My magic warm cloak is in my room. I don't want to go upstairs while all those women are still there. Cursing them for making me venture out into the grim winter evening without the benefit of my cloak, I head out into Quintessence Street. The first people I bump into are Palax and Kaby, a young pair of buskers who earn their living by singing and performing acrobatics on street corners. Generally domiciled in a caravan behind the Avenging Axe, they've been out of the city for a while, plying their trade in foreign parts. They've now returned to spend the winter in Turai. A poor choice, given what's coming.
I used to be suspicious of the young couple, primarily because of their unheard-of sartorial outrages -Palax has parts of his hair dyed green, and Kaby has piercings through her lips and eyebrow, things which would cause any normal citizen to be stoned in the streets and maybe thrown from the city walls, but as travelling musicians, they seem to get away with it. These days I'm used to them, and greet them politely enough.
'Just made it back in time. The roads are almost impassable. We thought we were going to get stuck.'
'You might wish you had, if you're still here in the spring.'
I notice Kaby is carrying a bundle wrapped in paper.
'What's that?'
'Flowers,' says Kaby.
'We brought them for Makri,' says Palax.
'We know how much she likes them.'
I bid them a stiff goodbye and depart along the frozen stretch of Quintessence Street. I'm really sick of this city. A man can't live an honest life here any more. The whole place is degenerate. If the Ores burn the place down they'll be doing us all a favour.
There are few people about on Quintessence Street. I realise I'm not carrying my sleep spell or any other form of sorcerous protection. I'd have to look at the written spell in my grimoire to learn it again. Which of course would mean going to my office. Another reason to curse Makri and her friends. Only a few hours ago I was attacked in the street. For all I know, another band of assailants could be on their way at this moment. I wonder who they were and who sent them. If anyone in the city is feeling nervous because of my current investigation, they must imagine I've made a lot more progress than I actually have.
A voice from a doorway calls out my name. A ragged figure, shivering in the cold. It's Kerk. An informer of mine, or used to be. These days he's so deep in his dwa addiction he's not much use for anything, except begging.
'I've got something for you,' he says, eagerly.
'What?'
Kerk holds out his hand for money.
'It's a long time since you gave me any useful information.'
Kerk is in a bad way. He's little more than skin and bones. Doesn't look like he's eaten for weeks. Whatever small amounts of money he can raise are spent on dwa.
From the look of him I'd say he was unlikely to make it through the winter. I take out a few coins and hand them over, more from memory of service he's given me in the past than any expectation that he might know anything useful.
'So what have you got?'
'You're investigating Galwinius, right?'
'Right.'
'The same day that Galwinius was murdered, the Guards found another body in Thamlin. Oraxin. He was a dwa dealer. Small time.'
'So?'
'Oraxin did some work for Galwinius.'
'What sort of work?'
'Informing.'
According to Kerk, Oraxin enhanced his income by taking any useful information he came across to Prefect Galwinius. As a dealer in dwa, Oraxin might occasionally have learned something that would interest the Prefect.
'How did he die?'
'Stab wounds. They haven't arrested anyone.'
I give Kerk another coin and walk off. Might be useful. An informant working for Galwinius, murdered on the same day. It could be connected. More likely Oraxin was murdered over dwa, a common fate for a small-time dealer.
At the Guards station the Captain is as pleased to see me as ever, which is to say, not at all. We go back a long way, the Captain and I. We fought together. And we worked together for a while, when I was employed by Palace Security and the Captain had a better job up town.
Since I left the Palace and set up on my own, the Captain hasn't been so friendly. The Guards don't have a lot of time for private Investigators. And since the Captain was manoeuvred out of his comfy job and sent to pound the streets in Twelve Seas, he's not exactly been friendly with anyone. I sympathise with Rallee, more or less. He's an honest man in a city where it doesn't pay to be honest. He's a large man, long fair hair tied back, still handsome in his black uniform, better preserved than me. 'How's life in the Guards?'
'Better than rowing a slave galley,' growls the Captain. 'What do you want?'
'I had a hunch you might want to see me.' Captain Rallee looks confused. Lisutaris's spell of bafflement has wiped a small part of his memory. For a day or two, he'll have a feeling that something happened, something he can't quite remember. After that he'll forget all about it. Lisutaris is a powerful woman, no doubt about it.
'I did want to see you, now you mention it. About a pile of bodies in Saint Rominius's Lane. Not far from the Avenging Axe. You know anything about it?'
'Nothing at all. Probably some dwa-related violence.'
It might have been wiser to tell the Captain about the attack, but it just comes naturally to deny everything to the Guards. Unusually, the Captain lets it pass without probing further.
'Dwa-related violence? Maybe. Wasn't anyone we recognised from the trade, though. Not that I care much right now. If you've got some gang on your tail you can sort it out yourself. I'm busy with more important things.'
'Like what?'
'Like espionage. We got word there's some spying going on in the city. All guards to be on the lookout for strangers, unexplained events, that sort of thing. I just wanted to let you know. You're still a Tribune for a few more weeks - God help the city - so I had to notify you. But if you come across anything strange, make sure you report it to me.'
I raise an eyebrow.
'Strange things happen to me all the time, Captain. But I generally don't go running to the Civil Guards.'
'Forget the attitude,' snaps the Captain. 'This is war, not one of your petty cases. If you get wind of anything strange going on, you tell me about it. Or Prefect Drinius, if you prefer. Though I doubt he'll be that keen on meeting you, seeing as you're trying to protect the man who murdered his fellow Prefect.'
'Which brings me nicely to the reason for my visit, Captain. I can't get an angle on the case.'
'And?'
And I was wondering what you might have heard.'
The Captain stares at me for a long time.