Chapter Eight
Tanrose's mother is quite a frail, grey-haired woman. She's made it to eighty, which is old in these parts, but I wouldn't say she was going to be with us for too many more years. She has one servant, paid for by Tanrose, who leads me into their only large room where Tanrose's mother is sitting in a large chair with a brown blanket over her legs. Though the family isn't wealthy, the tenement they live in isn't as bad as many of the others in the poorer areas. It's small but comfortable, and well decorated, with some small tapestries on the walls, clean, uncracked glass in the windows, and polished floorboards covered by thick rugs. I catch a glimpse of the family shrine off the hallway and it's bright and clean, and smells of incense.
After the servant has brought me a glass of wine I wait for Tanrose's mother to get down to business. It takes a little while, and as she tells me the story there's an edge of bitterness in her voice. She hasn't forgiven the authorities for putting her father in prison.
"The privateers had an agreement with the King that they could keep whatever booty they took before they joined up with the navy. My father, Captain Maxius, attacked a Simnian treasure ship the day before he was due to meet with the squadron he'd been assigned to. Everything he took that day was his by right."
As she tells it, the authorities didn't see it that way. Captain Maxius took part in the Battle of Dead Dragon Island honourably enough, but when he arrived back in port he found himself summoned to the Palace, where he was accused of withholding treasure from the King.
"Other captains were jealous because he was so successful. The trial wasn't fair. He was put in prison when he refused to hand over the money."
Tanrose's mother coughs, and looks frail and upset. Some tears form in her eyes.
"He died soon after. He wasn't well after the voyage and he couldn't recover in prison. They killed him. Afterwards they were always questioning my mother but she never told them anything."
She sighs, and looks off into the distance for a while.
"That was all a long time ago. Now the Orcs are going to take over the city. Good, I say."
"Good?"
"Why should I care? The city ruined my family. My father was wealthy. Look at us now."
She pauses again. She seems to be tiring. She revives long enough to look up at me sharply.
"But the Orcs can't get my father's money. Find it for me. There's fourteen thousand gurans. If you find it you can have one thousand."
"Where exactly did he bury it?"
"Near the harbour. Under the whale."
"What?"
"Under the whale."
I scratch my chin.
"I don't know of any whale at the harbour."
"That's what he told my mother. Under the whale. And that's what she told me."
"I really don't think there's a whale in Turai harbour."
"Not in the harbour. Beside it."
"Even so—"
I break off. Tanrose's mother's eyelids are starting to droop. Any second now she's going to nod off.
The servant comes in and looks questioningly at me.
"I'm leaving," I say, and bid farewell. I leave the tenement very thoughtfully. She didn't seem crazy and her memory seemed to be intact. Her story wasn't that unlikely, given the history of Turai's naval past, and the greed of the Palace. Any captain arriving back with a fortune might well find someone there trying to relieve him of it. Besides, I've been offered a reward of 1,000 gurans for finding the loot, which makes me even more inclined to believe the story.
The only problem is I'd swear there isn't a whale beside the harbour. I'm still musing on it as I arrive back at the Avenging Axe. I'm not pleased to find Makri in my office and my mood isn't improved by the way she's kneeling over Hanama, their faces almost touching.
"What the hell are you doing?" I demand. "No, don't answer that. Just do it somewhere else."
I grab a bottle of klee and take a slug. All these sick women in my private quarters, it's starting to unnerve me. Makri springs lithely to her feet. Everything she does is lithe, agile and nimble. I never noticed before how annoying it can be.
"Hanama was trying to tell me something," says Makri.
I sit down at my desk. There's a brief silence.
"Stop pretending you're not interested."
"Nothing an Assassin says is of any interest to me."
"Isn't it time you lightened up on this hating Assassins all the time, Thraxas? It's getting tedious."
"Tedious? This woman kills for money. It's a vile trade that should have been outlawed long ago."
"You were a soldier. You killed for money."
"That's different."
"How?"
"It just is. And don't try and confuse the issue with some smart argument you learned from Samanatius the so-called philosopher."
Makri looks frustrated.
"Do you want to hear what Hanama had to say or not?"
"No."
"Fine," says Makri.
She sits down on the couch. I try to ignore her. After a few minutes I glance up. She's studying her nails. I tap my fingers on the desk, and take out today's edition of the Chronicle. It's full of news about the winter malady. There's been a major outbreak in the north of the city and it's expected to spread. Makri's still studying her nails.
"What the hell did Hanama have to say!" I roar.
Makri looks up.
"Pardon?"
"What was it?"
"I can't remember."
I've really had enough of this. I rise to my feet.
"Makri, I've got an office full of sick Assassins and Sorcerers and it's starting to get on my nerves. I'm not in the mood for you to hang around acting like an imbecile. What did Hanama say?"
Makri rises to her feet too.
"She said if that fat Investigator comes back tell him he's a drunken oaf."
I put my hand to my sword and draw it a few inches from its scabbard.
"Tell me what she said."
Makri's eyes blaze. She wrenches a long knife out of her boot and steps towards me.
"What if I don't?"
Makri brandishes her knife. I draw my sword. There's a knock on the inside door and Tanrose comes into the office. She looks aghast at my drawn sword and Makri's knife.
"What's going on?"
I sheathe my sword, with dignity.
"A private disagreement."
"You should both be ashamed of yourselves," says Tanrose. "What sort of way is this to behave?"
Makri puts her knife back in her boot and looks sulky.
"He started it," she mutters.
Tanrose frowns.
"I was going to ask you to look after the bar while I went to the fishmonger's. But I think I'll ask Dandelion instead. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."
Tanrose departs. I sit back down at my desk. I light a thazis stick and throw one to Makri. She catches it and places it between her lips. There's a few moments' silence.
"That was strange," says Makri.
"What?"
"The argument. Even by our standards it didn't seem like time for drawing weapons."
I shrug.
"Everyone in Turai is crazy right now, with the Orcs outside the walls. Always happens. A city under siege is never a good place to be. Now that the malady's arrived, I expect a lot more citizens to start exhibiting their craziness."
I draw on the thazis; the mild narcotic calms me down.
"So what did Hanama have to say?"
"She says there's going to be an attempt on Lisutaris's life."
"Who from?"
"She passed out again before she could say any more."
I turn to look at the small Assassin, who's murmuring to herself, lost in the troubled sleep that comes with the malady.
"That's great. Couldn't she have stayed awake another ten seconds?"
"At least we got the warning," says Makri.
"It's not a lot of use. The way things are just now, half the city could be planning a bit of treachery to save their skins from the Orcs."