by Martin Scott
We start to walk back along the trench. It’s still in decent shape though several of the supporting wall slats have come down and will need replacing. Behind me Makri is still complaining to Lisutaris. ‘Thraxas has been wanting to punch me ever since I arrived in Turai. Just waiting for an excuse. His behaviour towards women is horrifying, there’s no other word for it.’
‘I know,’ agrees Lisutaris. ‘But you wont have to put up with it for much longer. Another two days should see us at the walls.’
I trudge on, refusing to engage. I’m battered, filthy and badly in need of beer. Failing that, some Elvish wine and some peace and quiet. When I approach my wagon and I’m intercepted by Hanama, I know I’m not about to get either.
Chapter Twenty
‘Captain Thraxas, I have information.’ Hanama lowers her voice. ‘My unit intercepted messages sent by Legate Denpir to the King of Nioj. Along with war news, the Legate reports that Archbishop Gudurius recommends an assault on Turai as soon as the Orcs are defeated. His reasoning being that the Niojans will be able to wrest control of the city from the depleted Turanian forces.’
‘I’ve talked to the Archbishop. He didn’t seem hostile towards Turai.’
‘He would be unlikely to admit his hostility to you.’
‘True. He was much more friendly than I anticipated, which did make me suspicious. Did you inform Lisutaris about the messages?’
‘Yes. It’s now vital that Bishop-General Ritari remains in control of the Niojan forces. Make sure your investigation doesn’t weaken his position in any way.’
I don’t like Hanama telling me how to do my job, though she’s right.
‘It would also be helpful if you could discredit the Archbishop.’
‘Nothing I can do will discredit a Niojan Archbishop.’
‘You already suspect him of being behind the murder of Captain Istaros.’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘Even if I proved he was, the Niojans wouldn’t pay any attention to a Turanian investigator.’
‘They might,’ says Hanama. ‘King Lamachus is very strict in his prohibition of infighting between senior figures at his court. Even if the Archbishop was never prosecuted it would weaken his influence if he were found to have been attacking his colleagues.’
One again, Hanama is talking sense. I’m surprised by the conversation. With her suggestions of what’s best for Turai, it almost sounds like the diminutive assassin has loyalty to the city. I’ve never suspected her of that before. The notion that she might have loyalty towards Turai makes me marginally more sympathetic towards her.
‘One more piece of information, Captain Thraxas, concerning the fight which occurred in Elath between Captain Istaros and the Archbishop’s guards. The man who was killed was a priest named Osbaros. He was a senior figure in the Archbishop’s retinue, and something of a favourite. Why the combat occurred is a mystery. If anyone has information, they’re keeping it well guarded.’
‘If this Osbaros was a favourite of the Archbishop’s, it does make it more likely that he’s taking revenge. Thanks for the information, Captain Hanama.’ I pause. ‘You know the Niojan investigator suspects you killed Legate Apiroi?’
‘I’ve been suspected of killing a lot of people,’ says Hanama, with a trace of cold humour that’s rather untypical of her.
‘If it’s proved against you there will be trouble from Nioj.’
‘I understood our Commander instructed you to deal with it.’
‘She did. I’ll do my best.’
Captain Hanama departs. Rinderan is waiting at the wagon. ‘Captain Thraxas, I followed Pontifex Agrius, the Samsarinan priest. When he went out walking he spoke to the troops as he said, but he didn’t do that for long. Gave them a few words of encouragement but he seemed in a hurry. So much so that it wasn’t hard to avoid him seeing me. I followed him to the furthest edge of the Samsarinan encampment, close to the Simnians and Niojans, then he disappeared into a medical tent. There was a man stationed outside. I had the feeling he was there as a lookout.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I sneaked behind the tent and listened.’
I nod approvingly. ‘Good work.’
‘I don’t think sickness or injury is the main business of that medical tent. At least, Pontifex Agrius wasn’t sick or injured. He was buying dwa.’
‘Dwa? Are you sure about that?’
‘Quite sure. I could hear clearly. After he was gone, I would have investigated more but I couldn’t risk being seen by the lookout, so I don’t have any other evidence. But I’m certain I heard them discussing dwa.’
