by Martin Scott
«He carried out the original investigation into the death I'm looking into for the Baroness.»
«I should be able to arrange it. I'll talk to him.»
When Lisutaris has finished her thazis, I open the door. Somehow it's no surprise to find Kublinos outside, glaring at me suspiciously. Lisutaris walks by him without a word. I try to do likewise but the Sorcerer grabs me by the arm.
«I'm warning you, Turanian,» he hisses. «I'm not going to stand idly by while you try to take advantage of a fine woman like Lisutaris.»
I glare back at him. «Let go of my arm or I'll kill you.»
Kublinos, surprised, lets go. I turn round and walk off, angry at the foolishness of everyone. By now, tournament officials are pinning hastily-prepared signs to the public noticeboards, laying out the schedule for the remainder of the day. Makri, being in the final qualifying group, will only have one fight this evening, and will have to complete her group tomorrow. It's a minor inconvenience, nothing more. Makri appears completely relaxed as she departs with Lisutaris to change into her armour. General Hemistos, Baron Girimos and several others are still around. When I see Baron Mabados approaching I withdraw into the crowd, not feeling like dealing with another unfriendly Samsarinan at this moment.
Chapter Fifteen
Makri's visor covers her face. Tournament rules state that all entrants must be fully armoured. As well as the helmet, Makri is wearing a metal gorget to protect her neck, and a thick steel breastplate. Her leggings are covered in chainmail, with steel plates hanging over her thighs, and there are more metal plates on her upper arms and forearms. It's all much heavier than the armour Makri would normally wear. I hope she's adapted to it. I'm not sure how often she's worn it for practice.
I make my way to her side and escort her into the tournament field. The field is roughly circular, with banks of wooden seats set up for spectators, making it into a temporary arena. There's a good crowd. While excitement during the early rounds is not exactly fevered, everyone is eager to see if there might be any new talents coming through. In the centre of the field, the presiding Marshal, in his distinctive red costume, checks her equipment. He studies the edge of her sword, making sure it's properly blunted, then examines her shield, checking that the rim hasn't been illegally sharpened. He glances at her armour. The Marshal is meant to ensure that no one's armour is deficient in any way, but in truth his examination is quite perfunctory. While the organisers do make a public display of protecting fighters' safety, the general feeling is that you enter at your own peril. If your helmet is so poorly made that it shatters under the impact of a sword, that's your problem.
The Marshal checks Makri's opponent. I couldn't find out much about him, other than his name is Parasas, and he's from Nioj, which is unusual. Niojans don't go in for tournament fighting, as a rule. He stares at Makri. Makri stares back at him. His manager stares at me. I stare back at his manager. The Marshal waves us back and we retreat, leaving our fighters behind us. Lisutaris is waiting for me at the edge of the field. Behind her are several Barons, two ambassadors, some Sorcerers, and General Hemistos, all here to see how Makri performs.
On the northern edge of the field there's a small wooden tower, another temporary construction. Sitting at the top is Markinos Moonstone, tournament Sorcerer. It's his responsibility to ensure that no one cheats by using magic. It's not unknown for Sorcerers to influence fights by boosting a combatant's abilities, particularly if there's a lot of gambling involved. A competent tournament Sorcerer should be able to detect and prevent this. I've no idea how competent Markinos is. Lisutaris thinks he's probably honest, though she has little regard for his abilities.
There are few formalities. The Marshal has a staff with a small yellow pennant. He raises it, then brings it down, starting the fight. Makri and Parasas approach each other. Each has their sword in their right hand and a small, round shield in their left. I don't like the way Makri carries her shield. It looks too casual. Parasas lunges in first. Makri easily blocks his blow, and counters immediately. I'm half-expecting her to land a lethal stoke, such is her speed, but Parasas blocks in turn. He's fast. Quite talented as well I'd say, from the way he next attacks. Makri blocks his sword but he hits her with his shield. Makri is knocked backwards. She thrusts with her sword but it passes over Parasas shoulder. He advances very quickly. To my surprise, Makri loses her footing, something she would never normally do. Parasas swings a blow at her neck, which connects, making a loud clanging noise. Fighters are not meant to deal mortal blows, but no one holds back much, and it's a powerful strike. The crowd roars. Makri stumbles backwards. The Marshal leaps in-between the fighters, raising his staff.
