I return to my office to pick up my sword and load up with a spell or two. I cram some thazis sticks and a flask of klee into a pocket. When I turn round I find Sarin the Merciless staring at me. I glare at her.
"Aren't you better yet?"
She doesn't reply. She's huddled up in one of my blankets, as is Hanama. Hanama at least contrives to look innocent. Sarin just looks like a killer.
"I'm off to find the Ocean Storm. No doubt you intended to find it and sell it to the Orcs. Well, you can forget it."
"I'd have it already if I hadn't got sick," she whispers.
"No you wouldn't."
"I've outwitted you in the past."
"So you claim. And here you are, sick on my couch. Try outwitting that."
"You're not making sense," sneers Sarin.
"Not making sense? Try this. I work every day and I fight for my city. You're a parasite who feeds off honest people. Does that make sense?"
Sarin mops her brow. She's bathed in perspiration, suffering badly from the disease.
"There's no difference between us," she says. "We're both empty. I fill it up with crime. You fill it up with food and beer."
I blink. It's an odd thing to say.
"You're rambling, Sarin. The malady does that. When you get healthy you'll remember which one of us is the honest upright citizen. And you're not going to be healthy for long once Makri's done with you."
Sarin sneers.
"If she had any sense she'd have done with me already. But at least her life isn't empty like yours."
"Oh no?"
"No."
"She works as a barmaid and wastes her time listening to Samanatius the phoney philosopher."
"You don't like Samanatius?" says Sarin.
"I don't."
"That shows what a fool you are."
Not willing to engage in further conversation with a woman who is clearly delirious, I leave through the outside door, place the locking spell on it, and hurry down the steps into Quintessence Street. As soon as I hit the cold thoroughfare it strikes me that I don't really know what I'm looking for. Whales, maybe, but I've already checked Twelve Seas quite thoroughly, and I'd swear there wasn't one lurking in the shadows. As for the Ocean Storm, who knows where that might be? As far as
I can gather, it was gone from Borinbax's house before Sarin killed him. If it hadn't been she'd have it by now, and wouldn't be troubling me.
A squadron of troops marches by, on their way to bolster the harbour defences. Each man has a long spear and a shield over his shoulder. By this time the city is awash with rumours that the Orcs are going to batter down the sea wall, and the area is continually being reinforced. As well as additional soldiers, Cicerius has assigned more Sorcerers to the sea defences. Even Kemlath Orc Slayer is down there, in charge of one section of wall. Kemlath was banished for his crimes, crimes which I detected, but he's been recalled for the duration of the war. I'm not objecting. The city needs the services of everyone who can wield a spell.
I find myself in the narrow street where Makri and I met Marizaz, Orcish Assassin. What a strange affair that was. One that I really should have looked into further. I would have had my mind not been preoccupied with raising money, and looking after the sick. I can hardly be blamed for some neglect when it comes to investigating. The way the Avenging Axe is bulging with ailing people just now is enough to put anyone off. Once more I find myself wondering if there might be some sorcery behind it. Lisutaris can insist all she wants that no magic is involved, but I still say it's unnatural the way no one can set foot in my office without catching the malady. It goes against all reason.
I glance down at the spot where Makri killed Marizaz. A tiny splash of colour catches my eye, bright against the dull frozen mud. I reach down to pick it up. It's a small scrap of cloth, a few threads of pink. Unusual. There's not that much pink fabric to be found in Twelve Seas. It's an expensive colour. The dye has to be imported from the far west. Upper-class women might flaunt their wealth by wearing pink garments, but no one does in
Twelve Seas. I wonder how it got here. As far as I remember, Marizaz wasn't wearing pink. I put the threads in my pocket and look around some more, without finding anything. Then I return to the Avenging Axe. I've made no progress and I'm stuck for inspiration.
Captain Rallee is sitting at a table with Moolifi. I decline his invitation to join them. The Captain is more gregarious these days but I'm not in the mood for admiring the fineness of his lady friend. I'm starting to resent the way he's sitting around here being pleased with himself while I'm out investigating in the cold streets. I make a brief enquiry about the likelihood of food and learn that Gurd has sent out for an emergency cook. Meanwhile he and Dandelion are attempting to manufacture some sort of stew. Knowing Gurd's lack of culinary expertise, I don't hold out much hope, unless the emergency cook turns out to be a woman of extraordinary skill, which isn't that likely.
By now in a thoroughly bad mood, I traipse upstairs to my room to have another look at Makri's book. Unfortunately it's not there. I glance suspiciously at Hanama but she's sleeping and she isn't holding a book. I'm concerned. If someone's stolen Makri's book she'll go crazy, and probably accuse me of not looking after it properly. I hunt round my room, without success. Finally I put my nose through the bedroom door, in case Lisutaris might have it. I'm surprised to find Makri sitting on the floor, reading the book in question. She looks up as I enter, and shifts uncomfortably.
