Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

Chapter Twenty-One

Next morning I set off early. With no strong leads and not much to go on, it's time to start bothering people. I'm intending to talk to anyone who might know anything about Baron Mabados's family. I spend the next six hours doing precisely that. In the main I talk to servants, but also question the messenger who delivers letters to Mabados's mansion, an apprentice at the saddler where he has his horses outfitted, and a woman who's been hired to provide flower arrangements for his son's wedding. It costs me some bribe money but that can't be helped. Servants don't just gossip to strangers for free.

The saddler's apprentice introduces me to a another apprentice at the coach repair shop, where I manage to inspect the carriage that killed Alceten, which was damaged in the collision. It's a medium-sized phaeton, similar to the one Kublinos has lent to Lisutaris. These phaetons aren't very grand, and while there's a cover to provide shelter from the elements, they're quite open at the front. I'm not certain anyone could remain concealed while driving. There is a tall foot-guard. It might be possible to lie behind that, if you were small enough. Merlione did say that visibility was poor. I leave the repair shop unconvinced either way.

Thanks to Lisutaris, I've managed to secure an appointment with Daringos, the King's Chief Steward. He's too busy to spare me more than five minutes, but when I meet him by arrangement at the Assembly House, he's friendlier than I anticipated. He goes so far as to tell me he can understand why there might be suspicions about Alceten's death, as it was such a shocking and unexpected event.

"But I looked into it thoroughly, and it was an accident. Someone stole the carriage from Baron Girimos's grounds the night before. We haven't been able to find out the culprits, though it was probably some revellers from out of town. Elath can be boisterous during the tournament. Whoever took it abandoned it in the street. The horses were probably nervous, and they bolted. Probably startled by dogs, there are quite a few strays down there.

"Can you be sure it wasn't deliberate?" I ask.

"There was nothing to suggest it was. The senior record keeper, Zinlantol, saw it happen. She's a reliable witness."

"You don't think there could have been someone driving the carriage?"

"Of course not. Zinlantol would have seen him. Besides, why would anyone kill that poor young woman? I've investigated quite a few misdeeds in my time, and there's always a motive. No one had a motive for killing the Record Keeper's daughter. She didn't have an enemy in the world. I'm sure of that, I know the family."

"If the carriage was empty, could someone have startled the horses deliberately?"

The King's Chief steward is surprised at the suggestion, but retains his polite composure. "I suppose that would be possible, but again, someone would have seen it."

"Did you ask the local Sorcerers to look into it?"

"That's not really the sort of work our Sorcerers do," replies Daringos. "Especially with all the war preparations going on."

I can't find much fault with this. Back in Turai, the authorities probably wouldn't have investigated the matter any more thoroughly than Daringos has. Not for someone as unimportant as the Record Keeper's daughter. I've realised by now that I'm not going to learn anything here. I depart, feeling that I haven't made any progress. By the time I arrive back at Arichdamis's house I'm weary and looking forward to a rest before Makri's first fight in the late afternoon. I find her in the garden with Lisutaris, in the warm sun.

"I hope you're not giving any of that thazis to Makri. She has to fight today. Besides, I need it." I join them on the grass, with my back to the wall of the house.

"Busy day investigating?" asks Lisutaris.

"I asked questions all over town." I inhale from Lisutaris's thazis stick.

"What did you learn?"

"Mabados's saddler doesn't like him. He's late paying his bills."

"That's it?"

"Just about. I've never met such a bunch of poorly-informed servants and shopkeepers. Hardly a scrap of decent information. Although Mabados not paying his bills was a recurrent theme."

"Aristocrats are always like that," says Makri. "They're always late paying tradesmen."

"True. The saddler doesn't like Baron Vosanos either. He owes them a lot of money even though he's the richest man in town." I turn to Lisutaris. "I need your help." I describe the recent attack on Merlione.

"I wondered why Merlione was here last night," says Makri. "I thought it might be some sort of secret liaison."

"Very amusing Makri."

"Well, you fascinated her mother. If you sleep with the daughter as well, isn't that some sort of crime against the Gods?"

"You don't believe in our Gods. And could you abandon your attempts at humour? You've been sarcastic ever since you found out about me and Baroness Demelzos. I don't think it's that strange we had an affair."

