'Another day serving the mercenary hordes. I'm making more money than I have done all year. Are you investigating?'
I shake my head.
'I can't. Today is the first day of troop practice. Weather permitting, my phalanx will be doing manoeuvres.'
'You have a phalanx?'
'Yes. Turanian phalanx number seven. We haven't met each other yet. Me and four hundred and ninety-nine others are going to be drilled in close formation work.'
Makri is interested, as she always is when it comes to fighting.
Are these all experienced men? You don't have a lot of time to learn manoeuvres.'
About half will be experienced. The young men won't be. It's up to us to show them the ropes. And you're right, we don't have a lot of time.'
Up till about ten years ago the whole male population used to do this sort of thing every year, but the city has let it slide recently.
'I think it was Consul Sebernius who stopped the regular drills, after the Honourable Merchants Association complained it was taking men away from their work and costing them money. It's a few years since I've even held a long spear in my hand. I expect it will come back soon enough.'
I pick up a long candle and start brandishing it enthusiastically, demonstrating to Makri how I held back the Ores at the Battle of Gorox River.
'Forced them into the river then slaughtered every one of them.'
'You outnumbered them two to one,' says Makri, who's been reading up on her military history.
'So? You don't stop to count heads when the Ores are coming at you in a phalanx with thirty-foot spears pointing in every direction. My phalanx did a fine job that day. Stayed rock solid, pushed them back and broke their ranks in two.'
I advance across the office with some gusto. The candle slips from my grasp and falls to the floor. I look at it rather ruefully.
'I expect it will all come back with practice.'
I hope it does. It's no easy task manoeuvring a phalanx of five hundred men, keeping everybody in the correct position during advance or retreat. You have to be able to run over rough terrain without breaking formation. A good phalanx will crash into the enemy in an unstoppable wave, or repulse an attack like an immovable wall, but it takes a lot of practice. I'm hoping that we have a competent commander. If it turns out to be some Senator's son who's never seen action, we'll be in trouble.
'What am I going to do in the war?' asks Makri 'They're not going to let me join the army. You know I'm going to fight anyway. Will I just have to walk out there on my own?'
'Difficult, Makri. Apart from Sorcerers, no Turanian women fight. Not officially anyway. I remember one woman joined up last time the Ores attacked. She dressed in men's clothes and fought in the light infantry and no one knew till she was killed and it was time to bury her.'
'Should I do that?'
'I don't think you'd get away with it. She was quite a brawny girl, passed for a man easily enough. You wouldn't. It's difficult. I don't really see where you might fit in.'
As well as the citizens' phalanxes, Senators' cavalry companies and mercenary squadrons there are various brigades of light troops - archers, crossbowmen, light cavalry and such like - but every one is commanded by someone from the senatorial class.
'They're just not going to let you join. But you know, if we suffer defeat in the field and the city comes under siege, no one's going to stop you defending the walls.'
'I'm not waiting till then,' states Makri, emphatically.
I promise to see what I can do. Maybe I can think of some way for Makri to enlist in the army. Really I'd prefer that she didn't. In a full-scale war with the Ores, casualties will be very heavy. I'd rather Makri was safe in the city. If we both enter the battle, it's very unlikely that we'll both survive it. I know from experience. When the last Ore War started I was a young man with a assortment of drinking buddies that could fill a tavern. When it ended I hardly had enough friends to fit round a table. You can't replace the companions of your youth. I still miss them, sometimes.
Winter is not the time for troop practice. It's going to be difficult finding many days that are mild enough to permit it. The authorities shouldn't have allowed this to happen. We're ill prepared. Turai has grown richer in the last decade but it has come at the expense of our defences. Now we're going to suffer for it.
Outside the snow has stopped but it's very cold. Fortunately I have my magic warm cloak which should last for half the day at least. I set off for the area around the Stadium Superbius, outside the city walls to the east, where the military training grounds are. Despite the bad weather, the imminent danger, and the frustrations of my current investigation, I'm feeling surprisingly good. Something about being a soldier again makes me feel alive. As I make my way through the Varquinius Gate I'm almost cheerful. When I find myself in the company of others I've fought with in the past, some of them men I haven't seen for fifteen years, I start to think that if I have to die in the upcoming war, it's not such a bad way to go. Maybe better than growing old and dying poor in Twelve Seas.
On reaching the appointed place, just south of the stadium, I join with the five hundred men of phalanx number seven. Some talk to their friends, some look thoughtful. Most just look cold. My feeling of well-being is enhanced when I recognise the tall figure of Senator Marius standing with his aide on a small knoll nearby. Senator Marius was a young commander of a phalanx in the last war. He did well and was commended for his bravery. If he's our commandeer, I'll be pleased. We could have fared a lot worse.
All around the stadium, other phalanxes have gathered for practice. Further away I can see a group of cross-bowmen practising with targets. Beyond them a company of light cavalry are wheeling in formation. I notice a few faces looking down at us from the walls of the Stadium Superbius. The mercenary army is quartered inside. Probably they're amused by the antics of the amateur citizen soldierly they're watching.
'We'll show them a thing or two,' I say, to the man next to me.
'Silence!' roars Senator Marius, right in my ear. 'Didn't you hear my order?'
Unfortunately I didn't. The Senator wrinkles his nose and looks at me suspiciously.
'I know you.'
'I don't think so . . .'
'You're Thraxas. You were in my uncle's regiment in the last war.'
'Really? I didn't know he was—'
'Silence!' roars Marius.
Marius is an unusually tall man and he stares down at me with distaste.
'I remember him talking about you. Half the time you were too drunk to hold your spear.'
This really is an injustice. It's the sort of wartime story that gets hopelessly exaggerated. Maybe it happened once or twice.
'Well there'll be no drinking on duty in my phalanx,' growls the Senator. "Turn up drunk and you'll be sorry. Gravius, keep an eye on this man.'
Centurion Gravius stares at me fiercely. I start to remember why life in the army wasn't so great. At this moment I'm under military discipline and the Senator has the power to lock me up for disobedience if he so wishes. Once you're in the ranks, even as a citizen soldier, your legal rights seem to vanish.
Marius still isn't satisfied. He reaches out a hand to finger my cloak.
'What's this? It's warm. You have a spell on your cloak?'
Under the gaze of the entire phalanx I'm feeling very uncomfortable.
'What sort of a man turns up for military duty with a magic warm cloak?' roars Senator Marius. 'Is this a regiment of women? Does the cold weather upset you?'
He stoops to place his face close to mine.
'You'll have a lot more to worry about than a little cold weather, you overweight excuse for a soldier! Now take that cloak off!'
I take it off, meanwhile cursing the bad fortune that has brought me into Marius's phalanx. The man is a petty dictator and a disgrace to the army. I wonder if I can pull some strings to get a transfer.