"Thraxas. Finished investigating?"
"Just came back to do some research."
I stare at the book.
"Some research from that book, as it happens."
I hold out my hand.
"You can't have it," says Makri.
"What do you mean, I can't have it? I need it."
"So do I."
"What for?"
"College."
"College is closed."
"I have to prepare a seminar. For next year. On naval history."
I stare at Makri.
"Makri, you are a terrible liar. You don't have a seminar to prepare, whatever that means. If you did you wouldn't have lent me the book."
I take a step towards her.
"Hand it over."
Makri leaps to her feet.
"Back off," she says. "I need this book."
"You're researching whales, aren't you!" I cry.
"Whales? You're talking rubbish. Why would I be researching whales?"
"Because you're trying to get your hands on Tanrose's gold! How did you learn about it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," says Makri, not very convincingly. She really is a bad liar. Faced with a master of the art like me, she's wasting her time. Nonetheless, she doesn't look like she's going to give up the book without a fight. I take a step backwards, and draw myself up to my full height.
"I might have expected this from you. I'm out there doing an honest day's work and the moment I get home I find you stabbing me in the back."
"No one is stabbing you in the back. And what do you mean, you might have expected it of me?" demands Makri.
"The Orcish blood. Never trust a person with pointed ears."
Makri narrows her eyes. When she does that they have an odd, slanted appearance. Another sure sign of her non-Human untrustworthiness.
"I'm getting fed up of your Orcish insults," she says.
"Feel free to leave the city any time," I respond, and I mean it. We stare at each other angrily for a few seconds.
"How did you learn about the whale story?" I demand.
"Everyone knows about it," snaps Makri. "Glixius Dragon Killer was in here asking about whales while you were out."
"Glixius? How did he learn about it?"
"Servant gossip. Tanrose's mother's servant is the sister of one of Glixius's cooks."
Servants are notorious for gossiping. I should have guessed it wouldn't remain a secret. I'd better find this gold, and soon. If I don't, there's no telling how many people might start trying to muscle in. I curse Glixius. This man really is the bane of my life. Not only is he searching for the Ocean Storm, he's apparently looking for the hidden gold. It's not like the man is poor. He doesn't need a share of 14,000 gurans the way I do. The thought makes me even angrier. I feel slightly better when I remember that I'll soon have the chance to take some of his money from him at the card table. Unfortunately I'm immediately reminded that I don't have enough money to sit down with yet, and I get angry again.
I leave the room. To hell with them all. I've got about thirty-six hours before Turai's richest gamblers roll up to the Avenging Axe, and nothing is going to prevent me from finding the cash I need to play with them. There's a knock on the inner door. I open it to find Tirini Snake Smiter outside. I glare at her. Tirini hasn't actually stabbed me in the back but she's an associate of Lisutaris's and Makri is Lisutaris's bodyguard, so I'm annoyed at her by association.
"What do you want?" I ask.
Tirini looks surprised.
"To protect Lisutaris, of course. That's what I'm here for, remember?"
I let her in, muttering under my breath all the while.
Tirini eyes me with mild distaste.
"Don't blame me. This tavern is the last place I'd choose to spend my time. But some of us have to make sacrifices for the good of the city. Did you give up guarding the walls?"
"I have a few days off."
"Really," says Tirini, raising her eyebrows. "How reassuring. One trusts the Orcs are also enjoying a holiday."
Tirini sweeps past me and on into the bedroom to check on Lisutaris. I notice she's wearing another fancy pair of shoes with pink and gold embroidery. Was she wearing them before? I can't remember. The pink looks rather similar to the threads I have in my pocket. The ones I picked up from where we left Marizaz.
There's probably nothing in it. Lots of rich Turanian women have embroidery on their shoes. It's a popular way of showing off your wealth. But maybe I'll examine them later to see if there are any threads missing. I don't completely trust Tirini. She never appeared on the battlefield. For all anyone knows she could be an Orcish spy. Lisutaris trusts her. But Lisutaris also employs Makri as a bodyguard, so it's not like you can trust her judgement in everything.
There's a knock on the outside door.
"Go to hell!" I shout.
The door flies open. Harmon Half Elf strolls into the room. He has long fair hair, and an elegant green cloak with the rainbow motif of the Sorcerers Guild embroidered around the hem.
"Where is the meeting?" he asks, politely enough for a man who just countermanded my locking spell and barged into my office.
"What meeting?"
"The Sorcerers' meeting."
"What Sorcerers' meeting?"
Before I can reply, Coranius the Grinder strides in though the door. Coranius is one of Turai's most powerful Sorcerers, and a man of notoriously short temper.
"Where is the meeting?" he asks, curtly.
