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Chapter Nine

I spend the evening sitting in front of the fire downstairs in the tavern, sipping beer and working my way through an enormous venison pie. Salted venison rather than fresh, as it's winter, but Tanrose has a way of bringing it back to life. My mood improves. True, the rooms upstairs are full of sick people, and the pie isn't quite the same without a few yams to mash up in the gravy, but looking on the bright side, I'm feeling on firmer ground with regard to the missing Ocean Storm. Now I've cleared up the matter of the so-called mysterious disappearance of the ship's captain, at least I know where I stand. I've no idea who might have killed him after he slipped away quietly into his lover's arms, but when it comes to a murder in Twelve Seas, I can generally sort it out. Criminals round here are careless. They make mistakes. I find them out. Sometimes it takes a smart piece of thinking. Sometimes just the willingness to plod on till I find the solution. I generally get there in the end.

Gurd's tavern is full, but despite the raucous drinking contest going on between a group of northern mercenaries and a company of crossbowmen from the Turanian village of Geslax, most people's attention is drawn to Moolifi. The Avenging Axe has never before played host to such a famous entertainer. Captain Rallee pretends not to notice but I can tell he's as pleased as a pixie. He loves it that he can sit at a table with Moolifi and let people see the way she looks into his eyes. He's replaced his tired old black uniform with a smart new one, polished up his boots and trimmed his moustache. Drinkers pause as they lift their flagons to their lips and glance over at the couple, jealous that the Captain has made such a catch. Singers and dancers are very low down in Turai's social strata, but even so, a golden-haired beauty like Moolifi would normally be spending her time with a wealthy member of the Honourable Merchants Association, or maybe even a senator. Now Rallee's hooked up with her, even though he's only a poorly paid captain in the Civil Guard. It says something for his qualities as a man, or so he likes to think.

Some drinkers call over to the Captain, asking if his lady would like to give us a song. The Captain waves their requests away for a while, and starts to look annoyed when a few young mercenaries are too persistent in their attentions. Rallee starts to get angry but Moolifi ends any bad feelings by smiling at the mercenaries and calling over that she'll be pleased to sing. She rises to her feet, a confident woman who's used to entertaining an audience. As the tavern goes quiet,

Makri sits down heavily at my table, looking a little fatigued after her long evening shift.

"The men in Turai are fools," she says.

"We're in the middle of a war. Nothing wrong with a little entertainment."

Makri sneers. She lights a thazis stick, and keeps her back towards Moolifi, determined not to show any interest in her performance. She's the only one to do so. Voices are hushed and the drinking contest comes to a halt as Moolifi starts to sing. The hush doesn't last for long. As Moolifi launches into "Love Me Through the Winter," there are roars of appreciation. "Love Me Through the Winter" is her most popular song, and delivery boys and wagon drivers have been whistling it for months. It has a strong tune and by the time she's reached the first chorus tankards are starting to beat out time. As the song comes to an end the audience erupts with applause. Tankards, fists and sword pommels are banged on tables in thunderous approval.

"That was awful," says Makri. "What sort of idiot would enjoy that sort of thing? Thraxas, stop banging your tankard on the table."

"How could you not like it? She's a great performer."

I bang my tankard some more. Makri shakes her head in disgust and rises to her feet. She snatches my tankard off me and puts it on her tray.

"Bring me another beer!" I roar.

"Some time tomorrow," mutters Makri, and departs into the throng of drinkers with her tray, snatching tankards right and left.

Moolifi sings a few more songs for the customers. It's a memorable night. Worries about the war are banished, and people still grieving for the friends and relatives they lost in the battle forget them for a while. Makri might not approve of cheap entertainment but it certainly goes down well at the Avenging Axe. As for Captain Rallee,

I've never seen him looking so cheerful. He's in such a benevolent mood he forgets to be annoyed about the fact that we're both working on the same case.

"Thraxas. I hear you've been looking for the Ocean Storm."

I nod.

"Any success?"

I shake my head. I sent a message to the Guards telling them about the two bodies in Silver Lane, so Captain Rallee now knows about the murders. I sent the message anonymously so he doesn't know it was me who found them. Or possibly he does; Captain Rallee isn't a fool.

