"Not much. She's got it bad."
Palax and Kaby are a little better, but still unable to leave Makri's room, which doesn't please her at all. Makri is also worried about falling ill herself. Chiaraxi is still calling in regularly to minister to her patients, which is something. According to her, the malady is spreading and it looks like the city might be in for a full-scale epidemic. Bad news, with the Orcs outside the walls. We're short of fighting men as it is.
"I heard people in the market talking about the Orcs breaching the sea wall," says Makri.
"What? Who said that?"
"Just some people at the stalls. They'd heard the Orcs have got a new weapon and they're going to smash their way into the harbour."
I suppose the rumour was bound to leak out. With the Civil Guards, the Sorcerers Guild, and the prefects' office all looking for the Ocean Storm, word was bound to spread.
Makri notices I'm looking thoughtful.
"Do you think you can find it?"
"I don't know. Whoever else is looking for it keeps getting there ahead of me. And he isn't shy of killing either."
Makri wonders why whoever else is looking for the Ocean Storm killed the captain and Borinbax. I admit I don't know.
"Maybe just to protect his identity. It's odd that no one seems to know who exactly is involved. The Sorcerers and the Guards are all looking; you'd think they might have come up with something."
I wonder about the odd wound in Borinbax's chest. It didn't look like it came from a sword or a dagger.
"It looked like your chest."
"What?" says Makri.
"Your chest after we pulled that crossbow bolt out of you."
Makri looks interested.
"A crossbow bolt?"
A killer called Sarin the Merciless once fired a crossbow bolt into Makri's chest, nearly killing her. She's been keen for revenge ever since.
"I wonder if Sarin's involved. She's smart and she likes her crossbow. She might have removed the bolt afterwards to avoid giving herself away. And she wouldn't mind killing anyone who got in her way."
"If she shows up again I'll kill her," says Makri, brightening up at the prospect.
I finish my beer, and consider another. I need some sustenance, particularly as I've been obliged to sleep on the floor. I can still feel my back aching. It strikes me that as Tanrose has apparently moved in with Gurd, her room downstairs is now free.
"Of course," I say, slapping my palm on the bar. "I should have thought of it before. I can move into Tanrose's room till the sick people get the hell out of mine."
"You can't," says Dandelion.
"Why not? Tanrose won't mind."
"It's not empty."
"I thought Tanrose was—"
I stop, not wishing to complete the sentence in front of Dandelion.
"Sleeping with Gurd," says Makri, who has no delicacy about her at all.
"She is. But Chiaraxi is in Tanrose's room."
"What do you mean?"
"She got sick."
I gape at Dandelion, as does Makri.
"Dandelion, don't babble. She can't get sick, she's the healer."
"Well she did," replies Dandelion, placidly. "This afternoon. Just fell over when she was making potions. So we had to put her in Tanrose's room. I'm going to make up potions for everyone later, she gave me the recipe. We'll all have to work extra hard to look after people now the healer is sick."
I'm practically speechless and Makri isn't looking too pleased either.
"Well, this seems bad," she says. "Rather shakes my confidence in Chiaraxi."
"Mine too. The least you could expect from a healer is not to get ill."
"Damn them all! Can't they get sick somewhere else?" says Makri.
"You were the one who encouraged them all to hang around."
"I did not," retorts Makri. "Apart from Lisutaris. And maybe Hanama. I don't like this at all, Thraxas. Everyone's getting sick. Is it some sort of spell?"
Makri seems quite disconcerted by the whole thing. It's unusual for her to show signs of nervousness in any circumstances. I guess she really doesn't like the idea of becoming ill.
"Relax. If you catch it you'll get better."
"I'm not taking potions to anyone," she says.
"We all have to pull together," says Dandelion.
"Damn them all," says Makri again.
All thoughts of the winter malady are banished next moment when Captain Rallee, accompanied by four excited-looking Civil Guards, rushes into the tavern. He bangs his fist on the table for silence then shouts out to everyone in the room.
"There's a report of Orcs in Twelve Seas! Down by the church. Everyone with a sword follow me!"
There's a mass scramble for weapons. Viriggax and his mercenaries leap to their feet, hastily grab their swords and make for the door. Gurd appears from behind the bar, axe in hand, and runs after them. Meanwhile I'm moving as fast as I can in the same direction. If the Orcs have somehow arrived in Twelve Seas undetected the city might be about to fall a lot sooner than anyone expected. Makri disappears up the stairs to fetch her weapons and is so quick that's she's coming down the steps from my office to the street outside by the time I get there. We hurry along after the mercenaries and the Captain, towards the church. Unfortunately, by this time the wind has dropped and the mist that came in earlier has now enveloped Twelve Seas in thick white gloom. The Captain and his men have already disappeared from view, and those who are trying to keep up with him find themselves crashing into passers-by attempting to make their way home through the gloom. The city's lamplighters have already lit the torches that stand on most street corners, but their light barely cuts through the mist, making it almost impossible to see where I'm going.
Thick winter fogs are not that uncommon in Turai but I'm not certain whether this is completely natural. If the Orcs are indeed attacking, then sending in a sorcerous blanket of freezing mist as cover wouldn't be a bad idea. Controlling the weather by means of magic is extremely difficult, but everything we've learned about the Orcish Sorcerers in the past few years seems to indicate that they're growing stronger.
By the time I'm close to the church I've lost sight of everyone, including Makri. Somewhere ahead of me I can hear Viriggax bellowing at his mercenary company, ordering them to form up and advance behind him. I can't hear the clash of weapons but there's a lot of shouting coming from all directions, and several people crash into me from behind, rushing to the scene as word spreads that the Orcs are in the city. Suddenly the great bell at the harbour starts booming out a warning.
"Orcish ships!" screams someone, though from where we are, we can't see the sea. But the cry is taken up and soon the whole area around the church is a mass of people rushing blindly about in the mist, brandishing weapons and screaming that the Orcs are coming. I can't see more than a sword's length in front of me, and the way things are going I'm expecting to be run through by an overexcited mercenary before I come to grips with the enemy. I actually bump into Captain Rallee between the church and the harbour. He's lost all his men and he's sweating with the exertion of running around Twelve Seas.
"Have you seen anything?" he barks at me. I shake my head and he hurries off, blowing a whistle to rally his men, which isn't going to work in this confusion. Bells, whistles, shouts and screams rend the air from every direction. Having failed to locate any Orcs around the church, I'm making my way down towards the harbour, ready to repel invaders. It's slow progress. I've giving up running and pick my way carefully along. I know every inch of these streets but the torches haven't carried away any of the mist and visibility is almost zero. Inevitably, I find myself trampling over beggars and comatose dwa addicts, lying in front of alleyways, impervious to the excitement. I'm continually jostled by soldiers, Civil Guards, mercenaries, not to mention Twelve Seas civilians carrying whatever weapons they can find. I march round a corner with a sword in my hand and nearly decapitate a funeral party, two men in black cloaks and hoods, and a veiled woman, all treading slowly homewards, heads solemnly bowed. I cast a swift suspicious glance at their concealed faces—you wouldn't expect Orcs to invade the city disguised as a funeral party, but who knows what they might be up to these days—but they're Human, not Orcs. I can always sense the presence of Orcs. A useful talent that's stayed with me from my days as a Sorcerer's apprentice. As it happens, I do see one of their faces, when I tread on someone's toes and he lifts his hood to give me an angry scowl.