Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

Chapter Fourteen

The weather is improving rapidly. Spring appears quickly in these parts. It's warm, and I'm labouring slightly as I make my way towards the Bathing Houses to meet Lisutaris and Makri. As I pass the King's Bathing House, General Hemistos emerges looking clean, healthy and weather-beaten. To my great surprise, he greets me in very friendly manner.

"Thraxas, wasn't it? Is your companion Makri due to fight today?"

"She should be, unless the other fights run late."

"Excellent," says the General. "I look forward to it. Was she really champion gladiator of the Orcish lands?"

There's an eager tone in Hemistos's voice which makes him sound younger than his years. I recognise the tone. I've heard young men sounding eager about Makri. Usually when they've just seen her walk by in the tavern wearing her chainmail bikini. General Hemistos is full of questions, and even when we encounter Baron Girimos and Harbour Sorcerer Kublinos, he doesn't stop. We meet a few more Barons, all heading to the Queen's Bathing house to pick up their wives before heading to the tournament. Normally I'd be shunned by such a company but such is their interest in Makri that for once I'm a welcome guest.

"She usually favours a twin sword technique, I believe?" says the General. "Will she be able to cope with a sword and a shield?"

"She should," I reply. "Makri can use any sort of weapon."

While it's gratifying not to be shunned, I'm not actually all that pleased about Makri's sudden rise to prominence. I'd rather she remained an outsider. If these Barons start favouring her, her odds will plummet. It was a mistake for her to appear in front of them all yesterday, shoving that young dragon around like it was a puppy. And of course, in her frankly-indecent man's tunic and leggings, she was exhibiting a lot more female shape than they're used to seeing. No wonder she got their attention.

"Vosanos!" calls Baron Girimos. "Just arrived in town?"

I recognise the name. Baron Vosanos, father of the girl that Demelzos's son is marrying. I observe him as he walks across the busy road to join his fellow Barons. He's an elderly man, the oldest Baron in view by some way. Slightly built, long, thinning grey hair, with a polished walking stick in his hand. Despite the warmth in the air, he's wearing a heavy cloak, with a thick fur collar, the sort of cloak that lets you know the owner has plenty of money. His daughter's a good match for Demelzos's son, according to everyone.

"I say!" says General Hemistos, loudly. All eyes follow his in the direction of the Queen's Bathing house. The marble steps leading down to the road are busy with women going in and out. All of them wealthy, and all of them perfectly attired. As is Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, who walks down the steps with her normal straight-backed elegance, robe and rainbow cloak perfectly arranged, not a hair out of place. Beside her is Makri who has not bothered to get fully dressed before leaving the building, and strolls down the stairs still pulling her tunic over her head. With a lot of flesh on display, two swords at her hip and a her still-wet hair flopping all over the place, she makes for an unusual sight.

"Good Lord!" says the elderly Baron Vosanos. "Who is that?"

"Makri,' says the Simnian Ambassador, who joined the party a little while ago. "Lisutaris's bodyguard. She's fighting in the tournament."

"Splendid figure," barks the Baron. "Haven't seen anything like that since I was out in the East."

Lisutaris seems gratified to find a large collection of Barons outside the Bathing House. She greets them politely, exchanging pleasantries.

"I think they're starting to take to me," she says, as we head towards the tournament fields.

"Where's your amour and shield?" I ask Makri.

"Right here," says Lisutaris, dangling a tiny yellow purse by it's drawstring.

"A magic pocket? Where did you get that?" Magic pockets are valuable items. You can carry around any amount of heavy items safely inside, all apparently weightless and without volume, until you take them out again.

"Kublinos lent it to me. He's lending me a carriage as well."

The qualifying round starts later this afternoon, but until the draw is made, we won't know exactly when Makri is fighting. Reaching the tournament fields with time to spare, we take a stroll through the busy tents and stalls.

"Look at that sign - Pie eating contest. Prize - fifty gurans." I come to a swift halt. "I could win that. Easy as bribing a senator."

"You'd be a clear favourite," agrees Makri. "Are you going to enter?"