"Everybody else does."

"Are you hoping I can look back in time," says Lisutaris. "To catch a glimpse of the crime?"

"Something like that."

"The kuriya has been unresponsive. I've already tried to find out who took Arichdamis's plans. I got nowhere. I knew the moons were going into a bad alignment but it's happened much quicker than I expected. I think my Guild's astronomical charts may be flawed."

"Could you find out who fired this?" I ask, showing Lisutaris the arrow. She studies it for a few moments, then shakes her head.

"Sorry, it's been touched by too many people. Iron-tipped arrows never retain much information about their past."

I shake my head in frustration. "Is there anything you could do?"

"Like what?"

"Something brilliant, worthy of the Head of the Sorcerers Guild. If I could just find out what Alceten was working on in the Royal Record House everything might fall into place."

Lisutaris rolls herself another thazis stick and thinks for a few moments. "When she was at the Record House, was she usually in one place?"

"She was working in one of the upstairs rooms. But it's a large room, and there are so many different documents in there I can't tell what she was doing."

"I might be able to narrow it down for you. Do you have anything that belonged to her?"

"Merlione gave me this." I take out a small, lace handkerchief. It looks incongruous in my large hand.

"Good," says Lisutaris. "This might be a help. Lace does retain a lot of information."

It's the first I've heard of it. Sometimes I think these Sorcerers just make it up as they go along. "If we leave soon we can visit the Record House before Makri's fight. We need to leave enough time for the bookmaker as well."

"How is our betting going?" asks the Sorcerer.

"Well. We had over 2,700 gurans. I had to use some for bribes today. And I'll keep back a little for our expenses. It still leaves us 2,500 for betting on Makri. Feel free to congratulate me on the brilliance of my gambling strategy."

"Congratulations on your brilliance," says Lisutaris. She doesn't really sound like she means it.

Outside a group of children are hanging around. They yell when we appear. "There she is!" The children stare at Makri, but when she takes a step forward they scream and run off.

"That was annoying," says Makri.

"At least they weren't throwing stones."

The children aren't the only ones interested in Makri. As we drive slowly through the town, pedestrians, catching sight of her, nudge their companions, and point.

"I'm starting to feel self-conscious."

I tell Makri not to worry. "They're not pointing you out as a weird Orcish freak any more. Now they're pointing you out as a successful fighter."

"Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."

At the Royal Record house, Cetenos is just as downcast as before, though he brightens a little on learning that I've asked Lisutaris to help. He takes us to the room where his daughter worked, then leaves us alone. Lisutaris fumbles around inside her magic purse.

"I can't find the handkerchief. There it is… no, that's one of mine… I'm sure it's here somewhere…"

"Could you learn how to use your magic purse properly?"

Lisutaris looks pained. "It's really large inside, I haven't got the hang of it yet. Here it is." She produces the small piece of lace then throws it into the air. It hovers in front of her. She speaks a few words in one of the arcane languages she uses. The handkerchief languidly floats over to one corner of the room where it descends onto a chair.

"That's where Alceten was working the last time she was here," says Lisutaris. The lace handkerchief has landed at a table beside several cabinets full of documents, and there are shelves nearby, packed with books and scrolls.

"Mining records," says Makri, examining the papers in the cabinet. "And some family records on the shelves. Some tax records too. This doesn't really belong here, does it?" She picks up a very weighty tome from the table. "Samsarinan Commercial Law. This should be over with the other legal books."

I study the huge book. It is out of place.

"Do you think Alceten found some sort of illegal transaction?" asks Makri.

"Maybe. It would have to be serious if someone killed her because of it. And I don't see how it would involve Merlione." I glance at all the other records strewn around. Lisutaris has narrowed things down but there's still a lot to examine, and I'm not at my best with ancient legal scrolls and documents. I ask the Sorcerer if she could place our bet on Makri. "It'll let me make a start here. I'll meet you later at the fight."

"Lisutaris can't go into a bookmaker's shop," says Makri. "It will destroy her status."

"You could do it." I hand our money over to Makri. "Just make sure you get it right."

"You make sure you get to the fight on time," says Lisutaris. "You need to lead Makri out. I can't do that either."