«Lethal Stroke!» he cries. The fight is over. Makri has lost.
I set off at a run, worried in case the blow has wounded Makri. By the time I reach the centre of the field, Makri is on her feet, shouting at the Marshal.
«What do you mean I lost? I didn't lose! You didn't count my blow to his neck!»
«You didn't hit his neck,» says the Marshal.
«I did! You're just too slow to see it.»
«You missed!»
«I didn't miss! And something made me lose my footing! I've been cheated!»
Makri is furious. I know there's no point arguing. The Marshal isn't going to change his mind. Even if she did get in a strike which the Marshal didn't see, she still suffered a knockdown, and a very obvious hit to the neck. It was a poor performance. As I escort Makri from the field, she's still complaining furiously.
«Something grabbed my ankle! Someone must have used a spell against me.»
I didn't feel any sorcery in the arena. Neither did Markinos Moonstone, or he'd have called it. We come to a halt beside Lisutaris. The Sorceress is very pale, probably imagining the financial catastrophe that threatens to engulf her.
«Are you all right?» she asks.
«Yes. I'm sorry I lost.»
«Bad luck,» says General Hemistos. Behind the General, Baron Mabados, Lasat, Charius and several others are making no attempt to hide their amusement. Lisutaris's much-vaunted bodyguard, claimed by the Sorceress to be a champion gladiator, has lost her first fight to an unknown outsider. Makri is seething with fury and humiliation. «The next fight will be different,» she says.
Makri walks off. Lisutaris and I follow her. We walk as quickly as we can back to Lisutaris's carriage. I ask Lisutaris if she sensed any sorcery in the arena. She shakes her head. The three of us clamber into the two-person carriage. I take the reins. As we ride off, I can feel my own anger rising. I've lost my bet on Makri winning her fight, and we have no money in reserve. I knew she didn't prepare properly. I decide to give her a piece of my mind.
«Well that was a waste of time,» I say, by way of getting started. «You»
I don't make it any further. Makri bursts into tears. It's a shocking sight, both for myself and Lisutaris. We ride home in silence, save for Makri's sobs, which go on for a long time. I try and think of something comforting to say, but nothing comes. Makri, champion gladiator of the Orcish lands, undefeated in combat since she appeared in the West, has just lost her first fight in a tournament, and nothing I say is going to make that better.
Chapter Sixteen
I don't have much time to dwell on our misfortune because I've arranged to visit Baroness Demelzos's residence to give her an update. That's not to say I'm not thinking some depressing thoughts as I walk through the town. Makri's unexpected defeat has destroyed my betting strategy. I still have my wager on her winning the tournament, but I've no money to bet on each individual match. Makri has to fight four more times. I'm still confident she can beat her next opponents, but it's going to leave a sour taste in my mouth if I can't get a bet down.
As for Arichdamis's missing plans, that's another problem we haven't even begun to deal with. Lisutaris firmly believes that Lasat took them and intends to use them to embarrass her. She's probably right, but we can't decide what to do about it. We can't openly accuse him of
theft. I'd consider burgling his mansion and searching for them, but a powerful Sorcerer like Lasat has plenty of defensive spells to deter burglars.
A female servant opens the door and leads me to the Baroness. Demelzos is suitably attired for receiving visitors, which means she's wearing a robe and jewellery that cost more than my yearly income. She rises to greet me.
«You're late.»
«I was busy at the tournament.»
She doesn't ask me how it went, which is a relief.
«My family has an invitation to dine with Baron Vosanos tomorrow,» she tells me.
I look at her blankly.
«My daughter refuses to attend. It's a serious embarrassment. Have you cleared things up?»
«That depends on what you mean by cleared things up.»
«Can you convince Merlione that her friend wasn't murdered? And that she has no reason to worry?»
«Is that what you're expecting?»
«It's what I'm hoping for,» says the Baroness.