"No, he's not," says Lisutaris.

"Why am I not?"

"How is it going to reflect on the status of the Head of the Sorcerers Guild if her Chief Adviser is found wallowing around in a pie eating contest?"

I admit she has a point, though it galls me to pass up the opportunity.

"Maybe he could enter under a false name?" suggests Makri. "Saxarth perhaps?"

Lisutaris dismisses this. "That wouldn't fool anyone."

"We could do with the fifty gurans," I point out. "We have no funds left."

"But you've bet on me, haven't you?" says Makri. "So that's guaranteed winnings."

I hope so. I still don't like Makri's over-confidence. We press on through the crowd, heading for the large marquee where the draw will be made. It takes a while to force our way through. Even Lisutaris's rainbow cloak, easily recognisable, isn't enough to make the crowd part without a struggle. I'm obliged to use my bodyweight to clear the local peasantry out the way.

"You'd think they would pay more respect to the Head of the Sorcerers Guild," I say, as I clear a path. "Not to mention me. I'm a past-champion. These stalls should be selling figurines of me."

"Maybe there should be a large statue," says Makri.

"I don't see why not. There's not been many warriors like Saxarth the Invincible, I can tell you."

Makri laughs. "Never mind. At least Demelzos remembers you fondly."

This brings Lisutaris to an abrupt halt. "Baroness Demelzos? What does she remember fondly?"

"Thraxas."

"Why?"

"They had a passionate affair, a long time ago."

The Sorceress gapes. "Thraxas had an affair with Baroness Demelzos? Is this true?"

"She wasn't Baroness Demelzos then," I say. "She was Demmy the barmaid."

"I can't believe it," says Lisutaris. "Thraxas and Demelzos? The mind reels."

I'm not feeling very pleased by any of this. For one thing, Makri shouldn't have blabbed about it, and for another, Lisutaris doesn't have to react as if it's the strangest occurrence in the history of the world.

"Why were you so rude to her in Orosis?" asks Lisutaris.

"I didn't recognise her. It was more than twenty years since I'd seen her. And I'd had one or two beers."

"It must have been a shock for the Baroness," says Makri. "Seeing her past return to haunt her in the shape of Thraxas. No woman could be prepared for that."

"You should have told me this earlier!" cries Lisutaris. "Have you had affairs with any other members of the Samsarinan aristocracy?"

"Is it any of your business?"

"Of course. You're my Chief Adviser. I don't want to be discomfited by shocking revelations from the past. Does Baron Mabados know about this?"

"No."

"That's just as well."

"I knew Demelzos before she ever met the Baron," I point out. "It's not like she cheated on him."

"He'd still be furious. How would he feel if the other Barons learned his wife was once rolling around with a sword-fighter?"

"I don't care what Baron Mabados feels about anything. Here's the Marquee we're looking for."

I head inside to make enquiries, leaving Lisutaris and Makri beside the area sectioned off for fighters to warm up. The organisers have just completed the draw for the qualifying rounds and are busy pinning up lists of fighters. There are forty-eight hopefuls, of whom sixteen will qualify for the tournament proper. The organisers have divided these forty-eight fighters into eight groups of six. I already know the rules but I scan them again, just to be certain. All the fighters in each group fight each other once. The winner is awarded one point. The top two from each group qualify for the real competition. Makri will have five fights. She shouldn't have any difficulty finishing in the top two. The only bad thing is that Makri's group is the last to be scheduled, which means a long wait.

I head back to the warm-up area where Makri is now in conversation with General Hemistos. Kublinos has also put in appearance and is standing close to Lisutaris. I tell Makri what's expected of her.

"I'll win the group," she says, matter-of-factly.

"You should warm up," I suggest.

Makri shrugs. "I won't be fighting for a while. I'll do it later."

"Ah, Mistress of the Sky," comes a voice. It's Lasat Axe of Gold, in the company of Chief Steward Daringos. He glances towards the Marquee. "Qualifying round? Best of luck. My fighter, Elupus, doesn't have to qualify, of course."