‘Well done, Ensign Rinderan. This fits in with my suspicions. Was this medical tent anywhere near where Major Magranos was killed?’
‘Very close. Does that have something to do with his death?’
‘Dwa usually has something to do with deaths in the area.’
That’s not my only suspicion. Makri was seen nearby. That’s why Baron Vosanos suspects she killed Magranos, but I’m thinking revenge probably wasn’t the reason Makri was in the vicinity of a dwa dealer. She’s shown a troubling partiality for the drug on previous occasions, particularly during stressful times. It might explain her strange behaviour in the trench, though her animated behaviour didn’t quite match the symptoms of a dwa addict. My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of Anumaris. Unlike Rinderan and me, she’s neat and tidy and still doesn’t look anything like a soldier.
‘Captain Thraxas.’ Her voice sounds strained. ‘Sareepa Lightning Strikes the Mountain asks me to inform you she will be here later with beer.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve had all day.’
Anumaris is staring at me in an odd manner. ‘Did you really strike Ensign Makri in the face?’
‘What?’
‘I was shocked to hear it. War is stressful but there’s no excuse for this.’
‘Anumaris, be quiet. I did not strike Makri. Don’t repeat such falsehoods again.’
‘I heard you–’
‘Whatever you heard was wrong. There was no violence.’
Anumaris looks mollified, to an extent. At this moment Droo bounds into view. ‘I heard Thraxas stabbed Makri! What happened? Why did you do it?’
‘I did not stab Makri! What’s the matter with you all? Don’t you know how these foolish rumours spread in wartime? Stop believing every ridiculous thing you hear.’
‘It’s not that ridiculous,’ protests Droo. ‘People say you were always fighting in Turai.’
‘People should mind their own business. I have never struck Makri. I’m known for encouraging her various endeavours. Anumaris, when is Sareepa expected?’
‘Any time. You should get ready.’
‘Ready? I’m ready now.’
‘You’re filthy. You look like you’ve been crawling in mud.’
‘I was in a trench beneath a dragon. How do you expect me to look?’
Anumaris raises her hand. I feel a brief warm glow.
‘Was that a tidy up spell? Didn’t you do that once before? Didn’t I tell you not to do it again?’ I pause. I do feel better. Looking down at my previous dirt-caked attire, I seem to be quite tidy. And clean. ‘Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Although Lisutaris has forbidden all sorcery that’s not directly for the war effort.’
‘I can hide it,’ says Anumaris. ‘Make it look like it was for investigating.’
Anumaris Thunderbolt is not so bad I suppose. Surprisingly helpful at times. I’m about to thank her when I feel a hearty clap on my back, strong enough to send me forward a few inches.
‘What’s this I hear about you fighting a dragon?’ cries Sareepa, laughing.
‘Had to hold it off till Lisutaris got there.’
‘What were you doing in the trench?’
‘Encouraging Makri. She was sure her calculations would fail but I had faith in her. About this beer?’
Sareepa indicates the bag she’s carrying. �
�You’re slipping, Thraxas. Time was you’d have hunted out your own beer.’
‘People are better at hiding it these days. They know I’m coming. It’s almost as if people have been spreading rumours.’
Daylight is beginning to fade. It’s on my mind that I should be doing something about Makri. If she’s really been taking dwa it’s a serious matter. She needs a clear mind for her calculations. One mistake and she could kill us all. I shrug, mentally. She’s probably going to kill us all anyway. Might as well be full of beer when it happens. If the Orcs start flooding through our encampment I’d as soon be intoxicated. So I forget about Makri and welcome Sareepa Lighting Strikes the Mountain into the wagon, with her bag of clinking beer bottles.
‘You never have explained to me, Sareepa, how you went from the worst-behaved, unruliest, youngster at sorcery school to Head of the Sorcerers Guild in Mattesh? What happened? Was it a sudden conversion or did you just get fed up using your sorcery to steal klee from your professor’s secret cabinet?’