Managing a sword-fighter is regarded as a low-class occupation. Though Barons and their ilk always show an interest in the fighters, none of them would sully their reputation by leading one on to the field.

Left on my own in the record room, I'm daunted by the prospect of wading through so many official records. Maybe I'll get lucky. Perhaps I'll find something quickly. The first scroll I pick up is entitled Assignment of copper-mining rights in the Southern provinces in the last fourteen years of the reign of King Garasolos. My heart sinks. King Garasolos lived two centuries ago. I put it down and turn to the book on commercial law instead. It's written in the dense hand of a copyist whose writing is clear, but small, and a strain to read. I manage half a page on the rights of Port Authorities to levy taxes on incoming goods before putting it down with a feeling of despair. Perhaps instead of trying to read all these books and scrolls, I should just hang around close to Merlione, and hope someone fires another arrow at her.

I sigh, shake my head, and get back to work, already feeling that it was a mistake not to bring some ale with me. Sitting on my own at the desk, surrounded by scrolls, makes me remember an uncomfortable occasion, many years ago, when, having failed to complete an assignment at Sorcerer's college, I was sent to study on my own while the rest of the class practiced spells in the grounds. I never did like that tutor.

After reading for two hours, I have a reasonable knowledge of Samsarinan commercial law relating to imports, some insights into the complexities of copper-mining rights, and no more idea about who might have killed Alceten than I had in the first place. There's a large candle on the main desk, marked off in hours, and it's a relief when I notice it's time to go. I leave the desk neatly arranged, so I'll know what books and scrolls I've looked at.

By the time I arrive at the tournament, Lisutaris is fretting. "Thraxas! You're late. Have you been in a tavern?"

"Of course. I had to wash the dust from these books out my mouth. When's Makri fighting?"

"In about thirty seconds."

"Did you get the bet on?"

"Yes, Makri went into Bixo's. But I'm worried. She's been drawn against Basinos."

I screw up my face. That is a tough draw. The Champion of the Southern Armies is going to be a difficult opponent. "Well, she can beat him anyway."

"I hope so," says Lisutaris. "Basinos is sponsored by Baron Mabados. Every Samsarinan Sorcerer will be on his side."

"Can't you sort these Sorcerers out?"

"I'd rather they didn't know I suspect them of using sorcery. It'll be easier for me to negate their efforts if they don't know I'm onto them."

"I think we should just confront them. Get their cheating out into the open."

"I can't take on the whole Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild, Thraxas."

"Yes you can."

"No, I don't think I can."

I clap Lisutaris heartily on the shoulder. "I have confidence in you."

"How may beers did you have?"

"Three or four. I forget exactly. Here's Makri. Right, it's time to show these villains what three Turanians can do."

"So I'm a Turanian now?" says Makri.

"Of course. We welcome anyone. Let's go."

The red-shirted Marshal is waiting for us in the centre of the field. Basinos approaches slowly from the opposite direction, and he gets the loudest cheer so far. As champion of the Southern Armies he's a well-known fighter, and if not exactly local, he is Samsarinan. It's immediately obvious that Basinos is a cut above most of the fighters we've seen in the preliminary rounds. His equipment is better; he has a nicely burnished helmet, fine chainmail over his chest and midriff, and the armour plating around his shoulders and arms is good quality work. Makri looks shabby in comparison, with her long hair tumbling out of her iron helmet. Her shield is made of plain brown leather, whereas Basinos's is bright blue, with a fancy metal boss in the centre, in the shape of a roaring lion. Basinos's sword is longer and heavier. He's ten inches taller than Makri, and looks about twice as broad. He approaches slowly, milking the applause. Makri stands motionless. The Marshal raises his flag. I retreat quickly to the side of the field, and by the time I look round, Basinos has already mounted a furious attack.

Makri defends gamely, but it's not the easiest thing to do, defending with a sword and shield if you're not used to it. If mishandled, the shield can easily pass in front of your eyes, restricting your vision. If you try to use it offensively, and get it wrong, you leave an opening for your opponent. If you're too defensive, you constrict your own movements and can't attack effectively. Conversely, it's hard to mount an effective attack against a man who knows how to defend properly with a shield, which Basinos does. Several of Makri's previous opponents left obvious gaps which she could exploit with her speed, but Basinos is of a different calibre. Makri is forced backwards, and her occasional strikes, with which she attempts to go over or under his shield, are all blocked quite easily.

