Thraxas - The Complete Series (47 page)

“Kill them!” roars Tholius again.

At that moment the ground cracks open at our feet and a river emerges in a torrent, separating us from our pursuers. By the time they collect their wits they’re looking at us across fifty feet of swiftly flowing water. I laugh. A very satisfying turn of events. I saunter down to the water’s edge.

“Hi, Tholius,” I call. “Fancy a swim?”

Tholius is nonplussed. Ixial the Seer is untroubled.

“The river will not remain for long.”

“I wouldn’t count on your powers of farseeing working in here, Ixial. The magic space is very distorting, even for a man like yourself. Congratulations on your recovery. Now your legs are better you’ll be able to walk up to the scaffold. Incidentally, it was rash of you to follow us. Just shows you’re far too keen on gold for your own good. Do any of you have any idea how to get out of the magic space?”

From the looks of uncertainty that flit over the various faces on the other side of the river I can tell that is something they haven’t considered. Our conversation is interrupted by a brief but heavy downpour of frogs.

“So, Tholius,” I shout, as the last frog hops merrily away. “What’s the plan?”

“Kill you,” he roars back.

“Not such a bad plan, perhaps. Depends on your point of view. Another alternative would be to turn yourselves over to Captain Rallee here, and face the consequences of your illegal actions.”

Tholius isn’t so keen on this. He likes his own plan better. Despite their losses in the tavern, the Prefect and Casax still have plenty of armed men with them. So do Ixial the Seer and the Venerable Tresius, so they’ll probably be able to carry out his wish if this river suddenly disappears. I maintain a confident front and continue to torment Tholius from the safety of our present position.

Captain Rallee scratches his head. It annoys me the way he doesn’t have any grey in his hair. Mine is just as long but it is starting to look streaky. I still contend that my moustache is better than his and it always has been.

“Thraxas. Just in case we ever get out of this place alive. And just in case I don’t throw you right in the slammer for having the King’s gold in your possession, how about filling me in on some details? I only came to commiserate at the death of your friend. I wasn’t prepared to meet half of the city’s low-life and a bunch of mad monks fighting over stolen treasure else I’d have brought some men with me. I take it this is all connected to Drantaax’s murder?”

“It sure is. It’s a complicated affair. I’ll simplify it for you. These two groups of monks are rivals. Ixial the Seer is head of the Star Temple and Tresius is head of the Cloud Temple. They fought, partly about religion but mainly about who was to be number one chariot. Living up in the mountains drives them mad, I reckon. You remember how hot it was when we held off the Niojans at the pass?”

“Never mind the Niojans at the pass. What happened with the monks?”

“They fought, mainly. And then they split in two. Both temples found themselves missing a statue. Which gave Ixial the Seer a very good idea. He’d steal the new statue Drantaax was making for Turai to put him one up on Tresius and probably make the Cloud Temple monks return to the Star Temple. And then Sarin the Merciless, who used to be Ixial’s student in the martial arts, came to Ixial with an even better idea. She knew Prefect Tholius back when she was bringing dwa into the city. He was taking a pay-off to look the other way, which is standard behaviour for officials in this city, yourself excepted of course. Whether the idea was Tholius’s or Sarin’s I don’t know, but it occurred to one of them that the gold shipments from the King’s mines passed by not too far from Ixial’s monastery.

“These shipments are a well-kept secret. The routes and timings are only ever discussed in magic-proof rooms lined with Red Elvish Cloth, but Prefect Tholius obviously has connections at the Palace and learned when the next one was due. He gave the details to Sarin, who passed them on to Ixial. So the Star Temple robbed the convoy, slaughtering the guards in the process.

“Then came their very good idea. Instead of disappearing into the hills with the gold where they’d have been tracked soon enough by Palace Sorcerers, they brought the gold straight to Turai and hid it inside the new statue. You realise how safe that was?”

“Yes,” says the Captain, who is a smart guy. “No Sorcerer would check inside a statue of Saint Quatinius. It would be blasphemous.”

“Right. The plan was to leave it there till the statue was taken out to the shrine. When the heat died down Ixial would steal it from the shrine, cut it open and take out the loot. Once he put it back together he’d have a nice pile of gold as well as a new statue. I guess he wasn’t too worried about blasphemy.