Sareepa laughs. ‘I never stopped stealing klee from his cabinet. Four years of study and he never knew it was me. But some other things changed. Not all of them good.’ She pops the top off one of her bottles. I hold out the strong leather tankard I’ve been using during the campaign. Sareepa fills it up. I like Sareepa. I like anyone who brings me beer. ‘I’m sorry I almost poisoned you to death at the Sorcerer’s Assemblage. I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Forget it,’ says Sareepa. It turned out well enough in the end.’
Chapter Twenty One
I wake up next morning on the floor, half covered by a blanket, in a wagon that smells of beer. Beside me, also partially covered by the blanket, is Sareepa. Is that the second time we’ve spent the night together, or the third? I can’t quite remember.
‘Captain Thraxas, are you in there?’ It’s Droo, shouting from outside the wagon. ‘Makri’s here and Commander Lisutaris wants to see you.’ For a small Elf she has a loud voice. With the lack of tact I’ve come to expect, she sticks her head through the curtain. The young Elf sees Sareepa, grins, and withdraws from the wagon. ‘Hey Makri? Do you really need Thraxas right now? Can it wait?’
‘Why?’
‘He’s in there with Sareepa. Looks like there was a lot of beer involved. Maybe should leave them for a while.’
Makri’s reply sounds cold. ‘Our Commander requires his presence immediately.’
‘OK.’ Droo attempts to stick her head back into the wagon but by this time I’m in position to repel her, shoving her back through the curtain. ‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ I grunt, and start getting dressed, which is difficult in the confined space, particularly as my clothes appear to be strewn around in a random manner, mostly under beer bottles. As I’m strapping on my sword, Sareepa opens her eyes.
‘Morning,’ she says.
‘I’ve been summoned by our Commander.’
‘Fine,’ says Sareepa. She closes her eyes and goes back to sleep. The Matteshan sorcerers never seem to be involved in early morning activities. I envy them. Outside, Makri is waiting for me in her light Orcish armour. Like everything else in camp it’s dusty and travel-worn, though she maintains it well enough. Better than I treat my own gear, probably.
‘Lisutaris needs to see me? Why so early?’
‘War does not wait on your convenience.’ Makri doesn’t seem in the greatest of moods. She’s not really a morning person either. I follow her though the camp towards the command tent. As we approach, one of our Commander’s young messengers races past us and enters the tent. By the time we reach there he’s on his way out again, busy and enthusiastic as these messengers always are.
Makri turns to me. ‘You stink of beer.’
We enter Lisutaris’s command tent. Lisutaris sniffs the air. ‘Captain Thraxas. You stink of beer.’
‘So I’ve been informed. The early summons caught me by surprise.’
‘Early summons or not, I’ve instructed you not to drink.’
‘I believe the instruction was to drink less. Which I’ve been doing, thanks to the outrageous beer shortage.’
‘Thraxas, if I didn’t have so much on my plate at this moment I’d be down on you like a bad spell. I’ve already had two messages this morning, one from Legate Denpir and one from Bishop-General Ritari, and I didn’t like the tone of either of them. Both are demanding an immediate answer to who killed Captain Istaros. Can we provide that?’
‘Not yet. The evidence is pointing towards Archbishop Gudurius. Not him personally, but I think he was behind it.’
Lisutaris raises her eyebrows. ‘Interesting. Tell me more.’
‘Istaros got in a fight with the Archbishop’s men in Elath. Killed one of his favourites. Now Istaros and the other members of the unit he was with are being killed off.’
Lisutaris becomes slightly less displeased. ‘If Archbishop Gudurius is behind the murder of the King’s nephew, that’s good for us. Did Hanama inform you of his desire to attack Turai?’
‘She did.’
‘Anything that would make him fall out of favour with the King would be a help.’ Lisutaris lights a thazis stick. ‘This may all work out well after all. Can you find evidence against him?’
‘Possibly. But the King of Nioj isn’t going to prosecute his archbishop just because a Turanian investigator says he’s guilty.’
‘A prosecution won’t be necessary. If we had evidence, I have enough diplomatic influence to make sure Archbishop Gudurius and Legate Denpir fall out of favour. Keep investigating.’