I'm surprised at the pettiness of this. For the nation's top Sorcerer, Lasat never misses an opportunity to make some footling criticism.

"Elupus is a strong favourite," continues Lasat. "What do the bookmakers have to say about your young lady?"

"Nothing," I say, muscling my way into the conversation. "Which is unfortunate for them, because we're cleaning up when Makri wins the tournament."

"Really? What say you, Lisutaris, to a small bet on whose fighter progresses furthest?"

"I say that's a good idea," replies Lisutaris, rising to the bait. With so many Barons looking on, it would be difficult not to.

"Say five thousand gurans?"

I blink. That's a lot of money when you don't have any.

Lisutaris doesn't blink. "Only five thousand? I thought you were confident. Let's make it ten."

Lasat is taken aback, though he does his best not to show it. "Ten thousand? Very well. To whoever goes furthest in the tournament."

Lasat bids us farewell, and departs with a smile on his face. Throughout all this Makri has shown no sign of emotion. Kublinos, however, is very concerned.

"Ten thousand gurans? I don't mean to be rude… " He casts a glance towards Makri. "But are you certain about this?'

"Quite certain," declares Lisutaris. "Lasat Axe of Gold is not going to intimidate me. Makri will be victorious. Thraxas, I have a small matter I need to discuss with you."

Lisutaris draws me aside, out of earshot. "Thraxas, find me a quiet space where I can inhale some thazis."

"Here? It's risky."

"Not as risky as me lighting up a stick in full view of everyone. Which I will do in about fifteen seconds if you don't find me somewhere private. Do you realise I just bet ten thousand gurans?"

"I thought you carried it off well, in the circumstances."

"I don't have any money! What if Makri loses?"

"We could flee. Fleeing from gambling debts isn't so bad, I've done it a few times."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's quite an established tradition."

By now I've led us to a quiet spot beside one of the small huts used as changing rooms. We slip inside. Lisutaris takes out a thazis stick and snaps her fingers. Her magical power really is considerable. I doubt if any other Sorcerer in the world could simultaneously cast spells to lock the door, light a thazis stick and erase the smell of smoke with one hand, while rolling another stick with the other. "If Makri loses I'll probably have to marry Kublinos. He's got a lot of money. I didn't really notice he was attracted to me till Makri pointed it out." She pauses. "Strange really. Men aren't often attracted to me."

The hairs on the back of my neck tingle. I have an uncanny sense of when a woman is about to say something concerning romance, emotion and affairs of the heart, none of which I want to talk about.

"Why do you think that is?" says Lisutaris.

"Probably just put off by your position. You know, Head of the Sorcerers Guild. It can be intimidating."

Lisutaris isn't convinced. "I don't think it's that intimidating."

"Well there's probably some other simple explanation," I hazard.

"I'm not attractive? Is that what you're saying?"

"I didn't say that at all."

"There's no real need to say it, is there? I mean, face facts. Men simply regard me as unattractive."

Lisutaris looks so unhappy I'm worried she might burst into tears, something I'm completely unable to cope with.

"Could we stop having this conversation?" I say, desperately. "We have to get back to Makri."

"Of course, you can't last five minutes without Makri," says Lisutaris. "It's obviously tedious spending any time in my company. You're wasting your time you know, Thraxas. A beautiful young woman like Makri is never going to go for you, no matter how much you keep trying to seduce her."

"I've never tried to seduce Makri," I protest.

"I suppose seduce is the wrong word. More like skulking around the Queen's Bathing House, hoping to see her naked again. I tell you Thraxas, it looks bad for a man of your age. People are starting to notice."

"What people?"

"Many people. Your relentless pursuit of Makri is the talk of the Baroness's swimming group."

"I refuse to continue this conversation."

"Hah." Lisutaris smokes the rest of her thazis in gloomy silence. I think her moods are becoming worse. I've no idea why. I suppose the prospect of abject humiliation in front of her peers might have something to do with it.

"I need to speak to the King's Chief Steward, Daringos," I say. "Could you arrange that for me?"

"I suppose so," says Lisutaris. Why?"

"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.