I'm starting to feel annoyed.
"There isn't any meeting."
Coranius stares at me.
"Stop talking rubbish."
A carriage draws up outside. Anumaris Thunderbolt, one of our younger Sorcerers, hurries into the office.
"Am I late for the meeting?" she asks. "Hello, Thraxas."
I nod at her politely. I fought at Anumaris's side only a month or two ago, when the Orcs attacked us outside the walls. It was her first time in battle and she did well, so I greet her rather more politely, but tell her once more there isn't a meeting.
My bedroom door opens. Tirini leans out.
"In here, everyone," she says.
"What's going on? Did you organise a meeting in my room without telling me?"
No one listens. Before Harmon, Coranius and Anumaris have disappeared through the door, Lanius Suncatcher, Chief Sorcerer from Palace Security, is hurrying in, followed by Melus the Fair, resident Sorcerer at the Stadium Superbius.
"Is there any chance of a glass of wine?" asks Melus.
I'm speechless. If a bunch of Sorcerers think they can just turn up and start demanding wine from me they're sadly mistaken. I'm about to give them all a piece of my mind when old Hasius the Brilliant himself hobbles into the room complete with three attendants. Old Hasius is reputed to be 112 years old, and he's starting to look it. He very rarely leaves his chambers at the Abode of Justice yet here he is, walking into a tavern in Twelve Seas like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Various other Sorcerers crowd in, some powerful, some less so, and some I don't even know. I fight my way to the door of my bedroom and peer over their shoulders. My bedroom is a mass of rainbow cloaks of every description. Sorcerers are perched everywhere, on the floor, on the bed, all acting like they belong here. Meanwhile Makri is sitting calmly beside Lisutaris. It's enough to test anyone's patience.
"Would someone tell me what's going on?" I yell, loud enough to stop their babbling. They all turn to look at me.
"Sorcerers' meeting," says Coranius, sternly.
"Yes, I know it's a Sorcerers' meeting. But why in my bedroom?"
"Because Lisutaris is here."
"And she can't be moved."
"Sorry Thraxas," says Lisutaris, who's still looking weak, but has managed to sit up in bed. She has her cloak draped round her shoulders, and looks rather regal.
"Isn't it meant to be a secret that she's here?" I ask.
"It remains a secret," says Coranius.
"Not much of a secret if every Sorcerer in Turai suddenly appears."
"We're Sorcerers," says Coranius. "We can cover our tracks."
I'm about to raise several more objections when Glixius Dragon Killer suddenly appears.
"Sorry to be late," he booms, brushing past me. "Has the meeting started yet?"
I give up in disgust. My own private space invaded by my enemies, and there's nothing to be done about it. Much as I'd like to sling every one of them out into the street, I can't. The weakest Sorcerer here still has more power than me. Unable to think of even a good line to leave on, I turn on my heel and depart. I'm seething, not least because Makri seems to be welcome at the meeting whereas I'm obviously not. I head straight downstairs to the bar. I need beer, and plenty of it. And I need it quickly. Gurd is standing behind the bar, a welcoming sight.
"Beer. Quickly. My rooms are full of Sorcerers."
Gurd pours me a beer. He hands it over with a sympathetic look.
"It's an outrage," I say. "A man can't even call his room his own anymore. First it was invaded by sick people and now it's Sorcerers. I detest them all."
"Perhaps the Sorcerers will get sick," says Gurd.
"I hope so. I tell you, Gurd, this city makes me sick. Apart from you, I hate every inhabitant."
Gurd grins, but his smile fades quite suddenly and he starts to look vague. He puts his hand to his forehead, then stares at his palm, which is damp with sweat.
"Is it hot in here?" he asks.
Before I can reply, Gurd is sinking gently to the floor.
"And you're sick as well," I say, and shake my head sadly. "Now I don't like anyone."
"Look after the tavern," gasps Gurd.
Dandelion appears on the scene. She gives a small cry when she sees Gurd lying on the floor.
"Oh my goodness, Gurd is sick. Help me get him to his room. Thraxas? What are you doing?"
"Pouring myself a beer."
"We have to help Gurd."
"I will. I just need a beer first."
At this rate there will soon be no one left. Gurd was my last ally. Now he's gone it's just me against the hostile world, and at this moment the hostile world seems to be winning.
Makri suddenly appears at my side.
"Shouldn't you be with your Sorcerer buddies?"
"They threw me out," says Makri. "I'm completely offended."
"Well, Sorcerers are always secretive."
"But I'm Lisutaris's bodyguard."
Poor Makri. She's under the misapprehension that this gives her some sort of status. It doesn't really. She's acknowledged to be a good woman with a sword, but fighting abilities alone don't win status in this city.
"Help us get Gurd into his room."
"I hate all these sick people everywhere," says Makri.