‘Yes, Commander.’
Lisutaris finishes her thazis stick and lights another. Whatever efforts she may have made to cut down on the substance have fallen by the wayside. Her addiction is as bad as ever. ‘Makri informs me that her new Elvish mathematician is a considerable help. Quick to learn, apparently. They might get us to the walls after all.’ Lisutaris frowns, very deeply. ‘When we do take the city back, I’m damned if I’ll lose it to the Niojans. Keep me informed of progress, Captain Thraxas. Whatever happens, don’t implicate Bishop-General Ritari in anything bad.’
‘Yes, Commander.’
I leave Lisutaris’s command tent and walk through the camp. I’m fed up walking through this camp. I’ve done a lot of it, to little effect. I frequently walked around Turai, investigating, but the city was full of taverns where a man could drink beer and ease his troubles. Here there are no taverns and precious little beer. A feeling of gloom envelops me as I realise how long it is since I’ve been in a decent tavern. Not since we left Samsarina, and it’s not like their taverns were so great. Nothing like the Avenging Axe where I could rely on a hearty meal cooked by Tanrose every day, and one of Gurd’s happy guildsman extra-large sized flagons of ale in front of a roaring fire with genial company, and Makri behind the bar, insulting customers and raking in the tips in her chainmail bikini. I wonder if those days will ever return? I have my doubts. Who knows if the Avenging Axe even exists any more? The city is full of Orcs. If they learned that the Avenging Axe was home to Thraxas, feared warrior and implacable defender of Turai, they’ll have destroyed it out of spite. Damn those Orcs. My mood worsens. I’ve come to talk to Bishop-General Ritari but I have to wait outside his command tent while he confers with his officers. By the time I’m allowed access I’ve abandoned all thoughts of diplomacy.
‘Bishop-General, I’d like some answers. Your secret defence unit - was Captain Istaros a member? Why was he in Elath and were there other members of your defence unit with him?’
Ritari is surprised by my questions but he’s too experienced to panic in the face of hostile interrogation. He takes some moments to compose himself before answering. ‘Captain Istaros was a member of that unit.’
‘And Captain Taijenius? Who unfortunately committed suicide. Though his brother doesn’t believe that and I don’t think I do either.’
‘The investigation seemed clear.’
‘The investigation was
worthless. He could have been murdered and it could have been covered up with sorcery. Wouldn’t even need sorcery if the investigation was bad enough.’
The Bishop-General doesn’t seem surprised by this. ‘I know. I half suspected it myself. There was no proof.’
‘What were they doing in Elath?’
‘Captain Istaros was buying land.’
‘Did he need your defence unit to help him?’
‘They weren’t there on official duties, Captain Thraxas. More as companions. The swordfighting tournament was taking place, many people are keen to visit Elath to see it.’
‘True. But I’m finding it strange that your entire defence unit appeared in Elath at the same time.’
‘They were companions, there to watch the tournament while Istaros made his land purchase. I don’t see anything strange about that.’
‘They got into a fight and a man was killed. That was strange.’
The Bishop-General takes this calmly. ‘Yes. A regrettable incident. But these things will happen, I suppose, when young men gather in numbers at a swordfighting tournament. Excitement gets out of hand, a few harsh words can lead to trouble…’
‘You’re making it sound all very innocent. The fact is, they killed one of Archbishop Gudurius’s men and then fled Samsarina. That was more than a little quarrel. Care to tell me what it was about?’
‘I never learned the nature of the argument. I regretted it of course, and sent my condolences to the Archbishop.’
‘How did he take that?’
‘Very civilly.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Really? So you don’t think he’s out for revenge?’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Your dead employees. Istaros and Taijenius.’
Ritari is derisive. ‘Are you inferring the Archbishop is behind their deaths? Hardly likely. Nioj’s senior cleric does not go around assassinating people, whatever may happen in other nations. Captain Thraxas, I’ve given you a lot of my time. I really must bring this to an end now.’
Before he throws me out, I manage one more question. ‘How many other members of this defence unit are there?’
