Thraxas - The Complete Series (145 page)

I speak some words of caution to Lisutaris.

“Sarin is a very dangerous woman. If she can’t find the pendant herself she might just decide to search for it at your villa. Perhaps I really should come to the ball.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” says Lisutaris. “I have adequate security.”

She departs. I march straight downstairs for a beer.

“Good meeting?” asks Makri, at the bar.

“Stop talking and give me a beer.”

“So what are you as miserable as a Niojan whore about?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“That’s right, nothing. Also, Sarin the Merciless just paid a visit.”

Makri is agitated. Sarin once put a crossbow bolt in her chest and Makri would like the opportunity to return the favour.

“I think Sarin must be the only person ever to wound me that I haven’t killed in return.”

I tell Makri she’ll probably get her chance.

“Sarin has a way of appearing when she’s not wanted.”

“Does this mean you can’t investigate at the Guild College?”

“It might have to wait a while.”

“It can’t wait,” insists Makri. “If you don’t find the thief soon I’m going to have to do the examination with everyone thinking I’m a criminal.”

“Well you’ll just have to make the best of it.”

“Make the best of it?” says Makri, flushing. “Make the best of it? Is that your advice? I didn’t ask you to get involved in the first place. I was quite happy to go up there and kill Professor Toarius. You persuaded me not to and now you’re saying I just have to make the best of it?”

Seeing Makri getting angry, the drinkers around us draw back nervously.

“That’s right, you’ll just have to make the best of it. Just because Lisutaris invited you to her smart party doesn’t mean the whole city has to start jumping around for your convenience.”

“Aha!” yells Makri. “So that’s why you’ve been acting like a troll with toothache. You’re jealous because you can’t go to the ball.”

“I am not jealous.”

“Just like the Elvish princess in the story,” says Makri.

“What story?”

“ ‘The Elvish Princess Who Couldn’t Go to the Ball.’ ”

“There’s no such story.”

“Yes there is. I translated it last year.”

I glare at Makri with loathing.

“Fascinating, Makri. I’m gratified to learn that while I’m struggling round the streets fighting criminals you’re safe in a classroom translating Elvish fairy stories.”

Makri takes her sword from behind the bar.

“I’m off to kill Professor Toarius,” she mutters.

I move swiftly to cut off her exit.

“Fine. I’ll go investigate at the College.”

I grab a bag of food from Tanrose and eat on the hoof. Possibly Makri was right. I should be paying more attention to her problem. It’s just that with bodies everywhere, Lisutaris’s case was hard to ignore. Till the Sorcerer sends me another lead, however, I’ve got a little time to investigate the theft. I can’t help resenting all the work I’m having to do over a lousy five gurans.

I still have some students left to visit, people who were close to the scene of the crime on the day in question. I set about tracking them down. It takes a lot of trudging round the streets and a lot of knocking at doors where no one is pleased to see me. I work my way northwards through the city, and as the houses become smarter the replies get briefer. Several families flatly refuse to let me in and succumb eventually only to the threat of a court order from the Tribune’s Office. There isn’t actually a Tribune’s Office, but they’re not to know that.

“When I heard that the Deputy Consul had reinstated the post of Tribune I did not realise it would lead to the harassment of honest people going about their work,” says one angry master glassmaker, upset at me interrupting the family dinner to question his son.

“Just a few questions and I’ll be on my way.”

This is the eighth house I’ve visited, so far with no results. For students who are supposed to be learning, the young men at the Guild College seem peculiarly unobservant. I can understand that, I suppose. I studied as a Sorcerer’s apprentice for almost a year, and at the end of it all I could remember was the way to the nearest tavern.

I’m shown into an elegant front room which is sufficiently well furnished to make me think that a master glassmaker can’t be that bad a thing to be. I wait a long time, and no one offers me a drink; bad manners towards a guest. Even the Consul would offer me wine, and he’s never pleased to see me. Eventually the glassmaker’s son, Ossinax, appears. He’s around nineteen, small for his age, with long hair tied back in a ponytail like most of the lower-class sons of the city. My own hair has never been cut and has trailed down my back since I was young. These days I notice some grey streaks.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” he says, taking me by surprise.

“You are?”

He lowers his voice as if fearful that his father might be listening outside.

“I really don’t think Makri stole that money.”

“Why not?”

“Because once I asked her to look after a quarter-guran for me and she gave it right back when I asked.”

“Why did you need her to look after a quarter-guran?”

“I didn’t. It was a bet with some other students. To see how long she’d keep it without stealing it. But then she didn’t steal it at all. We were surprised.”

“I see.”

“I like her,” says Ossinax.

He looks a little downcast.

“Though she did punch me after she learned about the bet. But I never told anyone. I didn’t want to get her into trouble.”

From the tone of Ossinax’s voice, I get the impression that he might be harbouring more than some friendly feelings towards Makri. Wouldn’t be too strange, really, if only because in a city where women are almost always well wrapped up, Makri never seems to wear enough clothes. She’s been sent home from the College because of it on more than one occasion.

“So who else might have taken the money?”

“I don’t know. There were a few people around.”

Everyone he can remember is on my list, and I’ve checked them all out.

“Are you sure there was no other student around?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“No members of staff?”

“Why would a member of staff steal five gurans?”

“You never know who might need money urgently.”

Ossinax doesn’t remember seeing any members of staff anywhere near the room in question.

“Professor Toarius was there earlier, but he often walks round the building.”

“How much earlier?”

“Around an hour. It was before my philosophy class. He walked along the corridor with Barius.”

“Barius?”

“Professor Toarius’s son.”

