Thraxas and the Ice Dragon t-9

by Martin Scott

  «Serves a good ale,» I tell him. «And not a bad beef pie.»

  «Excellent!» cries the Baron, and heads straight in. The Jolly Bandit might not be frequented by the highest class of customer, but Baron Girimos isn't going to let that stand in his way. At this time in the morning, the tavern is empty save for a woman wiping tables, and a man rolling a barrel of beer into position behind the bar.

  «We need food and drink immediately!» cries the Baron.

  «I'm sorry, we haven't opened»-

  The Baron takes out a purse and slams some gold coins onto the counter. «Two tankards of your famous ale, and as many beef pies as you can fit onto a plate,» says the Baron. «And I mean a large plate. Just pile them on a tray if you don't have one big enough.»

  The man behind the bar, scoops up the gold. «Right away,» he says, and begins shouting orders to some unseen figures in the kitchens beyond. I like this Baron a lot more than anyone else I've met in Samsarina. We take a table by a window, a solid piece of furniture designed to carry food and drink for the hungry man, and when the pies start arriving, we get to work. Baron Girimos downs his flagon of ale in one long gulp.

  «I hope you're not one of these people who thinks you shouldn't drink in the morning?» he says.

  «I've never seen any reason not to.»

  «That's what I told my daughter only yesterday!» cries the Baron. «But she wouldn't listen. Waiter, more ale. Have you any cold pheasant in the larder? No? Duck? That'll do fine. Send it along.»

  By this time, several waitresses are scurrying around, pressed into action by the unexpected arrival of a wealthy Baron. Bowls of steaming vegetables appear, along with bread, cheese and cold duck, Girimos having issued instructions to just bring everything as soon as it's ready.

  «Haven't eaten properly for a week,» he exclaims, tucking into a hefty portion. «Damned relatives all over the place.»

  I finish a second tankard of ale, take a temporary diversion through a bowl of buttered yams, and then get back to the beef pies.

  «That's not a bad pie,» says the Baron. «Plenty of beef. Satisfying. Not like these silly little things my wife gets from her fancy chef. Reminds me of the pies the quartermaster used to have when we were campaigning in Grykur. Man needs a good bit of food when there's dragons pouring out of the sky. Ever been in Grykur?»

  «I was there in the war,» I say. «Led my phalanx all the way over the Dragon-bone hills.»

  «I was in the Dragon-bone hills too!» says the Baron, enthusiastically. «I was a young officer. Not many Orcs could stand up to my cavalry battalion, I can tell you. But it was tough. I remember we were outnumbered four to one going up Blackwing Rise, and the order came in to retreat. 'What's that?' I said. 'Retreat? The Ninth Battalion of the Samsarinan Cavalry does not retreat!' I told the bugler to blow the advance — waitress, where's our ale? We're thirsty over here!»

  A waitress rushes over with two more large tankards. She departs smiling, thanks to the Baron's generous tip. «Keep the ale coming,» he calls after her. «Where was I? Ah yes, the bugler. I told him to sound the advance, and right that moment he took an arrow in the throat. Fell off his horse stone dead. So I picked up the bugle myself and sounded the charge. You should have seen us going up that hill! The Orcs fled when they saw us coming.»

  «I was on Blackwing Rise too!» I say. «On the south side, with the infantry.» I pick up the salt and pepper pots, and start manoeuvring them round the table, to illustrate our troop positions. «As I was leading the phalanx up the slope, the Fourth Orcish Regiment suddenly came over the hill, with a dragon behind them!» I pick up a small tumbler, to represent the Orcish forces, and start advancing the pepper pot.

  «I was here, with the cavalry,» says the Baron, picking up a spoon and placing it beside a fork which represents a group of Western Sorcerers.

  «Not that the Sorcerers were much help,» says the Baron.

