Thraxas - The Complete Series (99 page)

“Gaxeen? What’s that?”

Makri puts down her tray, her meal unfinished. She is rarely an enthusiastic eater.

“Orcish. The Way of the Gaxeen. It translates as something like the ‘Spirit of the Insane Warrior.’ It’s what you do when you find yourself faced with insurmountable odds. Or up against an opponent whom you can’t beat with skill or craft. You go Gaxeen, as we used to say. A fury in which you do not fear for your life.”

I’m interested. Much of Makri’s experience of Orcish ways is unknown to us in the west. A few months ago she helped me solve a case with her knowledge of Orcish religion and prior to that I didn’t even know they had a religion.

“How long does it take to learn the Way of the Gaxeen?”

“Depends on the person, or the Orc. When I first started fighting I picked up skill with weapons easily enough, but one day my trainer said I hadn’t enough spirit so he’d decided to execute me. He took away my swords and told the four gladiators standing nearby that whoever killed me would get a reward. And after I’d scaled the wall of the pit, slain a guard with my bare hands to get his sword, then massacred the four gladiators in a blind fury, my trainer clapped me on the back and said, ‘Well done, you have learned the Way of the Gaxeen.’ I rather liked that old trainer. I had to kill him later, of course, when I made my escape.”

“Well, Makri, this is a fabulous gift for Isuas. When she starts slaughtering her playmates I imagine Lord Kalith will be beside himself with joy. How is she doing? If she can win one fight I might be up for some good winnings, which of course I’ll share with you.”

Makri shakes her head.

“Don’t bet on her. She’s still hopeless. If her first opponent has two legs and two arms she won’t last thirty seconds.”

“What if he’s only got one arm and one leg?”

“She still won’t win.”

Not wishing to let good food go to waste, I pick up Makri’s tray and finish off what’s left.

“I’m stuck in my investigation. I’ve managed to uncover some strange things but none of it is helping to clear Elith. You’ve heard about the dwa in the pool? That’s what was polluting the water and giving the Elves bad dreams. And I’m sure that’s what made you so stoned when we visited the Tree Palace. Someone has discovered that dwa mixed with the sacred water makes for a powerful drug that affects Elves. No doubt that’s why all these young Elves have been acting so strangely, going around with glazed eyes, not working, breaking their word and so on. And though Kalith will never acknowledge it, I’m certain that the Elf who fell from the rigging did so while under the influence. Took his supply with him on the voyage.”

Makri nods. “Makes sense. I can see why they’d all go for it. I felt great after I drank the water. Do you have any more?”

I frown. “That’s not quite the reaction I was looking for, Makri. You’re supposed to be outraged that the foul substance dwa is now polluting the world of the Elves.”

“Oh well, that too. Yes, it’s a shock. The Avulans will have to take swift action to prevent it spreading. Maybe we should hunt around, see if anyone else has some of the mixture and confiscate it?”

I glare at Makri. Back in Turai I have more than once suspected that she has been experimenting with dwa and I strongly disapprove.

“Never mind confiscating drugs. We already have a reputation as people of immoderate habits. Lord Kalith was fairly cutting on the subject, and that was before I beat him at niarit again. Now he’s as miserable as a Niojan whore and will be down on us like a bad spell if he catches us doing anything disreputable.

“If Elith-ir-Methet would just tell me exactly what was going on between her and Gulas, I might be able to get to the bottom of the affair. I should look into who is bringing the dwa into Avula, but with so few contacts it could take me a long time to find out, and I’m short of time. I’ll suggest to Jir-ar-Eth that he does some sorcerous scanning of the harbours. He might be able to pick up something. And I’d like to have someone examine Gorith-ar-Del’s movements over the past few months. There’s an Elf who’s a strong suspect. He gave up his job and now he keeps hanging round the Hesuni Tree acting suspiciously.”

“Do you think whoever is dealing dwa is responsible for attacking us?” says Makri.

