"Can't you use your own sorcery to tell if there's a new sorcerous item in the city?" asks Makri, butting in with a question I was just about to ask myself.
"I haven't come up with anything," replies Lisutaris. "But that's not really conclusive. An unknown sorcerous artefact, inactivated, wouldn't necessarily give out any signals that could be traced. There are a great many objects and people in this city who give off sorcerous vibrations. Picking up some unknown source isn't easy."
"What do the ship's crew say about the captain disappearing?"
"Nothing. They don't know what happened. They were so short-handed that each of the five sailors was at his post, bringing the ship in. And suddenly the captain wasn't there."
"He probably fell overboard drunk," I say. "If he's anything like the other captains around here."
"It might all be nothing," agrees Lisutaris. "But suppose it isn't. Suppose the Ocean Storm is real and someone has stolen it. What would you think?"
"Then I'd think it was serious. It might have fallen into the hands of someone who'd be happy to see the Orcs batter down the harbour walls with a tidal wave and sail their fleet in. Has Samilius found out anything?"
"No."
"No surprise. Samilius is an idiot."
"I know. I've taken charge of the sorcerous part of the investigation and assigned several good Sorcerers to the hunt," says Lisutaris. "I trust you don't think I'm an idiot?"
"I think you're a woman who sent me an excellent gift. What do you want me to do?"
"Help us search," says Lisutaris. "When it comes to asking awkward questions and finding lost goods in strange places, you have some talents."
"I have. Are you sure there's no money involved?"
The Sorcerer looks frustrated.
"Regard it as an extension of the battlefield, Thraxas. This is war."
"Of course. It's my patriotic duty. But there is a matter of supreme importance occupying my attention just now, which really calls for a substantial sum of money. Do you think you could see your way to lending me five hundred gurans?"
Lisutaris is suddenly overtaken by a fit of coughing. I use the opportunity to press my case.
"I'm not asking you to take a risk. It's money loaned at a guaranteed return."
Lisutaris attempts to rise, falters, then falls to the floor. I gaze down at her, perplexed. I didn't think she'd be quite so shocked by a simple request for money.
"Well, you know, maybe three hundred would be enough to get me started—"
"Thraxas, you idiot, can't you see she's sick?" yells Makri.
"Sick?"
Lisutaris's face is turning red and her breath is coming in heavy gasps. Beads of sweat appear on her forehead.
"She's got the winter malady," says Makri.
"She can't have. She's head of the Sorcerers Guild."
I gaze down at her on the floor, cursing my luck. One of the richest women in Turai, right here in the Avenging Axe, and before she can listen to my business proposition she comes down with the malady. I've always felt that the gods had it in for me.
"Get Chiaraxi," says Makri. "I'll put Lisutaris in your bed."
"I don't think that's really the best place for—"
"Get the healer!" yells Makri.
While I'm not at all pleased to have a sufferer from the winter malady dumped on my own bed, there doesn't seem to be a better alternative. It's a serious matter having the head of the Sorcerers Guild fall sick at a time like this.
"If she comes round, ask her about lending me some money."
I depart. Before making my way along Quintessence Street to the home of Chiaraxi, I stop downstairs to appraise Gurd of current events. The brawny old Barbarian looks alarmed.
"Lisutaris? Sick? Here? Can't she go somewhere else?"
"Not in her condition."
Gurd curses under his breath. It's going to be difficult to keep this secret. A quarantine order is looking more and more likely. It's unfortunate timing. The tavern is full of mercenaries and soldiers. Gurd's business has never been so good. Provided the city doesn't get destroyed by the Orcs, he's in line for a healthy profit over the next few months. I leave him to his worries and hurry along to fetch Chiaraxi. Chiaraxi is alarmed as I barge into her office, possibly due to the fact that the last time I arrived here in a hurry was because Makri was about to die from a crossbow bolt, fired into her chest by Sarin the Merciless, one of the worst villains ever to blight Turai.
"Makri? Is she—"
"It's Lisutaris. She's come down with a bad case of the malady."
Chiaraxi frowns, and starts loading herbs into a bag.
"How bad?"
"Very bad, I'd say. Started coughing and then collapsed. I'd have thought such a powerful Sorcerer would have some protection against illness."
Chiaraxi shakes her head.
"Sorcery's no use against the winter malady. You can die just the same."
We hurry back towards the Avenging Axe. Chiaraxi asks me if it's the first case there's been. I admit it isn't.
"Palax and Kaby are sick with it."
"Has Gurd reported it to the Prefect?"
I remain silent. Chiaraxi purses her lips, indicating disapproval. I take the healer up the outside staircase that leads directly into my office, not wanting the customers in the tavern downstairs to suspect what's happening. Unfortunately my office isn't empty. I left without placing a locking spell on the door, and Captain Rallee and his new lady friend Moolifi are sitting together on the couch. Makri is standing uncomfortably by the door into the only other room, where Lisutaris is lying sick.
The Captain is around my age, but better preserved. His blond hair, long and tied at the back, is only just beginning to streak with grey, and his lifetime of pounding the streets has kept him in shape. We used to be friends. We fought together, a long time ago, and we worked together when I was an Investigator at the Palace and he had a far cushier job at Palace Security. Since I got sacked and the Captain got forced out by the endless politicking and favouritism that goes on there, we haven't get on so well. The Captain doesn't like the fact that's he's back on the beat, working a tough patch like Twelve Seas. From his point of view, private Investigators only get in the way.
I've never seen Moolifi before, and know her only by reputation. They say she's got a good voice. She has a lot of fair hair and a good figure, which probably helps things along. She looks quite a lot younger than the Captain. I get the impression he's not displeased to be here with her at his side. Puts him in a good light. A lot of people must have been vying for the singer's attention and the Captain doesn't mind it at all that he's come out the winner.
"Captain? What brings you here?"
The Captain looks at Chiaraxi.
"Who's sick?"
"Me," I reply.
"What's the matter?"
"That's between me and Chiaraxi," I reply.
The Captain looks suspicious. I intimate that I'm in a hurry to get my medical problem attended to so could he please make it quick. It turns out he wants Moolifi to stay at the Avenging Axe for a few days.
"She's had some trouble up at the Golden Unicorn."
"What sort of trouble?"
"Trouble with her manager. She had to leave in a hurry. I'd like you to keep an eye on her for a few days till she gets something sorted out."
Normally I could see reasons for objecting to this. If Moolifi is in trouble in her theatre in Kushni it probably means the Society of Friends is involved, because that criminal organisation runs the Golden Unicorn. I'd rather not offend the Society of Friends. Furthermore, I don't owe the Captain any favours. However, with Lisutaris sick in the next room I'm keen to get the Captain out of here as quickly as possible. I don't want to let the Civil Guards know that Gurd's been hiding a case of the winter malady from the authorities. So I tell him it's fine with me.
"If Gurd has a spare room for her I'll check she's safe. Now if you'd let me get on with my examination?"