Thraxas - The Complete Series (152 page)

I’m already in pursuit. I’ve been forbidden to question this young woman. Always makes an Investigator suspicious. I cut her off with my bulk. She regards me rather nervously. I introduce myself but she already knows who I am.

“I was wondering if you could help me with a few questions.”

“Lisutaris would not wish me to talk about her business with anyone,” says Avenaris. “Even an Investigator she hired. Excuse me.”

She tries to walk past. I get in the way. She’s looking very, very nervous. More nervous than she should be. I’m not that frightening, not in daylight anyway. Not frightening enough to make a person develop a facial tic within seconds of meeting me, yet Avenaris’s eyelid is starting to tremble violently.

“Maybe you could just tell me a little about what happened that day at the stadium—”

“What is going on here?”

It’s Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky.

“Did I not specifically tell you to leave my secretary alone?”

“He stood in my way,” says Avenaris, making it sound like a major crime. She’s now close to tears.

“I’m sorry,” says Lisutaris, attempting to pacify her. “He really had no business bothering you. Go home now, I’ll make sure he doesn’t trouble you again.”

Avenaris walks off swiftly, still attended by the servants. The Sorceress regards me with fury.

“How dare you harass my staff!”

“Save the lecture, Lisutaris. What’s the matter with her? I asked her a polite question and she practically broke down in tears.”

“She is a young woman of nervous disposition. Far too delicate to be confronted by the likes of you. I must insist—”

“You should’ve let me talk to her. I get the strong impression she knows something.”

“Do I have to remind you that Avenaris is my niece? I did not hire you to harass my family. For the last time, stay away from my secretary.”

Lisutaris looks genuinely threatening. I drop the subject, for now anyway. I’ll pursue it later, no matter what Lisutaris says.

“Encountered any unicorns?” I ask.

“No. But there were two mermaids in my fish ponds, albeit briefly. I’m baffled. They’re obviously sorcerous apparitions but I can’t trace their source.”

“Did you get my message about Horm the Dead?”

Lisutaris nods, and frowns.

“Horm the Dead is a very dangerous individual. Consul Kalius should be immediately informed that he is in the city.”

“And has he been?”

“No,” admits Lisutaris. “I’m still trying to keep things quiet.”

In the past few days Lisutaris has been subjected to much questioning from fellow Sorcerers and government officials. So far it has remained informal.

“Deputy Consul Cicerius visited to ask me about some aqueduct renovations. I wasn’t aware that he valued my opinion on the city’s water supply. Harmon Half Elf happened to find himself in the vicinity and dropped in to share an amusing story about some Elvish Sorcerers.”

Given Lisutaris’s status, it’s difficult for anyone to come right out and demand to know what’s going on, though it’s perfectly obvious that something is. However, having moved heaven, earth and the three moons to get her elected as head of the Sorcerers Guild, no one in Turai wants her to be plunged into disgrace only a few months later. Turai would be severely damaged in the eyes of all nations.

“They’re hovering round the subject. I’ve been keeping quiet like you suggested, but I can’t hold out for ever. Tilupasis was sniffing round for information and you know what a cunning operator she is. I was reduced to telling her that I really had to ask her to leave because I needed some privacy to smoke my thazis pipe, so there goes my reputation among Turai’s aristocratic matrons. Now it’ll be all over Thamlin that Lisutaris can’t grant you more than a half-hour audience before she has to smoke thazis.”

“Didn’t everyone know that already?” asks Makri, who has not yet learned how to be tactful.

“I am not reliant on thazis,” says Lisutaris, coldly.

“Oh,” says Makri. “Sorry. I thought you were. I remember when you collapsed at the Sorcerers Assemblage and I had to carry you to your pipe and you were gasping about how you needed thazis, so I just naturally assumed—”

“Could we discuss this another time?” says Lisutaris, shooting her an angry glance. She turns the angry glance in my direction.

“Not that I had much reputation left after word got around that I’d hired you to buy back my diary which I was desperate to retrieve due to its being full of extremely intimate love poems. I understand that guessing the identity of my secret lover is now a popular game at dinner parties.”

“I’m shocked, Lisutaris. When I told Kalius about your diary, I thought he’d keep it a secret.”