I notice a tempting bottle of wine on the table. The Baroness hasn't offered me any. Perhaps that's beneath her.
«I think it's quite possible that Alceten was murdered. That might mean your daughter does have reason to worry.»
Demelzos looks aghast. «Surely you're not serious?»
«I talked to people at the Royal Record House and I'm not convinced they're telling the truth. I think they've been got at, to keep quiet. Persuaded, or bribed.»
«Do you have proof of that?»
«No.»
«Any sort of evidence?»
«No.»
«So I'm to allow my family to descend into chaos because you have some vague suspicion?»
I shrug. «You don't have to allow anything. It's up to you. But you asked me to find out if there was any truth in Merlione's suspicions, and I think there might be.»
Demelzos sits down, very troubled. «What can I possibly tell my husband?»
«I take it he doesn't know you hired me?»
«No. And he's not going to be pleased to learn.» The Baroness shakes her head. «Thraxas, are you really sure about this? If Merlione's in danger, then I have to protect her, but it's going to cause an awful lot of trouble.»
«I think there was something suspicious about Alceten's death. Whether that means Merlione's in danger too, I can't say for sure. It might have nothing to do with your daughter. She might just have arrived there at the wrong time. But your daughter did think the carriage was trying to run her down as well, so I'd say you should take the threat seriously.»
Demelzos reaches out, picks up the bottle, and fills two silver goblets with wine. She passes one to me. «What do I do now?»
«Keep Merlione safe and out of sight while I do some more investigating.»
«What if you can't find out anything?»
«I will,» I say, and finish my wine quickly. «I'll need to talk to Alceten's father. I understand he's an important official.»
«Cetenos? He is fairly important, I suppose.»
«Would you give me a letter of introduction? It will make my life easier.»
The Baroness hesitates. «If I do that, everyone will soon know I've hired you to investigate.»
«Is that a problem?»
«The King's Chief Steward already made enquiries. Me hiring you is like telling everyone I don't trust him.»
«He's going to know that soon enough anyway, because I'll be talking to him too.»
The Baroness's brow creases with worry.
«I could get by without the letter of introduction.»
Baroness Demelzos thinks for a moment. «I'm not having my daughter's life put in danger for fear of a scandal.» She claps her hands and a servant hurries into the room. «Bring writing materials,» she says. «And my official seal.»
Returning to Arichdamis's house with Demelzos's letter of introduction in my pocket, I pass the Jolly Bandit, an attractive-looking tavern with light and music spilling from the shutters. Minstrels are playing a lusty drinking song. I can hear the crowd banging their tankards as they join in with the chorus. I sigh. There's nothing I'd like better than to join in with a drinking song, and get a few ales inside me. Unfortunately, I don't have a guran to my name. I shake my head at the injustice of it, and carry on slowly up the road. I'm in no hurry to get home. Arichdamis has been miserable since his plans went missing, and Lisutaris is no better. I hope Makri has stopped crying.
«Damn it,» I say out loud. «Not crying was one of her only good points. What am I meant to say to her now?»
Makri knows I can't cope with women crying. We've discussed it. It wouldn't surprise me if Lisutaris has joined in. She's been as miserable as a Niojan whore all day. I'm slightly heartened by the thought of Arichdamis's cellars. They've been severely depleted since I moved in, but I can probably find a pie or two down there, and a bottle of Elvish wine. With luck, I can sneak them off to my room without encountering anyone.
«Maybe it won't be so bad,» I mutter, fumbling with my key in the unfamiliar lock. «Maybe they've pulled themselves together.»
I enter the house and practically trip over Lisutaris, who's lying on the floor. Obviously she hasn't pulled herself together. At least she doesn't seem to be crying. The hallway is enveloped in the sort of thick haze that can only be produced by the most determined of thazis smokers.
«Ah, Thraxas. My Chief Adviser. A Chief Adviser who's full of good advice. Whatever Thraxas advises, you'd best do it. He is my Chief Adviser, after all.»
«Is something wrong?»
Lisutaris drags herself into a sitting position. «I'm being mocked on all sides and I'm about to become the poorest woman in the West. Apart from that, everything's fine.»