"It's a big thing for the city," says the Captain. "If you do somehow stumble across it, get it to the Sorcerers as soon as possible. You know there was a report of an Orcish fleet not far along the coast?"

I'd heard about it. I'm not sure if I believe it.

"I don't think they'll be out in this weather. There's no good anchorage along the coast. If they got caught in a storm they'd be done for."

"Maybe they don't plan to be out there for long."

The Captain's point being, of course, that if the Orcs get hold of the Ocean Storm they can use the magical talisman to batter down our defences around the harbour and sail right in. It's a good option for Prince Amrag. He doesn't have siege engines and it's hard to see how he can storm the walls in winter. The eastern and western gates of the city are heavily guarded by men and sorcery, and the North Gate, where the river flows into the city, is extremely well protected. Battering his way into the harbour might be his best plan.

Captain Rallee has a lot of men engaged in the hunt. So far they've had no more success than the Sorcerers Guild or Praetor Samilius. The Captain glances round to where Moolifi is engaged in a conversation with

Dandelion and Tanrose. Then he looks at me. I figure I'm expected to say something.

"She's a fine woman. Must be making your life brighter."

"She is."

The Captain suddenly looks downcast.

"Of course she's just hooked up with me for the duration of the war. You know how everyone goes crazy when the enemy is at the gates."

He looks at me again, but if he's expecting me to reassure him that Moolifi will love him forever, he's come to the wrong man.

"When were we first in action together?" asks the Captain.

I shrug.

"About twenty years ago."

"We made it through a lot of fighting."

Captain Rallee stares into his drink.

"I'm not expecting to make it through this."

"Why not?"

"I just don't think anyone will come and help us. Turai's luck has run out."

I'm surprised to hear the Captain so pessimistic. He's always been a man who is confident of finding his way through, even in difficult circumstances.

"At least you've got Moolifi to cheer up your final days."

"True. But she picked a poor time to arrive in this city."

"Lucky for you though."

The Captain nods.

"Strange the way she hooked up with me," he says.

"That's the second time you've said that."

"So?"

"So what's your problem? You think Moolifi might be after you for your money?"

This make the Captain laugh. We both know that a captain in the Civil Guards doesn't earn enough to attract fortune-hunters.

Makri arrives, still scowling.

"Enjoy the singing?" asks the Captain.

"No," snaps Makri, grabbing his empty tankard and departing without another word. Rallee looks startled.

"What the hell?"

"She has harsh critical standards," I explain. "Doesn't really like anything if it's not Elvish. And old."

He shakes his head

"Makri the intellectual. I don't envy the man who ends up with her."

He looks straight at me. The Captain seems to be doing that a lot.

"I always figured you had a thing for her."

"Then you figured wrong. I'm going to my grave clutching a beer tankard."

"That still leaves one hand free."

"Then I'll pick up another beer."

"Maybe you ought to think about it more. None of us are liable to be here come the spring."

"Goddamn it, Rallee, since when did you become as miserable as a Niojan whore? Your pretty singer doesn't seem to be making you that cheerful."

"The pretty singer makes me wish I might live a bit longer."

I spend a very unsatisfactory night sleeping on my office floor in front of the fire. Lisutaris is still in my private room, with Makri on the floor by her side. Hanama is lying on the couch. I'm used to a bit of privacy and I'm finding this assortment of Turai's least desirable women hard to take. I'd considered sleeping in the store room downstairs, or even the corridor, but brief investigation reminds me that these places are all as cold as the ice queen's grave, and I'm not prepared to freeze to death just to get away from them all. I wrap myself in my cloak and lie in front of the fire, cursing the winter malady and everyone who's suffering from it.

At least I have the card game to look forward to. The evening after tomorrow I'll be sitting at a table with Glixius, Praetor Capatius and General Acarius. I'll show them a thing or two. I remember I haven't got enough money to play and feel downcast for a moment. I'd better do something about it. I resolve to head out early tomorrow and find the buried gold. Maybe I'll come across the Ocean Storm while I'm at it. I could do with some spectacular success. It has to happen to everyone sometime.