“Who is it?” asks Makri.

“Who is who?”

“The person you’re in love with?”

“I’m not in love with anyone. Thraxas made it up.”

Makri looks puzzled.

“Why?”

“I needed a cover story. It was all I could think of.”

Makri is of the opinion that I could have done better.

“After all, many people say you’re one of the finest liars in the city.”

Lisutaris is certain that the Consul is going to ask to see the pendant when he comes to the ball.

“Kalius might not be sharp as an Elf’s ear, but even he must know by now I’ve lost the pendant. Damn it, I wish I hadn’t chosen this moment to hold a social function.”

“Talking of your social function,” I say, “Horm the Dead mentioned that he might be paying a visit.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And as you say, Horm is a very dangerous individual. I think it would be wise for you to have some extra personal protection at the ball.”

“You may be right,” says Lisutaris.

I wait for my invitation. Lisutaris turns to Makri.

“Would you mind being my bodyguard again?”

“I’d be delighted,” answers Makri.

I stare morosely at the jeweller’s window. Lisutaris is a disgrace to the city. Her abuse of thazis is a public scandal. She deserves to be exiled.

“What do you suggest we do now, Investigator?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“I can’t really blame you for that,” sighs Lisutaris. “I have no idea what to do either.”

I’ve started to believe that there is no point investigating. Either someone is deliberately leading us on and mocking us at every turn, or the situation has become so chaotic that there is no point in doing anything. Either way, I’m beaten.

“If no one has any plans for saving the city, how about going to see Barius?” suggests Makri, brightly.

“Who is Barius?” asks Lisutaris.

“Professor Toarius’s son. I think he might be able to shed some light on Makri’s expulsion.”

Lisutaris offers to take us there in her carriage, which is waiting nearby. She doesn’t feel like going home, fearing that she will once more be confronted by an inquisitive Sorcerer or curious government official.

“Six more deaths in the city today,” I say. “Brings the total to twenty-seven, near as I can count. For that many unexplained deaths the Abode of Justice will call in a Sorcerer. Old Hasius the Brilliant will learn every detail of the affair.”

“Not for a long time,” says Lisutaris. “The moons are way out of conjunction.”

For a Sorcerer to look back in time, it’s necessary for the three moons to be in a particular alignment. According to Lisutaris, we’re in the middle of one of the longest blank periods of the decade. I’d have known that if I wasn’t so lousy at sorcery.

“It’ll be months before Sorcerers can look back in time. If that wasn’t the case I’d have been looking back myself.”

The carriage takes us towards Kushni. The driver shouts at some revellers who are blocking the street. They look like they might be inclined to argue over right of way, but when they recognise Lisutaris’s rainbow livery on the side of the carriage, they hastily move, not wishing to be blasted by a spell.

“Do you think we should revise our bet?” asks Makri. “The three of us have ended up placing a bet on thirty-five deaths. But with the count now at twenty-seven this may not be high enough.”

Lisutaris manages a grim laugh.

“True. And if the Consul freezes my assets before bringing me to trial, I may be in need of some money to pay for a lawyer. What’s the cut-off point for this wager?”

Makri looks a little uncomfortable.

“Well, you know, when the case comes to an end…”

“And when would that be?”

“When Thraxas solves it. Or gets killed. Or you get arrested.”

Lisutaris is shocked.

“The Turanian masses are gambling on me being arrested?”

“Only tangentially,” says Makri.

“Have they no respect for the head of the Sorcerers Guild?”

“Don’t complain,” I tell the Sorcerer. “It’s not as bad as betting on me dying.”

“I think Lisutaris dying also brings the betting to an end,” says Makri, helpfully. “But no one is really expecting that to happen. Apart from Parax the shoemaker; I think he wagered a little on Lisutaris’s death. And maybe one or two others. Captain Rallee as well. But not many. It’s definitely not as popular an option as Thraxas handing in his toga. Do you have any thazis?”

We smoke Lisutaris’s thazis sticks as we make our way through the busy streets. Even in the tense situation I appreciate the high quality of her narcotic.

“Grown in your own gardens?”

“Yes. Or rather, in the glasshouse I built last year.”

“You have a glasshouse?”

