'Tirini is assisting me,' says Lisutaris, drily. 'She's still full of spells. Having not actually made it to the battlefield.'
'I told you, I was having my hair done,' says Tirini, defensively.
They walk off. The Ores don't seem to be storming the city at this moment but I can smell burning coming from somewhere. Makri lingers for a moment.
'Don't tell anyone Prince Amrag is my brother.'
'I won't.'
She hurries off after Lisutaris.
A centurion strides up to me and demands to know what I'm doing, standing uselessly in the middle of the pleasure gardens. I tell him my phalanx was destroyed outside the walls.
'So?' he barks. Are you just planning to stand there? Get down to the South Gate and report for duty on the walls.'
I wrap my cloak around me and set off. From the lack of dragons flying overhead and the absence of noises of battle it seems like the Ores are not immediately pressing their attack on the city. The aroma of burning gets stronger as I head south. Though the dragons didn't try to raze the city, it seems like they did target several buildings. The grain stores at the harbour are burning furiously. Fire wagons race past me as I trudge towards the gate. I find an officer and report for duty. He sends me up on the walls, where I look out on to the cold shore. It's dark, snow is falling, but there's no sign of an attack. I'm hungry.
'Still here?' comes a familiar voice.
It's Gurd. I'm so relieved I could throw my arms around him. But I'm not really a throwing-my-arms sort of person, so I nod.
'Still here. Last survivor of phalanx number seven.'
Gurd shakes his head wearily.
'Mine crumbled at the first attack. God knows how I survived.'
I know how Gurd survived. By hewing off the head of any Ore who came near him. We wait for the night to pass. On the cold, exposed walls, the mood is grim. Turai's army has been destroyed. Prince Dees-Akan is dead, along with many of our commanders and countless troops. There's an Orcish army outside the gates and no prospect of relief. You don't have to be sharp as an Elf's ear to know we're in serious trouble.
When I reflect that today I've solved my case, and a perplexing one at that, I almost manage to smile. Who cares now who killed Prefect Galwinius? No one at all. We'll all be dead soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three days later I'm still on guard duty on the walls. The Ores have not yet pressed home their attack but neither have they withdrawn. The main bulk of their army has taken shelter in the Stadium Superbius and the buildings around it. Others have been deployed to watch the city gates, making sure that no one enters or leaves. The city is now under siege.
It took two days to put the fires out at the grain warehouses. As a result of this well-directed assault by the dragons, our food stores are already badly depleted. Our army has been all but destroyed. The mercenaries didn't fare much better. All over the city men are still dying. Turai is well supplied with healers, herbalists and doctors, some of them aided by sorcery, but for many of the terrible wounds inflicted by Orcish weapons, there's no cure.
If it was Prince Amrag's intention to seize Turai in winter and use it for a bridgehead for his assault on the west next summer, he didn't quite succeed. We held them off and shut the gates. But the Prince hasn't gone away and no one is expecting him to. Whether he's waiting for reinforcements or siege engines, or just working on another plan for taking the city, nobody knows, but few people can sleep easily with the Ores outside the walls. No Human nation will march to our aid till the spring. The Elves can't set sail in this weather. Even if Turai still stands when winter draws to a close, the city might not be relieved. The armies of the west might decide to defend the line elsewhere.
My guard duty ends at midnight. I make the long descent from the walls and am surprised to find a carriage waiting for me. It's lisutaris. As a member of the War Council, to which she has now been reinstated, Lisutaris is allowed to use her carriage at night. Inside it's warm, with a comforting aroma of thazis.
'So why the lift home?'
'The Orcish spell you found on Bevarius. It was for transporting dragons. Do you know why he had it?'
I admit I don't.
'It was a target. The dragons couldn't have flown so far in such cold weather. Teleporting them was a brilliant piece of sorcery but it wouldn't have worked if they hadn't had agents already in Turai. The Orcish Sorcerer set things up and the spell itself acted as a beacon. Bevarius actually brought the dragons to Turai.'
Lisutaris wants to know who Bevarius was working with.
'Just Rittius, I think,' I tell her.
Are you certain?'
'No. But I haven't found anything that points to any other accomplices.'
'Such foul treachery,' says Lisutaris.
'I'd guess our head of Palace Security was in the pay of the Ores for years. If the authorities dig around enough I reckon they'll come up with a lot of money stashed away somewhere.'
'I'm glad you killed him,' says Lisutaris.
'Makri killed him,' I correct her.
'I believe she was upset over the death of Toraggax.'
'Probably. It's lucky her hero Samanatius survived or she'd probably have slaughtered the whole government.'
'You do not approve?'
'No. Everyone deserves a trial, even Rittius.'
Lisutaris makes no reply. At least we don't have to worry about any Sorcerer at the Abode of Justice looking back in time and finding out how Rittius was killed. With so many dragons in the vicinity, there's no chance of a Sorcerer seeing any pictures of past events. Dragons are very disruptive to sorcerous investigations.
'Who killed Bevarius?' asks Lisutaris.
A member of the Assassins Guild, I presume, hired by Rittius. Only a skilled artist could have thrown a dart so lethally through that gap in the window. And when you hire them, they don't ask questions and they don't tell tales.'
'Why did Rittius want Bevarius dead?'
'To cover his tracks. Rittius knew that Bevarius couldn't stand up to a prolonged interrogation from a man like myself. You see, Galwinius had got wind of Rittius's treachery and brought a scroll containing evidence to the meeting to give to the Consul. Unfortunately for Galwinius, his assistant Bevarius was in league with Rittius and warned him. So Rittius poisoned the Prefect. Fortunately for him, suspicion fell on Senator Lodius. Later that day Rittius and Bevarius had Galwinius's informer murdered, and when I started asking questions they tried to have me killed too.'
'Have you reported all this to the Consul?'
'I can't get near him.'
'No one can get near the Consul,' says Lisutaris.
'So he was badly wounded in the battle?'
The Sorcerer shakes her head.
A slight injury only. Unfortunately he has now suffered a mental collapse and is incapable of action. As is Prince Frisen-Akan, who's been in a state of advanced intoxication since the Ores appeared.'
'How about the King?'
'Practically bedridden. Cicerius has taken over the reins of government. I have some regard for Cicerius, but he's not a war leader. It's fortunate that General Pomius survived.'
Lisutaris muses for a moment or two.
'Rittius's treachery has cost us dearly. I now understand who was spreading rumours to discredit me in the eyes of the War Council. Worse than this, the Orcish Sorcerer managed to block almost all of our seeing spells. No one apart from me saw the Ores gathering in Yal. And no one could have foreseen that they'd manage to bring dragons here in winter.'
I ask what the War Council know of the Ores' intentions.
'Nothing. Possibly Prince Amrag is waiting for more dragons. With his own Sorcerers in the Stadium Superbius it seems possible he can bring them here. Our Sorcerers are working to prevent it. He's brought a lot of northern Ores with him. They can stand the cold. They're dug in outside every gate.'
She pauses to light a thazis stick.