Lisutaris has her arms by her side, but her palms are facing forwards. She's feeling for sorcery, ready to nullify it if necessary. There's a loud clang as Basinos's sword crashes into Makri's shield. The impact forces her back. By the time she regains her stance, Basinos, in the same offensive movement, has swung his sword beneath her shield where it slams into the chainmail protecting her thigh. The crowd roar and the Marshal raises his flag.

"Half-point to Basinos!" he cries.

By now I'm frowning. I don't think that half-point arrived as the result of hostile sorcery. It came because Basinos is a very skilled fighter. The contest recommences. Makri is again forced back. The crowd are screaming, roaring him on. He's strong and fast; one of the fastest tournament fighters I've ever seen. Somewhere nearby I can hear Baron Mabados, adding his voice to the crowd.

"Come on Makri!" I yell. Basinos attacks, again forcing Makri back. He attempts a cut across the top of Makri's shield which she blocks, but then, with the same movement he used before, he rotates his elbow, bringing his blade down towards Makri's thigh. But this time, instead of connecting with her thigh, it thuds into her shield, which Makri has immediately, and correctly, repositioned. At the same moment she slices her blade across the top of Basinos's shield which, as a result of his attack, is hanging an inch too low. Her blade snaps against his neck guard. That should be enough for a lethal stroke but Makri, not content, or not trusting the Marshal, instantly brings her sword down onto Basinos's wrist, knocking his blade from his hand, before bringing it back up in an arc to rest once more at his throat. That makes two lethal strikes, though technically you can only have one. The crowd falls silent. Basinos stands rigid, as if in shock. The Marshal looks disappointed.

"Lethal stroke," he says, eventually.

Lisutaris and I cheer, very conspicuously given the silence around us. I rush onto the field to congratulate Makri. Unusually, she's still facing her opponent.

"Good fight," she says to him. He acknowledges her, before trudging off.

"Excellent work, Makri," cries Lisutaris.

Makri takes off her helmet and shrugs. "It wasn't so great. I'd have a leg wound if this was real. He was a good fighter. " She stares at her shield. "I can't get used to this thing."

I'm jubilant as we make our way from the field. I ask Lisutaris and Makri what odds they got at the bookmakers.

"Seven to Four," Makri tells me. "Basinos was favourite, two to five."

"But we didn't bet everything," says Lisutaris."

We've used some of our money for expenses, and I've had bribes to pay, but we still had 2,500 gurans left before this fight. I'd expected Lisutaris and Makri to gamble it all.

"We decided it was too much of a risk," explains Makri. "If I'd lost we'd have had nothing left. I thought it was best to keep 1,000 back. We could have used that to bet on other fighters. Because if I lost then Lisutaris would have needed to come up with 10,000 for Lasat."

Lisutaris and Makri look at me. "Are you going to disapprove?" asks Lisutaris.

I shrug. "Not really. It was sensible enough. Although I didn't know we were being sensible. I'd have bet everything."

Big Bixo isn't exactly radiating happiness as he hands over our winnings, but he's not too downcast either. He's still made a solid profit from all the money that was placed on Basinos. Our 1,500 bet at seven to four wins us 2625. Plus the original stake makes 4125. Plus the 1,000 we held back now gives us 5125 gurans. Our pile of money includes some heavy hundred-guran coins and even a thousand-guran gold bar, which Lisutaris carries in her magic purse.

Before Makri's fight with Basinos, she was fourteen to one to win the tournament. That will come down now. Elupus remains the overall favourite, at three to one. As we leave Big Bixo's I'm mulling over our next bet.

"I think we should just bet it all."

Makri disagrees. "It's too much of a risk."

"Why? You'll win. If it was me suggesting it was too much of a risk to bet everything on you, you'd get upset. You'd say I lacked confidence in you."

"Maybe," says Makri. "But I just think we should be cautious. Something might go wrong."

"What can go wrong?"

"Hostile sorcery."

"Lisutaris can deal with that."

"So you keep saying," says Lisutaris. "Mainly because you don't know what it's like trying to fend off Lasat, Charius and a dozen others at the same time."

"I have complete confidence in you. And Makri."