“A special construction,” explains the Sorcerer. “For protecting plants from the elements and maximising the sunlight that feeds them. They were first used in Simnia. I believe mine is the first in Turai.”

I’ve never heard of such a thing, and once more marvel at Lisutaris’s dedication to her favourite substance. Thazis is imported into Turai from the southeast, where it’s extensively cultivated. Though I’ve known people to occasionally produce their own plants, I don’t think anyone else in the city is capable of growing it in volume. A glasshouse. I would hardly have believed it was possible. It must have been extremely expensive.

“Fabulously expensive,” agrees Lisutaris. “But with the amount of rain we have in Turai, nothing else will do.”

Lisutaris turns sharply to Makri.

“Why has Captain Rallee placed a bet on me dying?” she demands. “Has he some inside information?”

Makri doesn’t think so, but Lisutaris is troubled. Maybe it’s the thazis. Overuse can lead to feelings of paranoia. I ask Makri casually if many people are betting money on me dying.

“Hundreds of people,” answers Makri. “It’s a strong favourite. The moment the Brotherhood got involved, money started pouring in.”

“I’m damned if I’m going to die just to win money for a lot of degenerates in the Avenging Axe. You think the Brotherhood worries me? Anyway, I thought this betting was just on the body count?”

Makri shrugs.

“It sort of grew. Moxalan was getting so many enquiries he had to take on an assistant and widen his range.”

The carriage pulls up and we climb out into the dusty street. Lisutaris is clad in her rainbow cloak. Possibly fatalistic by now, she makes no attempt to disguise herself as we stride into the Rampant Unicorn, a tavern on the outskirts of Kushni where, I’m told, Barius is often to be found. It’s yet another appalling den of iniquity, and at the sight of the head of the Sorcerers Guild striding through the doors, the place goes quiet. Several customers, presuming that Lisutaris must be here on official business, and whatever this business is it can’t be good for them, scurry for cover as the Mistress of the Sky heads towards the bar.

“I am looking for a young man by the name of Barius,” she says.

“He’s upstairs,” blurts the barman, quaking as he imagines the effect a spell from a disgruntled Sorcerer might have on him.

“This way,” says Lisutaris, leading myself and Makri up the stairs. She’s looking pleased with herself.

“I have never investigated anything before. It does not seem to be overly difficult.”

I stifle a sarcastic response, and follow Lisutaris to one of four doors that lead off the upstairs corridor. Lisutaris tries the first door. Finding it locked, she mutters a minor word of power and it springs open. Inside the private room we find a stout man in a toga in the embrace of a woman who’s young enough to be his granddaughter, but probably isn’t a relation.

“I beg your pardon, Senator Alesius,” says Lisutaris grandly, and leads us back into the corridor.

“Well, that spoiled his afternoon’s entertainment,” I say. “The thing about investigating, you don’t just barge through the first door you come to.”

“And how did you expect me to choose?”

“It’s a matter of experience and intuition,” I explain. “You develop it after a few years in the business.”

“Very well,” says Lisutaris, motioning to the three remaining doors. “Which do you recommend?”

I select the door on the left. Lisutaris again mutters a word of power and it springs open. Inside we find a well-dressed middle-aged woman with plenty of jewels and a younger man, naked, who looks like he might be a professional athlete, both of them very busy with a pipe full of dwa.

“I beg your pardon, Marwini,” says Lisutaris, and withdraws from the room, quite elegantly. Makri and I stumble out after her, rather embarrassed at the whole thing.

“Who was that?”

“Praetor Capatius’s wife,” says Lisutaris. “Really, I had no idea. One always understood that they were a contented couple. Only last week she informed me over a glass of wine that she had never felt happier with her husband.”

“Probably because he’s coming home less.”

“Is this sort of behaviour standard all over Kushni?”

“Pretty standard,” I reply. “Though they might have to find a new place to misbehave if you keep using spells to open doors.”

“I want to pick the next room,” says Makri.

Inside the next room we find Barius. He’s lying semiconscious on a couch. The room stinks of dwa. From the overpowering aroma and general squalidness of the situation, I’d say he’d been lying here for a few days.

“I picked the right room,” says Makri, happily.

“You only had two doors to choose from.”

“That’s not the point. You were wrong and I was right.”