Makri shrugs. She can't seem to get used to the civilised habit of knocking on doors. I shouldn't be sur-prised. After two years in the city, she's still not great with cutlery.
'What did Hansius want?'
I pick up my empty plate and brandish it.
'You see this stew? Deficient in every way. Taste, texture, presentation. All lacking. And you know why? I'll tell you why. Because Tanrose didn't cook it. And why is that? Because you advised her to leave the tavern.'
Makri refuses to acknowledge the truth of this. She claims that her advice to Tanrose was simply to take a little time to herself to consider her relationship with Gurd. She wasn't expecting Tanrose to up and leave. Since then I've spent many a dissatisfied mealtime cursing the day that an axe-wielding Barbarian like Makri ever got the notion that she was qualified to give personal advice to anyone.
'Will you never stop complaining about that?' protests Makri. 'I miss Tanrose too. It's bad enough that you and Gurd are continually going round as miserable as a pair of Niojan whores, but now I've got no one to discuss—'
I hold up my hand.
'Please. If this is going anywhere near the area of intimate female bodily functions, I don't want to hear it. I still haven't got over the last time.'
'Fine,' says Makri, sitting down on my only comfortable chair. 'So what did Hansius want?'
There was a time, not too long ago, when I never discussed my affairs with anyone. As an Investigator it's necessary to be discreet. But in the two years or so since Makri arrived in the city I've found myself, almost without noticing, slipping into the habit of telling her about my business. I still balk at this occasionally but in general I don't mind. Makri is discreet, trustworthy and, more to the point, as lethal a fighter as ever set foot in Turai. Many times over the past two years I've been pleased to have her sword or axe at my side. Not that I'm going to admit it to her. Makri is always bragging about her exploits as champion gladiator and doesn't need any encouragement from me.
'Summoned me to a meeting. At the Consul's office, which is unusual.'
Are you in trouble?'
'Possibly. But I didn't really get that impression from Hansius.'
'Maybe they're going to offer you another official position,' suggests Makri.
'That's unlikely.'
'You were a Tribune.'
It's true, I was. Still am, technically. Last winter I was appointed Tribune of the People by Cicerius, as a convenient way of giving me the official status necessary to attend the Sorcerers Assemblage. And a Tribune of the People turned out to have a fair amount of power. On one occasion I prevented Praetor Capatius from evicting the tenants of one of his buildings in Twelve Seas. The Praetor is one of the richest men in Turai and he wasn't too pleased about it.
The appointment has now almost expired, and I can't say I'm sorry. The post wasn't exactly cushy. It was unpaid and any action I took always led to trouble. Politics is a dangerous game in this city, particularly for a man without a party to support him. I haven't used the Tribune's powers for any reason recently, and I don't intend to.
'I'm bored,' says Makri.
'It beats being unhappy over an Elf.'
'I'm also unhappy over an Elf. But I'm bored as well. My college is closed for a week. Some stupid holiday. What do they need a holiday for?'
'Probably to recover from teaching you. Don't you have books or scrolls to study?'
'I've read them all,' says Makri.
Makri seems to be well in advance of her studies. The woman's energy can be quite disturbing. Reading scrolls, going to the Imperial Library, attending lectures, and working shifts in the Avenging Axe to pay for it all. And if it's not that it's weapons practice. At some point every day the back yard resounds with the noise of Makri knocking hell out of targets with her collection of swords, axes, knives, throwing stars and whatever else she has in her weapons chest. For a woman who can be ridiculously enthusiastic about some tedious old Elvish playwright, she still shows great dedication to her fighting skills.
Of course, I was a champion fighter myself, back in my younger days. And I didn't need to go around practising all the time. I just had a natural talent for it.
'Don't you have any criminals I could attack?'
'Well, technically, Makri, they're meant to commit a crime first. And business is quiet just now.'
'Do you want to go back to the Fairy Glade?' asks Makri, unexpectedly.
'That's a long ride.'
Makri and I did visit the Fairy Glade on one occasion, but we haven't had reason to go back since. Makri sighs. She liked it there, and the magical creatures of the glade certainly seemed to like her, even though no creature with Orcish blood is supposed to be able to enter. The fairies were all over her and she practically had to fight off the centaurs, who are lascivious creatures by nature.
Makri looks glum.
'I can't really take time off from the tavern just now. I need money to pay my fees at the library. You know, when I killed all those Ores and escaped to Turai to get an education, I never thought it would be so expensive.'
It's true. Turai is famed for its scholarship but almost all of the students are the sons of the upper classes, whose fathers can afford the fees at the Imperial University. The Guild College Makri attends is less expensive, and the Federation of Guilds provides some help for the students, but even so, all of the scholars there are sons of relatively wealthy Guild members - merchants, goldsmiths, glassmakers and the like. I don't think there's anyone else there actually paying their own fees like Makri.
'Maybe I'll just take a walk outside the city walls tomorrow. You want to come?'
The idea of taking a walk outside the city walls for no apparent reason is so baffling I'm stuck for an immediate reply. Makri says she just feels like seeing something different.
'Could we at least look at the Fairy Glade?'
'You mean by sorcery?' I shake my head. A good Sorcerer like Lisutaris could open a seeing-window on the Fairy Glade without much effort, but my own sor-cerous powers are so limited these days it would take too much expenditure of energy.
'Then I guess I'll have to make do with thazis,' sighs Makri, lighting one of my thazis sticks. I pour a little beer for her, then pass her a glass of klee.
'The intoxicants of the poor.'
I start setting up the pieces on my Niarit board. Niarit is a cunning game of skill and strategy at which Makri, despite her much-vaunted Tm-top-of-the-class' intellect, has so far never defeated me. Only to be expected, really. I'm the undisputed Niarit champion of Twelve Seas, and have in my time defeated lords, ladies, philosophers, Sorcerers and whoever else was foolish enough to challenge me. I take a hefty slug of klee and prepare for an infantry attack supported by elephants that will sweep Makri's forces from the board.
'This time you're dead,' mutters Makri, and moves her Hero quickly into play. And pass me the klee.'
Makri shudders as the fiery spirit burns her throat.
Top-quality klee, made by monks in the mountains. I let her Hero advance up the board, pretending to fall back with my troops, not even pushing up my Harper to increase the morale of my front line. Makri sends her heavy cavalry up my right flank, preparing, I imagine, for a pincer movement. Poor Makri. She might be number one chariot with a sword in her hand, and the smartest student in the Guild College, but she has a lot to learn about the art of war. Less than half an hour later Makri is looking glumly at the remnants of her army, now falling back in full retreat before the wave of elephants, infantry and light cavalry currently sweeping up the board as directed by Thraxas, unstoppable warlord.
True to her character, Makri refuses to surrender and plays the game to its bitter end. My troops place their siege tower next to her castle, swarm up the ladders, kill everyone inside and hoist a flag in triumph. Well, metaphorically anyway. There isn't actually a flag.
Makri stubs her thazis stick out in disgust.