“Which is where things went wrong. The Venerable Tresius had a spy in the Star Temple and he discovered what was going on and ever since then he’s been after the gold and the statue for himself. The Cloud Temple made a full-scale attack on the Star Temple during which Ixial was nearly killed. He had to come to the city to get healed. By now Tresius had learned the gold was in Turai and probably in Drantaax’s statue. He arrived too late to intercept it so he hired me to find it. I didn’t realise that Saint Quatinius was full of gold though I knew something strange was going on.”

I gaze over the river. The monks are looking back at us. Do they believe they are furthering their religion with this behaviour? Probably, if Ixial and Tresius tell them they are. A flock of silver birds flies overhead, turning gold and then white in front of our eyes. Heavenly music floats down from the sky. Fluffy rabbits emerge to play around our feet. It’s cutesy time in the magic space.

“What really went wrong for Ixial and Tholius was getting involved with Sarin the Merciless. As soon as the gold was inside the statue and Ixial was lying crippled in the mountains she decided that it would be much better if she didn’t have to share it around too much.

“She’s a clever woman, Sarin the Merciless. Totally heartless, but sharp as an Elf’s ear nonetheless. She knew that Sorcerers from the Palace and the Abode of Justice were looking for the gold. Old Hasius the Brilliant himself had been down to Drantaax’s house. She couldn’t load the statue on a wagon and ride out of town. She’d have been spotted right away. So she hunted around for some way of getting the gold safely away. And she hit on the notion of a magic purse. Rare items indeed, but she knew where to find one, thanks to her dwa-dealing days. She remembered that old Thalius Green Eye, who wasn’t much use for Sorcery any more, was taking dwa up to the Palace in a magic purse. So she went and killed him, and stole it. And then, I think, she stole the statue, leaving some yellow flower petals to put Investigators off the scent. The Cloud Temple wear yellow flowers for ceremonial reasons. I guess that was her idea of a joke.

“And then something unusual happened. Sarin must have some shred of humanity in her miserable being because when she heard Ixial was being brought to the city to die she went back to see him. Being his student for four years might have stirred some emotion in her breast. I saw her try to kill Tresius, so she must feel something for Ixial. Sarin doesn’t normally kill for anyone else’s benefit. So I figure she felt something for her old teacher. Not enough to prevent her robbing him though.”

“I suppose if Ixial was going to die she wasn’t really robbing him, to be fair,” says Makri, interrupting.

I frown at her.

“All these logic and rhetoric classes are bad for you, Makri. You should stick to being savage. Sarin practically killed you a few hours ago. Anyway, she was too smart to carry the statue in the purse when she went to see Ixial. He is a seer and might have perceived she had the gold. So she left the purse with the two men she’d hired to help her get the statue into the purse, a job she couldn’t manage on her own. You could pull the purse right down over it, but you’d still need help to tip the base up. She probably told her two accomplices to disappear for a day or two and then meet her.

“Unfortunately they washed up in the Avenging Axe, which wouldn’t have been a bad place to lie low if one of them hadn’t happened to be a man I put in prison a few years back who was still looking for revenge. They were killed in the fight, which only brought their deaths forward a few days, because Sarin would certainly have disposed of them when she was done with them.

“That put me right in the centre of things. Once Sarin learned where the men had been killed she knew I was involved and figured I’d probably ended up with the purse. She’s been after me ever since. So have the Star Temple. Whether Sarin told Ixial some tale to explain why I had the statue, or whether his powers led him to it, I don’t know. Which brought the yellow monks down on my tail as well, when their spies told them what was going on.”

I look down at the rabbit nestling on my toes, then up at the great comet that is now shining in the sky.

“Yes, Captain, while the Civil Guard has floundered around helplessly with no idea where the gold was, and these people have been chasing around after it, I’ve recovered it for the King. So don’t give me the outraged bit about withholding evidence. I’ve solved a case that was quite likely to get you busted down to Private when you made no progress with it.”

I notice Tholius from the corner of my eye. He seems to be getting closer. Much closer.

“Damn it. Why did no one tell me the river was drying up?”