  «They never are! All the hard work gets left to the soldiers.» I notice my tankard is empty and there seems to be a lack of pies on the table. I open my mouth to roar for more but the kitchen is now fully operational and waitresses are already heading our way. As the morning progresses, the table submerges under a mass of condiments and cutlery, as the Baron and I re-create the campaign in the Dragon-Bone Hills in Grykur, of which the battle of Blackwing Rise was but one of many stirring events, albeit one in which the heroic performance of my phalanx was noted far and wide. At some point in the proceedings the Baron is on his feet with a long loaf of bread in his hands, illustrating the best way to cut down an opponent on horseback, while I pick up a tray and use it as a shield, demonstrating the way I led my men against the elite troops of the Fourth Orcish Regiment. By now it's approaching lunchtime and the tavern has a few more customers, though we're not paying much attention to them.

  «What say we open a bottle of klee?» suggests the Baron. «Wash down some of this food before examining the desserts?»

  That sounds like an excellent idea. It's a long time since I've had a glass of klee, the strong, fiery spirit distilled all over the West. Quality can vary widely, but the proprietor of the Jolly Bandit brings us a bottle brewed by monks in the hills, and it's not bad at all.

  «Good klee!» says the Baron, banging his glass on the table. «Reminds me of a drop I had to drink right after we rode from Blackwing Rise to Sundread Valley. Were you in the valley?»

  «Led my phalanx right through it.»

  «Splendid!» cries the Baron. «Of course, we had to do a lot of fighting to let the infantry through.» «The Orcs were here» — «The Baron picks up the salt cellar,» — and we were here. And just as we were about to charge, damned if the biggest dragon you ever saw didn't come right down the valley with fire coming out of its mouth and a Sorcerer on board, blasting spells in every direction!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I waken up in surprisingly good health, given my recent excesses. No sign of a hangover at all. Plenty of food, that's the secret. Mop up the excess beer with a goodly selection of pies and there's no problem. I look around me. I'm in my guest room at Arichdamis's. I cant remember how I got here. Must have walked, I suppose, after leaving the Jolly Bandit. What time is it? It's bright and sunny outside. Early afternoon, I'd say. Still time to make it up to the tournament field for Makri's fight. I've missed out on the investigating I planned for this morning, but I can visit Baroness Demelzos later.

  I haul myself upright and sit on the edge of the bed. I notice my clothes are damp. That's odd. Perhaps I spilled some water over myself while demonstrating my assault on the Orcish fort in Sundread valley. I do remember using a water pitcher for a mace at one point. Now feeling thirsty, I look around for my own water pitcher, but it's empty. I head for the kitchen. I'm filling up a large pewter beaker when Makri appears.

  «Hi Makri.»

  «Never speak to me again in any circumstances,» says Makri.

  «What's the matter?»

  «I said never speak to me again.» Makri glares at me with loathing, and storms out of the kitchen. It's puzzling. But Makri's moods are often erratic. I can't see that I've done anything to upset her. Maybe she's still annoyed at Lasat's plans to cage the young dragon. I look down at my tunic, which is still quite damp. I notice it's also in need of repair. The neck is looking distinctly ragged. Probably I should do something about it, if only to not cause Lisutaris embarrassment. At that moment Lisutaris appears. I greet her amiably. She glares at me. I begin to wonder if I might have caused offence in some way.

  «Is there anything wrong?»

  «Anything wrong? Don't you know?»

  «Nothing springs to mind…»

  «You missed Makri's fight, for one thing!» says Lisutaris, loudly.

  I can make no sense of this. «What do you mean? She's not fighting till late afternoon.»

  «That was yesterday!»

  «No it wasn't, it's today.»

  «It was yesterday! You got drunk with Baron Girimos and went on a gigantic spree all thr
ough Elath, which ended up with the pair of you being thrown out of the King's Bathing House for creating a disturbance and frightening young bathers.»

  I stare at the Sorcerer. This all seems very unlikely. «I don't remember anything like that.»

  «I'm not surprised! You and the Baron called in at every tavern between the Jolly Bandit and the Bathing Houses, drinking klee and terrorising the barmaids. Eventually you ended up in the King's private hot pool, trying to re-enact some naval engagement. The whole episode is now the talk of Elath. The King is not pleased. And my status has now sunk to zero.»

  «Are you quite sure about all this?»

  «I was the one who bailed you out of the guardhouse. It took four men to lift you into my carriage.»

  «Oh.»

  There's an uncomfortable silence.

  «So I missed Makri's fight?»

  «You did.»

  «What happened?»