Next morning I wrap my magic warm cloak around me and head out early to visit Kerk, an informer of mine. In Quintessence Street the stall-holders are already at work, shivering behind their meagre displays of goods. I'm grateful for my warm cloak. It gives me a slight feeling of superiority to the procession of cold figures hurrying about their business in Twelve Seas. None of them have a magic item keeping them warm.

Kerk is at home; he's living in one squalid room at the top of a ramshackle tenement at the far end of St. Rominius's Lane. It's the sort of place where the very poorest people end up; one step up from sleeping in an alleyway. The landlords divide and subdivide the floors into smaller and smaller rooms, till they're barely sufficient for humans to live in. Nothing is good in a place like this: no sanitation, ventilation, hygiene, privacy, nothing.

Kerk opens the door and looks disappointed when he sees me. He has a slightly Elvish look to him, something about his eyes. If he does have a touch of Elvish blood it was no doubt deposited by some visiting Elf into a whore in Twelve Seas. Even visiting Elves need a little entertainment. I think he might have been a smart guy when he was younger. Occasionally he still is, but he's too far gone with dwa to ever get out of it. He scrapes up what little money he can, uses it to buy the drug, and then looks for more money to buy more dwa. The same thing, over and over, destroying himself a little more each time. I doubt he's eaten a proper meal in years. It doesn't seem like much of an existence. Maybe the Orcs will be doing him a favour if they destroy the city. Even if they don't, he'll be dead soon enough.

I tell him I'm looking for the beggar I saw outside the tenement in Silver Lane.

"The place where that sea captain was murdered?"

"The same."

Kerk holds out one hand. This early in the morning he's fairly lucid, but already trembling, in need of dwa. I hand over a very small coin.

"More," he says.

"More when you tell me something."

"I know where you can find him. Give me more."

I hand over another small coin. Kerk used to be a reliable informer. These days he's not so reliable and I'm not paying him too much in advance only to find he knows nothing. Kerk scowls at the two small coins in his hand.

"His name's Nerinax. He usually begs in front of St. Volinius's church in the morning. Good spot, usually gets something from the pontifex."

I give Kerk a larger coin. He stops scowling. I leave, picking my way carefully down the dark, litter-strewn stairway into the street below. It's not far to the church. A chill rain starts to fall and I walk swiftly over the frozen streets. I'm hoping I don't run into the priest, Derlex. He's had it in for me ever since I got into an argument with his superior, Bishop Gzekius. While I admit that I've never been the most godly of men, I still say it was going too far to use me as the main example in his famous sermon against the four great vices— gluttony, gambling, drunkenness and violence. Children still point at me in the street.

Nerinax the beggar is sitting right in front of the church. The last time I was inside the building I encountered some Orcs. Makri killed them. She was so keen to kill them I was left trailing in her wake.

Nerinax has a bowl in front of him containing a few small coins. There's a crutch propped up on the wall beside him, and one of his legs ends just below the knee. When I approach him he looks up hopefully. I take another small coin from my purse.

"Do you have a spot for begging up in Silver Lane?"

He stares at me, no longer hopeful. Now I'm not a person who's about to give him money. I'm a person who wants to ask questions, never a popular thing in Twelve Seas.

"Silver Lane," I repeat. "Do you beg there?"

"What about it?"

"Who did you see coming out of the building?"

"No one."

I drop the coin into his bowl and take out another one. So far I've bribed the sailor in the Mermaid, Kerk, and now Nerinax. It's the easiest way to get information. At least I haven't had to think too much.

"Are you from the Guards?"

"No. I'm an Investigator. And Captain Arex was murdered inside the building you were outside of. As I'm sure you know. So tell me about the people you saw coming out."

"I saw you."

"Who else?"

"Civil Guards. After you."

"What about before me?"

Nerinax looks round uncomfortably. He'd like me to drop another coin in his bowl but he doesn't want anyone to see him giving information to an Investigator. Giving information can be an unhealthy pastime in Twelve Seas. There's no one around. I drop the coin into his bowl.

