Don’t you know, Makri? You study mathematics.”
“I’ll try and work it out,” says Makri, but she looks puzzled.
“You do that,” says Lisutaris, and takes hold of the water pipe.
“For God’s sake, you can’t just give up,” I shout. “Not after all the effort we went to to get you here. Do something.”
“What? I’m no good at numbers. Never was.”
“Summon up a mathematical spirit or something.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“There must be some magical way of finding the next number. Otherwise Charius wouldn’t have set it as a test.”
Direeva wonders, like me, if this might have been arranged in some way for Ramius to win. Perhaps the Simnians didn’t bother bribing the Sorcerers because they’d already bribed Charius.
“If he walks back in here in thirty seconds with the right number, I’m going to be pretty suspicious.”
A unicorn walks by. We ignore it.
“Maybe they have mathematical spirits in Simnia.”
“Maybe,” says Lisutaris. “But not in Turai. I’m stumped.”
She lights the water pipe. I can’t believe she’s giving up so easily. Direeva suddenly makes a warning sound. Close to us, a green light is starting to glow. We all hurry behind the hedge, and peer round the edge just in time to see a dark shape disappearing into the forest.
“Covinius!” whispers Princess Direeva. “He’s come, as I thought he would.”
“Are you sure that was Covinius? I couldn’t see his face.”
“Who else would it be?”
Direeva steps forward.
“I will take care of him. Lisutaris, you must do what you can with the test.”
With that Direeva strides off, her long hair swinging in the light breeze.
I turn to Makri.
“Stay here with Lisutaris.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to see what I can find.”
“You’ll get lost.”
“No I won’t. I know all about sorcerous mazes. Maybe if I can rustle up a talking pig he’ll know the next number in the sequence.”
“The next number,” grumbles Lisutaris. “The whole thing is ridiculous. Who knows anything about mathematics?”
“Simnian Sorcerers, maybe.”
Lisutaris sits down with her pipe.
“It’s not a fair test,” she mutters, sounding irritatingly like a schoolchild. “I was expecting to be damming a river. Or building a mountain. I could have done that.”
“Fair or not, we have to find it quick, before Ramius. I’m damned if I’ve come this far just to let a Simnian win.”
Lisutaris doesn’t seem to care. She’s given up. Her hair is still beautifully styled. At a reception at the Imperial Palace, other women would be eyeing her with envy.
[Contents]
Chapter Eighteen
I set off through the Maze of Aero, leaving Makri to guard Lisutaris. I’m guessing that despite her firm intentions of remaining sober Makri will soon join in on the water pipe. It’s a deficiency in her character, brought about by having pointed ears. It will serve them right if Covinius kills Direeva and then chops their heads off. Some bodyguard. Ever since Makri started blubbering about that damned Elf See-ath she’s been as much use as a one-legged gladiator.
Was that really Covinius? Direeva seemed certain, but so what? I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone. Lisutaris is a disaster. Makri’s unreliable. Cicerius is hopeless. Tilupasis is a joke. Praetor Samilius couldn’t investigate the theft of a baby’s rattle. Everyone in Turai is useless. If it wasn’t for me the city would have fallen long ago. I get out my sword and march through the maze. I dislike mazes, magical or not. They’re irritating and pointless. Trust Charius the Wise to send us here.
I turn a corner and almost bump into a small figure I recognise. It’s Hanama, garbed in black, with a knife in her hand.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I tell her.
“Neither are you,” she replies.
“I’ve got more right than you.”
“No you haven’t.”
“I’m a Tribune of the People. You’re just an Assassin.”
“Since when could a Tribune of the People—an honorary title at best—interfere with the sacred final test of the Sorcerers Guild?”
“Since I decided it was my duty.”
“Your duty? Very amusing. Step aside, Investigator.”
“How did you get in here? And what are you doing here anyway?”
“Protecting Lisutaris. So I have no time to talk,” says Hanama, and walks past. I stare at her retreating figure.
“I’ve got more right to be here than you!” I roar. “I’m a Tribune!”
Hanama is now out of sight. Damn these Assassins. Always turning up when you don’t want them.
I walk on. By Hanama’s standards that was quite talkative. Maybe she’s warming to me. Another unicorn appears. Or maybe it’s the one I saw earlier. They all look much the same. It trots in my direction. Perhaps it can help. In the magic space, anything is possible. The sun’s just gone green, and the daisies are up to my waist.
“Greetings, unicorn. Have you seen a Simnian Sorcerer called Sunstorm Ramius?”
The unicorn regards me in silence.
“About so high,” I say, waving my hand. “Probably scowling.”
Behind me there’s a burst of raucous laughter.
“He’s trying to question a unicorn!”
I spin round. Quite a large squirrel is laughing at me.
“Don’t you know unicorns can’t talk?”