“Yes. Back in Turai it’s the first thing I’d have suspected, but I just never expected it here.”

Makri wonders if Elith-ir-Methet is clamming up just to avoid the disgrace of having a calanith relationship with a Tree Priest.

“Surely her being executed is more of a disgrace for the rest of the family?”

“Who knows? Taboos are funny things when you’re outside them. I can’t work out what they’d find most important. Every other Elf who’s involved is running for cover. There’s no chance of any co-operation there.”

Inspiration suddenly strikes.

“I know someone I might be able to put a little pressure on—Droo’s boyfriend. Name of Lithias, I think. A poetic young Elf, last seen being tossed into a cell at the Tree Palace. From the way he was swaying around I’d say he was one rebellious youth who’d been dabbling with foreign substances. Perhaps Droo would persuade him to come clean about everything and that might give me some sort of lever over Elith.”

“Will Droo help you?”

“She might. She seemed to like me. Anyway, I’ll tell her it’s the best thing she can do for her boyfriend. That usually works, even when it isn’t true.”

And so it proves the next day when we locate Droo at a treehouse not far from Camith’s. She’s not actually in the house; she’s perched at the end of a slender branch high above the ground. Lithias’s incarceration has plunged her into gloom and she has not moved from the spot for twenty-four hours. Her parents are so worried that they are actually glad to see Makri and me climbing up their dwelling place, although, as with most of the Avulans, they cannot prevent themselves from examining us with interest and some suspicion. Particularly Makri. Everyone still gapes at her, though less impolitely than when we first arrived. The mother is in tears, the father is raging, and they’re cursing the fate that made their daughter fall in love with such a hopeless specimen as Lithias.

“Why couldn’t she have fallen for a warrior?” wails her mother. “Or the silversmith’s son?”

“You aren’t planning to jump, are you?” I call, from the safety of the treehouse.

“Maybe,” replies Droo.

“It’s not that bad. Lithias hasn’t done anything serious, Lord Kalith will let him go in a day or two. We’re going there now. Come with us and we can sort things out.”

Droo looks up.

“You’re really going to see him?”

“Yes. We have free access into the Palace, courtesy of Lady Yestar.”

Droo rises and hops nimbly along the branch. She ignores the admonitions from her parents and rushes inside the house, saying that she has to brush her hair before seeing Lithias.

“Lithias is a fool,” says her father. He turns to Makri. “And your nose ring is disgusting.”

“Well, we’d better get going,” I say.

The Elf gives me a stern look. ”You are the Investigator? You look like you would have difficulty finding a large tree in a small field.”

This is one rude Elf. I start to understand why young Droo might not be that happy at home.

“I’d have let her stay on the branch,” he mutters as a parting shot, then departs into the house.

Droo reappears. Her short yellow hair is sticking up from her head. It’s an odd style for an Elf.

“You know why Lithias was arrested? He tried to start a fight with the blacksmith over a poem. How ridiculous. He’s been like that for weeks. Just one irrational action after another.”

Droo studies Makri as we take the walkway towards the Tree Palace.

“Are your toenails really golden?”

“Of course not. I’ve painted them.”

Droo, unfamiliar with the concept of painted toenails, is impressed. “Did it hurt getting your nose pierced?”

“Not really. But it was sore when the Orcs ripped it out during a fight.”

“I wanted to get my ears pierced, but my father wouldn’t let me. It’s calanith for Elves to pierce their bodies.”

I hasten to change the subject. Makri has an unfortunate habit of wondering out loud about getting rings put through her nipples and I never like to hear this sort of thing.

“How long has Lithias been acting strangely?”

“Months. Of course, he never did act entirely normally. That’s why I like him. But recently he’s just been out of control.”

“You know he’s been taking dwa?”

Droo’s face falls. “I told him it was stupid.”

I ask the young poet if she knows whom he buys it from, but she says that she doesn’t. Nor does she know who has been bringing it to the island.