"A few people were in and out of the building. A Sorcerer."

"A Sorcerer? A big man? Long cloak and fancy black boots?"

The beggar nods. So Glixius Dragon Killer was there. That's interesting.

"Who else?"

"A thin man in a cloak."

"What did he look like?"

Nerinax shrugs.

"He had his hood up. He was thin. He was looking down like he didn't want to be recognised."

"Was this before the Sorcerer?"

He nods. I question him some more but he can't give me a better description. A thin man in a cloak. Medium height, wearing a grey tunic, same as most people in Twelve Seas. It's not much of a description.

"Anyone else?"

He glances round nervously again. Fearing he's about to clam up, I take out another coin.

"Borinbax," he says, quite nervously.

I've heard of Borinbax. He works for the Brotherhood, which is enough reason for Nerinax not to want anyone to know he saw him. Borinbax is a thief by trade. Not famous for his exploits, but busy enough. Mainly works around the harbour warehouses but has been known to rob wagons coming into the city. He could be the sort of man to steal the Ocean Storm, though I never heard that he was a killer. If he does have it, it might be in the hands of the Brotherhood by now, which will make it very awkward to retrieve.

I hand over another coin. By now the rain has started to fall more heavily. The beggar shivers, and looks uncomfortable. The front door of the church opens. I glance up. It's Derlex, the pontifex. He glares at me. I depart swiftly.

Borinbax rents some rooms above a sailmaker's shop close to the docks. By the time I get there the sky is dark grey and the rain is coming down heavily. The water in the harbour is choppy. Out beyond the harbour walls the sea is cutting up quite roughly. If there are any Orcish ships out there they might be in for an uncomfortable time. Perhaps Prince Amrag and his whole army will drown. That would save us a lot of trouble.

Before calling on Borinbax, I look around for a whale, or something which might resemble one. I don't see anything. I wasn't expecting to. I've lived close to the harbour most of my life and I've never heard of anything called the whale. But Tanrose's mother definitely recalled that her father said the gold was buried under the whale. After some fruitless tramping of the streets I start to wonder if perhaps she's losing her mind. Always a possibility, after a long life in Twelve Seas.

There are various taverns dotted around the docks. I wonder if any of them might once have been called the Whale. It's a possibility. I'll check it out later. I abandon the hunt and turn my mind back to Borinbax.

There's a door beside the sailmaker's shop and a staircase leading up to Borinbax's rooms. The door isn't locked and I climb the stairs carefully. Whoever's taken the Ocean Storm hasn't hesitated to kill, and I keep my hand on my sword pommel as I make the ascent. I've got a sleep spell ready to knock out anyone who gets in my way. It's a small piece of sorcery but it's often helped me out of a jam.

Borinbax's front door is painted white. Most front doors in Turai are. It's the lucky colour for front doors.

It's freshly painted, probably a sign that he isn't doing too badly for himself. The door swings open easily. Odd. No self-respecting thief leaves his front door open. I draw my sword and advance carefully into the hallway. It's dark, with no torch lit, so I take out my illuminated staff and speak the word to make it work. The hall lights up with a golden glow. My illuminated staff is a fine piece of craftsmanship. I won it from an Elf lord playing niarit. He was a fool to play me. I'm number one chariot at niarit.

The hallway is neat and clean. Fresh plaster on the walls and a small religious icon with a picture of St. Quatinius, picked out in gold. There's a rug on the floor, another good item, Abelasian wool, better quality than you'd find in most places in Twelve Seas. Borinbax must be doing well for himself. Or was doing well for himself, I should say, because he's lying face down in the hallway, dead, and no longer enjoying his furnishings.

I creep further along the hall, examining each of his rooms. They're all neat and they're all empty. I go back to the body and turn it over carefully. There's an ugly wound in his chest. I stare at it for a few moments. Doesn't quite look like a stab wound. I try sensing the air for sorcery. I can't pick up anything. I take a further look around but I'm not expecting to find anything, and I don't. The Ocean Storm has eluded me again.

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