  «She won, no thanks to you. You weren't there to lead her into the arena. She had to ask General Hemistos, something she'd much rather not have done. What were you thinking about, spending the day getting roaringly drunk when you were meant to be attending to Makri? You knew how important that fight was to her. She was fighting Parasas, who beat her before.»

  I spread my hands wide. «I didn't plan it, it just happened. I left the house early to do some investigating and I ran into the Baron. Girimos has a very healthy thirst.»

  «So you couldn't even control yourself for a few hours?»

  While it's uncomfortable having the Head of the Sorcerers Guild so angry at me, I'm not about to give in without a fight. «You can't blame me,» I inform her, quite forcibly. «There are extenuating circumstances. Look at what I've had to put up with since we got here. Nothing but you and Makri talking about your romantic problems. If it's not Kublinos doing something you don't like, it's Makri complaining about General Hemistos. Just a constant barrage of things I don't want to hear about. It's no surprise I needed a day off with a good drinking companion.»

  Lisutaris shakes her head. «Thraxas, I can understand your need to make an utter pig of yourself occasionally, but could you not have waited? It was bad to miss Makri's fight. She's absolutely furious. So am I. Have you forgotten you were meant to be helping me repel hostile sorcery?»

  «Was there any hostile sorcery?»

  «I don't think so. I didn't detect any. Makri had a hard time though, it was a tough fight. Parasas dealt her some painful blows before she beat him.»

  «I'll make it up to her.»

  «I wouldn't bet on it. And talking of betting, I had to place our bet with Big Bixo. Yes, Thraxas, thanks to you, I have now suffered the unmatched humiliation of walking into a bookmaker's shop and placing a wager, something no Head of the Sorcerers Guild has ever done before, not even Julia the Bad, and she did most things. Word of this has also spread all round Elath, further destroying my reputation. I'm now the Sorcerer who's addicted to gambling and employs Turai's biggest drunkard as my Adviser.»

  «Was I really arrested?»

  «Yes. But they didn't take you to jail, because you were with the Baron. They just threw the two of you in the guardhouse and sent a messenger to me to pick you up.»

  I'm sure Lisutaris is exaggerating the whole thing. «If I was really as drunk as you claim, why am I feeling so healthy now?»

  «Because I used a Sleep and Regenerate spell on you. Partly because I was worried you'd actually die from klee-poisoning, and partly to stop you singing obscene drinking songs.»

  Lisutaris fishes in her magic purse, and finally brings out my spell protection necklace. «Here, this belongs to you. I removed it before I used the spell.» Lisutaris digs around some more in her purse while I fasten the charm around my neck.

  «So what happened when you went to put the bet on?» I ask.

  Lisutaris shudders at the memory. «There was some adverse comment. Not to my face, of course, but I could hear people whispering. When I reached the front of the queue, I wasn't even sure how to place the bet properly. It was all very embarrassing.»

  «What odds did you get?»

  Lisutaris tells me that both fighters were listed at five to six. «Was that reasonable? Or was Bixo cheating me?»

  «It's all right, it's about what I'd have expected.»

  «Good. I wagered 5,000. I might have put on more, but Bixo said that was the most he would take. Is that fair?»

  I nod. «Bookmakers are like that. When you start winning they're suddenly not so keen to take your bets. They put a limit on.»

  Lisutaris's 5000 guran bet has won us 4,167, making 9,167. With the 2,875 she kept back, we now have 12,042 gurans.

  «I've never been so successful at gambling before,» says Lisutaris.

  «At least something's going well. So now Makri's in the semi-final. When is it?»

  «This afternoon,» Lisutaris tells me. «And it's going to be difficult.»

  «Of course. Anyone who's made it this far will be a tough opponent.»

  «I don't just mean that. I've been wondering why Lasat hasn't been using more sorcery against Makri. I put some pressure on one of the junior Sorcerers here and he told me Lasat's been holding off, hoping Makri would lose in a fair fight. But she hasn't, so now he's going to make sure she doesn't get past the semi-final. We can expect a full scale assault, while the Tournament Sorcerer looks the other way. You'd better be prepared to deflect incoming spells.»

  «Isn't there some other way of dealing with this?» I say. «The King wouldn't be pleased to know the tournament's being magically disrupted. It's meant to be fair.»