“What was he doing there?”

“I don’t know. He’s a student at the Imperial University. I only saw him once before, when he came down to visit his father. But I’m sure it was him.”

No one has mentioned anything about the Professor’s son before. That’s probably not suspicious. After all, this was more than an hour before the theft. But I’m curious anyway. The Professor didn’t say that his son had been there earlier in the day. There again, the Professor didn’t mention much before he stormed out of the room. I ask Ossinax if he can tell me anything more about Barius but he can’t. He’s surprised I’m interested.

“The family is rich. Barius wouldn’t have any need to steal five gurans.”

“I suppose not.”

I let him have my address and tell him to get in touch if he thinks of anything else that might interest me.

“The Avenging Axe? Is that where Makri works?”

“It is.”

“Is it a dangerous place?”

“Any place Makri works is a dangerous place.”

“Did she really slaughter an Orc lord and all his family when she escaped from the gladiator pits?”

“She did.”

“Did she really fight a dragon in the arena?”

I see that Makri has not been above doing a little bragging at the College.

“Yes, she did,” I tell him. “And she helped me fight another one, much bigger,” I add, not wishing young Ossinax to get the impression that Makri’s the only one capable of epic feats in battle. We didn’t kill the dragon but we defeated the Orcish forces that accompanied it. Makri dealt the fatal blow by hewing her way through their ranks to kill their commander.

I leave Ossinax looking thoughtful. A servant shows me out under the watchful eye of his father. Outside I can hear the sound of hammering coming from the workshop at the rear. I gaze at the front of the house. “Nice windows. You make them all yourself?” The glassmaker shuts the door. It’s hot as Orcish hell. I take a drink from a fountain and look around for someone to sell me a watermelon. I have an urge to visit Barius, son of Professor Toarius. After eating two large watermelons, I still have the urge, so I wave down a landus and tell the driver to take me to Thamlin.

I
t’s surprisingly difficult to find Barius. He’s not at the Imperial University and no one there has seen him for several days. I traipse uncomfortably around the huge marble halls, asking questions of students and members of staff, but the young man’s friends haven’t seen him and the tutors and professors aren’t keen to give information to an outsider, Tribune or not. When I find myself being lectured at length on the historical duties of the Tribunate by a Professor of Theology, I realise it’s time to leave the University. So much learning is making me feel ignorant. The sight of ranks of well-dressed and attentive students sitting in vast lecture halls makes me wonder what they’ll make of Makri if she ever manages to force her way into the place. Deputy Consul Cicerius did once hint that he might help her, if circumstances allowed, but he needed a favour from her at the time. I doubt he’d come through with any real assistance if it came down to it.

Barius still lives in the family home, so that should be my next destination, though I’m not looking forward to another encounter with Professor Toarius. The Professor will be down on me like a bad spell if I start bothering his household. Toarius belongs to an important family and has a lot of influential friends. Being a professor doesn’t by itself give a man high status, but Toarius’s family own a lot of land outside the city and have been wealthy for longer than anyone can remember. Too bad, I muse, as I head towards his villa. During my career as an Investigator, I’ve already offended most important people in the city, so another one probably doesn’t matter that much.

Which reminds me. I’ve been meaning to make some enquiries about Lisutaris’s secretary. I’m curious as to why the Sorcerer is so protective towards her. I break off my mission to call in on a tavern owner I know who used to be employed as head of stables by Tas of the Eastern Lightning. When that Sorcerer handed in his toga a year or so back, the stableman found himself out of a job and ended up putting his savings into a tavern, which suits him well enough. I once got his son off a charge of assault after a street fracas and he’s helped me once or twice before with his knowledge of the staff and servants of our city’s Sorcerers.

“Lisutaris’s secretary? Sure I remember her. Avenaris. Nervous little thing. Daughter of Lisutaris’s older brother. When he was killed in the war, Lisutaris took her in. Looked after her ever since. What’s she been up to?”

“Nothing that I know of. What does she have to be nervous about?”

“Who knows?”

He can’t tell me any more. Avenaris has never been in trouble and is a loyal employee. No scandal, no boyfriends. Just nervous. I thank him, leave him enough money for a few drinks, and get back to my quest.

Professor Toarius lives in Thamlin. I’m amazed as always at how neat and clean everything is. No rubbish on the streets, no beggars on the corners, no stray dogs looking hungrily for food. The pavements are covered in the pale yellow and green tiles that are a distinctive feature of Turai’s wealthy areas, and every large house is set well back from the road, fronted by extensive gardens. The streets are quiet, with well-behaved servants carrying provisions home to their employers, and a visible presence of Civil Guards, here to keep out undesirables.

When an official-looking carriage pulls up alongside me, my first thought is that I’ve been deemed undesirable. I’m astonished when the curtains of the carriage open and the Consul himself beckons to me. I’ve met Consul Kalius before but I wouldn’t expect Turai’s highest official to be searching the streets for me.

“Get in,” instructs Kalius.

I get in.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

Kalius must be sixty years old. His toga is lined with gold as befits his rank, and he wears it with pride. As Turanian Consuls go, he’s moderately well regarded. If he’s not exactly as sharp as an Elf’s ear, then neither is he the most foolish we’ve had, and while he lacks Cicerius’s reputation for fierce incorruptibility, at least he hasn’t been flagrant in taking bribes, and he’s a lot more charismatic than his deputy.

“I wish to talk with you. Here will do as well as anywhere.”

I’m puzzled by the meeting. I ask the Consul if he just happened to be riding by.

“I was searching for you. My Sorcerer located you and I rode quickly to intercept you.”