“I stayed well away from the whole thing.”

I’m not sure if she’s telling the truth, but I let it pass. Halfway to the Palace we come across an Elf I recognise. It’s Shuthan-ir-Hemas, Avula’s favourite juggler. She’s lying on the wooden pathway, sleeping. Her juggling kit is strewn around her in disarray.

“Oh dear,” says Droo, who obviously recognises the symptoms. So do I. You can’t walk around Twelve Seas without stumbling over addicts lying unconscious on every street corner, but I never thought I’d see it spreading like this among the young Elves.

We have some difficulty getting in to see Lithias and are denied access till Makri sends a message to Lady Yestar requesting permission as a favour to me. She smiles smugly.

“You’d be lost without me, Thraxas.”

“I can’t think how I ever managed. Okay, let’s question the errant poet.”

Lithias’s cell is as clean and airy as was mine, but Lithias, unused to incarceration, is slumped in despair by the wall. When he sees Droo he leaps to his feet with a cry of joy and they embrace. I let it go on for a few seconds before getting down to business. I ask Droo to leave us alone. She departs unwillingly, promising Lithias that she’ll wait for him.

“Lithias, I have some questions for you. Answer them, let me sort things out, and nothing much will happen to you. If you refuse to answer, Lord Kalith will be down on you like a bad spell. It’s going to dawn on him soon how large a problem he has with dwa and I get the feeling he might just exile everyone who’s touched it.”

Lithias hangs his head.

“I can’t tell you anything,” he says.

“You have to. Otherwise you’ll be banished from Avula and Droo’s mother will marry her off to the silversmith’s son.”

This gets to him. “The silversmith’s son? Has he been hanging around Droo again?”

“Like bees round honey. And if you ever want to get out of this cell, you better talk to me. I want to know everything about the dwa in the sacred pool and I want to know everything you can tell me about Elith-ir-Methet, Gulas-ar-Thetos and his brother. Start at the beginning and don’t stop unless I tell you to.”

Lithias begins to talk; what he has to say is very interesting indeed, and long overdue. It turns out that young Lithias has been filling himself up with happy juice for the past three months, since a friend of his, another young poet, told him that if he wanted to have an experience that was worth writing a poem about he could show him how.

Lithias never wrote any poems. The drug made him too crazy to concentrate on poetry. “It felt good at first. After a while I didn’t like it so much, but I couldn’t stop.”

He claims that only ten or so Elves were regular imbibers of the mixture of dwa and Hesuni water, but even so I’m surprised that such a thing could go on unnoticed right in the middle of the island. Lithias claims that they didn’t actually have to go to the Hesuni Tree as the supplier would bring the mixture out to a clearing in the forest where he’d sell it to the Elves. Fairly cheaply, it seems, which would be standard behaviour at first. They’d soon find the price was on the way up.

“Who brought it to the island?”

Lithias doesn’t know. He’s frustratingly vague about the details and claims not even to know the identity of the Elf he bought it off.

“Would you recognise him again?”

Lithias shakes his head. “He wore a cowl and stood in the shadows. I never saw his face. Everything was very secret.”

“It might have started off as a secret, but these things never stay that way. Earlier today I stepped over the unconscious figure of Avula’s best-loved juggler and she wasn’t making any attempt to hide what she’d been doing. How did Elith get involved? Was it through Gulas?“

Lithias doesn’t know. He thinks that Elith was already taking dwa when he started.

“She was always hanging around the Hesuni Tree because she had a passion for Gulas. They were lovers before his father’s death made him the Priest. He didn’t want to be Priest, but he didn’t have a choice. So they weren’t meant to see each other any more, but I don’t think they ever stopped. I used to hear some gossip about it. Lasas was never happy about it.”

“Lasas? His brother? Why not?”

“Because he was in love with Elith as well. It drove him crazy that she was in love with his brother. Didn’t you know that?”

M
akri is waiting for me outside the cell.

“Learn anything?”