“We were all fascinated by your explanation,” says Makri.

“This is no time for sarcasm.”

“No, I mean it, really. I love it when you work these things out.”

The river is now down to about ten feet wide and the monks are starting to wade over.

“Run,” says the Captain.

We run. The sun might be green but it doesn’t prevent it from being as hot as Orcish hell in here. I’m soon sweating badly and panting for breath. If we can reach a forest of yellow trees we’ll have some cover. I struggle to keep up with the pace. Abruptly the forest disappears. Just vanishes into thin air. Damn this magic space. I halt at the statue of Saint Quatinius.

“Attack the heretics!” I demand, pointing at the pursuing horde. The statue doesn’t move. So much for that idea I reflect grimly, and carry on running.

A giant castle hoves into view in the distance.

“Make for the castle!” yells Captain Rallee.

We make for the castle. As we approach, it disappears.

“To hell with this,” says Makri, unsheathing her sword and turning to face her opponents. “I’m not running any more.”

“Please, Makri, not now.”

Makri plants her feet firmly on the ground, her sword and her axe in her hands, waiting for our pursuers to reach us.

“Why can’t you just run away like a normal person?” I demand

“It’s dishonourable.”

“Well how much honour was there in the Orc slave pits, for God’s sake?”

“Not much. But I’m not running any more. That’s that.”

I sigh, and draw my sword. “Well, I’m too beat to run any further anyway. I never figured I’d be making my death stand under a green sun.”

“It’s turned purple.”

“Or a purple one.”

Unwilling to leave us to be hacked down alone, Captain Rallee and Gurd stop running and stand at our side.

“Getting too old to run,” says Gurd, with a grin, which makes me remember what a good, cheerful companion he was when we were mercenaries together.

“Me too,” I tell him. “And too fat. Well, we’ve got out of worse scrapes than this.”

“Sure we have. Remember the Niojan riverboat that thought we were crocodiles?”

We bellow with laughter at the memory. I doubt we’re fooling anyone. Tholius and the rest are now very close. Having combined forces and concentrated their attack I wouldn’t think it’ll take them too long to dispatch us. We have no cover at all and even Makri’s remarkable fighting skills can’t prevent the monks from encircling us and sticking us full of throwing stars. Makri is wearing only her chainmail bikini. None of us are wearing armour. We’ll take plenty of them with us, but they’ll win in the end.

The talking pig makes another appearance at our side. “Attack the heretics,” I suggest, without much hope.

“Sorry, I’m on holiday,” says the pig, and vanishes.

“What a waste of time this place is,” I say, angrily. “You think we might get a dragon flying down to protect us or something like that. But no, all we get is a pig that talks about theology and then goes on holiday.”

I stop speaking rubbish for a second. Something has just occurred to me.

“Makri, I just realised who really killed Drantaax.”

At that moment the Venerable Tresius lands in front of me, somehow deflects my sword with the flat of his hand, and kicks me several feet in the air. It hurts. I’m bracing myself for it to hurt more on the way down when a terrific gale whips me up and blows me into a tree that has appeared from nowhere. Trees sprout up everywhere and suddenly a storm of random acts of magic makes it impossible for anyone to come to blows with anyone else. Ferocious insects of weird colours appear to torment us while the wind blows great gusts of purple hailstones about our heads. I notice Hanama in an adjoining tree, calmly waiting. I wonder if Ixial knows there’s a contract out on him.

Combat is reduced to farce by the intervening magical forces. The trees disappear but before anyone can think about fighting again a volcano begins to sprout from the ground.

Everyone starts to look nervous as we wonder whether the angry-looking volcano will vanish before it erupts. Smoke pours from the apex and lava is starting to trickle down its sides. The earth begins to shake.

Captain Rallee looks at the growing volcano, then at me.

“How do we get out of here?” he asks, a demand echoed by Prefect Tholius as the ground shakes and groans and lava begins to pour in torrents towards us. Casax is a fearless man and stands his ground, but his Brotherhood enforcers are starting to look nervous.

“A good question. And one which Prefect Tholius should have thought of before following us in here. Escaping from the magic space is no easy matter. How about you?” I call over to Ixial the Seer. “Any suggestions?”