«Makri can recover. She's not out of the tournament yet.»
Lisutaris shakes her head. «Help me up.»
I take hold of Lisutaris by her shoulders and drag her to her feet, then help her along to the main guest room where she collapses on a couch.
«You know, smoking all this thazis isn't helping,» I say.
«I'm the Head of the Sorcerers Guild. I'll smoke whatever I want.»
«Where's Makri?»
«In the gardens, breaking things with her axe.»
Lisutaris yawns, then closes her eyes. I gaze at her, wondering if it's really such a great idea to have this woman lead our armies against the Orcs. Lasat might be a fool but at least he’s conscious most of the time. Actually, he probably isn’t, not with his dwa habit. Damn these Sorcerers. Can’t they stay sober for five minutes?
I take my illuminated staff out into the gardens. A familiar smells fills my nostrils. I frown, and follow the aroma till I find Makri, prostrate on the grass. The dragon is curled up beside her, sleeping. On the ground beside Makri there's a cheap tin box with a hole on top, blackened by flames. It's the sort of device you use to burn and inhale dwa. I'm appalled at the discovery. I've no idea where she might have procured the drug. It's unbelievably foolish behaviour. Apart from the inherent dangers, it would probably mean execution if the authorities learned of it. If the King doesn't like thazis, that's nothing to what he thinks about the much more powerful dwa.
I bend down and pick Makri up. The dragon stirs, but doesn't waken. I take her indoors and along to the guest room where I lay her on another couch, next to Lisutaris.
«This is all going to end badly,» I mutter.
The nights aren't yet warm. I take the thick, embroidered cloth that hangs on the back of each couch and cover both of the slumbering figures. Still carrying my illuminated staff, I head down to the cellars. A brief examination reveals a side of roast beef, a half-round of goat's cheese, and a cask of ale.
«I'm surrounded by fools,» I say, as I open the cask. «Dragging me down, as always.» I get busy on the beef, the cheese, and the ale, meanwhile cursing my misfortune at being saddled with such useless companions.
Chapter Seventeen
I wake with a neck-ache from sleeping on the hard stone floor. I soon disco
ver I have a headache too. As I drag myself upright to negotiate my way out of the gloomy cellar, I clatter into some empty wine bottles. I don't remember drinking wine. Must have seemed like a good idea after the beer. My head is pounding. Even a champion drinker such as myself can suffer the occasional mild hangover from mixing ale and Elvish wine, and I seem to have made a reasonable attempt at emptying Arichdamis's cellars. I need a Lesada leaf. The Elvish plant is highly effective against hangovers. I realise I have a raging thirst. I stumble my way up the rest of the stairs and barge into the kitchen. There's a young cook, busy at the range. Ignoring his protests, I commandeer the bucket of fresh water by his side, drinking freely then ducking my head in the remainder.
I remember last night's events and realise I'm still angry at Lisutaris and Makri. What a pair. Completely incapable of coping with problems without resorting to intoxication. I find them both still lying on their couches in the guest room.
«There you are!» I cry. «What have you got to say for yourselves?»
Lisutaris yawns as she wakens. «What are you talking about?»
«You're completely out of control, Lisutaris. The slightest setback and you immediately» I pause. Suddenly my headache seems a lot worse. I feel nauseous. I sit down very heavily on a vacant couch.
«Having problems?» says Lisutaris.
«Do you have any lesada leaves?»
Lisutaris starts to laugh, but it turns into a fit of coughing.
«Hypocrite,» she gasps, when the coughing subsides. «You've been emptying the cellars again.»
«There's nothing wrong with a bit of ale. Have you got a lesada leaf or not? My head is killing me.»
«At least thazis doesn't give you hangovers,» says Lisutaris, smugly. She raises herself on one elbow. Her face takes on a greenish-tinge, and she lies back down. «I don't feel very well.»
Makri chooses this moment to wake up. As soon as she does she vomits over the side of the couch.
«Now I'm feeling worse,» moans Lisutaris. «What's wrong with Makri?»