  «I don't see what I can do about that. I can't go telling tales to the King. It'll look like I'm scared of Lasat.»

  We leave the kitchen. Makri is waiting in the corridor, standing in front of a marble bust of Saint Quatinius. It's hard to say which one looks angriest.

  «Makri, I'm sorry I» —

  «Lisutaris, we'll have to leave for the fight a few minutes early. General Hemistos is meeting us at the bookmaker's. He'll put our bet on for us, and lead me into the arena. If you happen to see that fat, drunken oaf, Thraxas, and he's sober enough to talk — which is unlikely — tell him not to bother showing up. I don't want my reputation sullied.»

  Makri departs. Lisutaris looks at me. «Makri's as angry as a troll with a toothache. You'd better do something about it.»

  «Don't you think it's going a bit far, accusing me of sullying her reputation? Orcish gladiators don't have reputations to sully.»

  «I don't know about that,» says Lisutaris. «Makri's gaining quite a following. She fights well. She behaves properly when there are Barons around, out of respect to me. She doesn't invade the King's Royal Bathing House, bellowing insults about the Samsarinan army.»

  «They never could fight. Don't worry about Makri, I know her weaknesses. I'll pacify her.»

  Later, on my way to visit Baroness Demelzos, I walk past the Jolly Bandit. I wouldn't mind a beer to set me up for the day, but decide I'd better not risk it. There's no knowing what might happen. At the Baroness's mansion, I have to wait quite a while before being led into her reception rooms. The Baroness greets me cooly.

  «I thought you were coming to visit me yesterday. I waited for several hours.»

  «Other matters intervened,» I explain. «Important new leads in the investigation.»

  «Really? I thought it might have had something to do with your all-day drinking session with Baron Girimos.»

  «You heard about that?»

  «Everyone's heard about it,» says the Baroness. «My Chief Steward was in the King's Bathing House when you stumbled in, brandishing a stick. His report was extremely graphic.»

  «Well, it was really Baron Girimos who was doing most of the» —

  «And my kitchen maid encountered you outside the Jolly Bandit. Was it you or the Baron who offered her fifty gurans for a night's whoring?»

  «It must have been the Baron. I don't have that sort of money.»

  «As
for my pastry-cook, she saw you» —

  «Is there any member of your household who didn't spend the entire day spying on me? Don't they have better things to do?»

  Baroness Demelzos suddenly laughs, quite heartily. «I was hoping you hadn't lost your touch, Thraxas. You always were entertaining, back in the old days.» The Baroness pours wine into a goblet from a silver decanter and passes it to me. I take a seat opposite her at the table. She asks me if I've made any progress.

  «Some. Can you tell me more about your finances?»

  «How do you mean?»

  «I've heard you're not doing so well.»

  The Baroness frowns. «That's not exactly polite. And not relevant, as far as I can see.»

  «I've been down all the relevant paths. They didn't lead anywhere. I'm broadening my enquiries.»

  Demelzos purses her lips. «It's true we've had some reverses. My husband did lose money in bad shipping transactions. Some of it was bad luck. Some of it was bad business. Does that satisfy you?»

  «Did you know Baron Vosanos is in difficulty too?»

  «I find that hard to believe. Vosanos is one of Samsarina's wealthiest men.»

  «Not any more, he isn't. He owes tax to the King. He's trying to keep it quiet but it's true.»

  «That's interesting,» says the Baroness. «But you said he was in difficulty too. That's inaccurate. My family might have lost money but we're not in difficulty. My husbands financial misfortunes haven't affected our queenstone mines. They still provide a good income. That's why we settled one of the mines on Orgodas for his wedding.»

  «What do you mean?»

  «Our son gets the mine as his wedding gift from us. Vosanos will settle something equally valuable on his daughter. Or perhaps not, if what you say is true.» The Baroness sips her wine, elegantly, like Lisutaris. «Why does this matter?»

  «I don't know.»

  «None of it seems to affect my daughter.»

  «Can she interfere with the wedding gift?»

  «Of course not. My husband owns all our property, under the law. He can transfer our mines to whoever he chooses. Orgodas will inherit it all eventually, anyway.»