Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

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 through 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."

"Does it bother you that you brought all the money into the family and now your husband controls it?"

"That's the law in Samsarina," says the Baroness.

"I know. But does it bother you?"

"I'd rather not say,' replies the Baroness.

"Dos it bother Merlione that Orgodas will inherit everything?"

"She'll be provided for. We won't just abandon our daughter. I can't see that she'd mind that Orgodas will inherit. That's what always happens. I'm not enjoying answering these questions."

"Most of my clients feel that way at some point."

"You know that several Barons have complained to my husband about you questioning their servants?"

"Barons can complain all they like. You hired me to help Merlione. That's what I'm doing."

"My husband insists you abandon the investigation."

"And?"

"I insist that you don't."

I sip my wine. I like Demelzos. I wish I had some better ideas for helping.

"How are you going to make things up to Makri?" she asks, unexpectedly.

"What?"

"I understand she's insulted you weren't there to lead her into the arena."

I stare at Demelzos, surprised. "How could you possibly know that?"

"My kitchen maid is walking out with General Hemistos's stable boy. She brings home a lot of gossip."

I shouldn't be surprised. Servants usually know everything. "I thought I'd buy her flowers."

"Flowers?" Demelzos raised her eyebrows slightly. "That doesn't seem like enough."

"Makri is very susceptible to flowers. She grew up in a gladiator slave pit and never got any presents. A bunch of flowers can have a powerful effect."

The Baroness nods. "I can understand that. I take it you've done this before?"

"Several times."

"This time you might need something better. Here - " The Baroness takes a small object from a drawer and slides it over the table. It's a notebook, I suppose, though calling it that doesn't really do it justice. The pages are made from the highest-grade vellum and it's bound in black leather, with a small queenstone jewel set in the centre, and a silver clasp to hold it shut. I doubt if even Lisutaris has anything quite this fancy to write in.

"You said she likes to study. Does she have anything nice for taking notes?"

"No one has anything this nice for taking notes."

"Give it to her," says the Baroness. "She'll forgive your offensive behaviour."

I look at her suspiciously. "Why would you care about that?"

"I don't like to see things go badly between you and your young lady."

"Makri is not my young lady."

The Baroness laughs. "Really? Then why have you been buying her flowers?"

"Unfortunate circumstances which are difficult to describe."

"How many women have you ever bought flowers for?"

"None. But you've got entirely the wrong impression."

The Baroness looks amused. It's annoying. I thank her for the book, and tell her I'd like to talk to Merlione before I leave.

"She should be in her rooms. I'll have a servant take you. It would be best if you were quick. My husband will probably be home soon. Do I owe you any more money? The retainer only covered a few days."

"It doesn't matter. You lent me more money for gambling."

"How's that going?"

"Well."

I follow Demelzos's servant though the long, white-plastered walls of her summer mansion, wondering what's got into me that I'm refusing money from a client. I glance at the book I'm carrying. Makri will probably try and break it over my head.

Here in her her own rooms, safe from stray arrows and death threats, Merlione is again the confident young woman I first encountered. There's no hint of discomfort in her eyes as she greets me. I suddenly find that irritating. Everyone else is discomfited, why shouldn't she be?

"What aren't you telling me?" I ask her.

"Pardon?"

"There's something about this affair you're not telling me. I want to know what it is."

"Why would I be withholding anything?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"It sounds like you think I'm lying," says Merlione.

"You could put it that way if you want. So what are you lying about?"

Merlione's dark eyes flash with anger. "This is ridiculous," she says. "What sort of investigator are you? I'm the one who's being threatened."

"I think you have an idea why."

"No I don't."

"I've been down all the usual channels, Merlione. Lovers, rivals, finances, family feuds, blackmail. No one's telling me anything. People don't get murdered for no reason. Well, not Baron's daughters anyway. Someone has a reason for trying to kill you and I'm starting to think you know what it is."

"I don't."

"You're lying."

Merlione's cheeks flush with anger. At least I've discomfited her. "Perhaps you're just not a very good investigator."

"I'm number one chariot at investigating. Everyone says so. Tell me what you know."

"I don't know anything."

""Do you mind that your brother inherits everything and you get nothing?"

Merlione looks at me in surprise. "What? Why would I?"

"Why wouldn't you? It's your mother's Queenstone mines that are keeping the family going. Now she's giving one to Orgodas for his wedding. And when your father dies Orgodas will inherit the rest. Does that make you angry?"

"What if it did?" Merlione's voice is raised. She's angry all right, though mostly at me. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's a clue. Tell me about it."

"It seems my father was right about you," says Merlione, regaining her composure. "You have no skills at all. You should leave."

I stare at her for a long moment, then turn round and walk out the reception room. In the hall outside there's a portrait of her father, in full military uniform. It's a poor painting. Samsarinans have never been any good at art. I'm starting to dislike them as much as Simnians.