Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I wake early the next morning. My body aches. I feel old and battered. I'm debating whether or not to go back to sleep when Makri pokes her head into my room.

"Are we going investigating?"

"Why are you up so early?"

Makri shrugs. "I'm feeling better."

"I'm not." I haul myself out of bed, and glare at Makri. She ask me what I'm looking annoyed about.

"You. When I won the tournament I celebrated for a week. It would have been longer if me and Demmy the barmaid hadn't been arrested for indecency in the fountain. But here you are, sober and healthy. You even went to bed early. It's not right."

"I didn't feel much like celebrating."

I scramble around collecting my boots and sword. I ask Makri if she'll grab some food from the kitchen or cellar while I get ready. I suppose it's as well that Makri is sober. I need her help today. But it goes against the grain that she didn't celebrate. Anyone else would have.

"I have something for you before we go," says Makri.

"What?"

She hands me a bright new Elvish sword. "This was part of my prize for winning the tournament. I have two good swords already, so you can have it."

I take the sword. It's a valuable item, and a much better weapon than my current blade. It's a very fine gift. I look at Makri. I have no idea how to thank her properly. I feel awkward, and lost for words. Perhaps her strategy of bursting into tears and running out the room isn't such a bad idea.

"Let's go," says Makri.

Outside I commandeer Lisutaris's carriage. "We need to hurry. Demelzos's son is due to get married later today. I'd like to solve this before that happens."

"Is there any chance of that?" asks Makri. "I didn't know you were close."

"I've got a good idea what's going on. Demelzos's daughter Merlione is interfering with her son's inheritance in some way. I don't know how, but she is."

Makri looks puzzled. "How do you know that?"

"Nothing else fits. Merlione's brother's getting married into Baron Vosanos's family, and he's taking a chunk of money with him. Vosanos needs that money badly. Somehow Merlione's spoiling things. That's what her friend Alceten discovered. That's why she was killed, and that's why someone's been trying to kill Merlione."

"I suppose it would make sense," says Makri. "But aren't you just guessing?"

"No. I'm sure. More so since I learned that Zinlantol at the Royal Record House is a cousin of Magranos, Baron Vosanos's Chief Steward."

We share some bread on the way. Makri hands me a bottle she brought from the kitchen. I take a drink.

"Water?"

"What did you expect for breakfast?"

I shake my head in disgust. When we arrive at the Record House I leave the carriage outside and march past the guards without looking at them. Inside the Record House, Zinlantol is sitting behind her desk, as always. When I approach, she regards me with loathing. A lot of people have done that recently.

"Did you pass information about Alceten's work to your cousin Magranos?"

"I have nothing to say to you!" says Zinlantol. She stands up quickly and disappears through the door behind her, into some private staff area.

"I'd say she was," I mutter to Makri, as we make our way upstairs. "She was already getting rid of evidence about the Baron's debts, destroying the papers. When she learned that Alceten had discovered something that was going to cost Baron Vosanos a lot of money, she passed that on to her cousin too."

Upstairs, the corner where Alceten was working is still surrounded by books and scrolls, many of which I haven't even opened yet. I pick up the large book of Samsarinan Commercial Law and hand it to Makri.

"This is the book that was out of place. Alceten might have been reading it before she was killed. Go through it and see if there's anything relevant. I'll make a start on the scrolls."

"How long do we have?"

"About three hours."

"I can't get through this in three hours."

"Do your best."

We sit down and read. As soon as I pick up a scroll I start to remember how much I ache. These Samsarinan Sorcerers really gave me a battering. I glance through the scroll, find nothing relevant, throw it to one side and pick up another. The Law of Tort regarding Interference to Property Rights with Regard to Trespass by Hostile Orcs. I shake my head. Already my eyes are starting to swim. Can't these legal clerks make their writing a little bigger? I put the scroll to one side, being fairly sure that no Orcs have been interfering with local property. I notice Makri has gone off to the far end of the room, where she's hunting through cabinets. I pick up another scroll. It deals with property disputes between Barons and their subjects in times of famine. Again, it's so densely written I can barely read it. I struggle on for as long as I can, then shake my head in despair. I'm beaten. If there's some legal secret here, we're not going to find it.

"Found it," says Makri.

"What?"

"Alceten made a note in the third appendix of the law book. It referred to another book from three centuries ago. I've just read the relevant part."

"And?"

"It referred me to another legal tract. I found that too."

"Are you ever going to come to the point?"

"Listen." Makri reads from a very old scroll. "In memory of Queen Eferinis, who first discovered queenstone, and arrayed her daughters splendidly in jewels, all queenstone will pass from mother to daughter, and be inherited in the female line."

I take the scroll from Makri. "This was drafted by King Moslos. He reigned about six hundred years ago. Could it still be current?"

"I suppose so, if it was never repealed. Everyone must have forgotten about it till Alceten came across it."

"Alceten discovered that Merlione should inherit her mother's Queenstone mines." I produce a magic purse from my tunic pocket.

"Where did you get that?" asks Makri.

"I borrowed it from Lisutaris while she was still sleeping. Let's go. We have to stop a wedding."

We smuggle the relevant documents out of the Record House using the magic pocket, then ride swiftly towards Baroness Demelzos's mansion. Outside the mansion are numerous carriages, ready to carry the family to the wedding.

"Have you ever destroyed a wedding before?" asks Makri.

"Once or twice. It never goes down well."

A servant at the gate tries to get in our way. I brush him aside. "Thraxas of Turai, Chief Adviser to Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky. Here as guest of Baroness Demelzos."

Inside, the house is in the sort of uproar you'd expect when the eldest son of an important family is about to get married. Though neither I nor Makri look like wedding guests, everyone is too busy with their own problems to pay us much attention. I lead Makri upstairs to the Baroness's reception rooms. I burst in to find the Baroness having her hair done by two servants.

"Thraxas! How dare you burst in when - "

"Sorry Baroness. I have important news." I look pointedly at the servants. The Baroness dismisses them with a nod of her head.

"Well?"

"Someone from Baron Vosanos's household has been trying to kill Merlione. Whether it's the Baron himself, or his steward, I don't know. But they're responsible." I take the scroll from the magic purse. "By ancient law, Merlione inherits your queenstone mines, not your son. Baron Vosanos is bankrupt. He's depending on your son bringing wealth into his family. But your son will only be wealthy if Merlione is dead." I hand the scroll to the Baroness.

"But this is so old," she says.

"I think it's still legal. Alceten was killed because she discovered it. The Baron knew all about her work because his Chief Steward has a cousin in the Record House. She was keeping him up to date with Alceten's research."

"I really can't believe Baron Vosanos would try to kill my daughter."

"I don't know if he's directly responsible. More likely he just asked his Steward Magranos to deal with the problem. Magranos is capable of arranging a murder. He tried to arrange mine. If your son marries into that family, I don't think your daughter will ever be safe."

Baroness Demelzos calls for her servants and asks them if her husband has left the house yet. Part of his role in the wedding is to escort his son to the church. They tell her he's almost on the point of setting off.

"Wait here," the Baroness says, then hurries off. Makri and I are left alone in the reception room. I pour myself a glass of wine.

"What now?" says Makri.

"Either the Baron believes me and cancels the wedding, or he decides I'm a liar and throws me out. Either way, I've done all I can."

Makri reaches for the decanter, and winces with pain. She can still feel the effects of the fight, even if she's pretending she can't. We sip wine from silver goblets, waiting for the Baroness to return. After almost an hour, we're still waiting.

"Is she coming back?"

"Doesn't look like it." I rise from my chair. "Let's go home."

I ask a servant outside to tell Baroness Demelzos that we've departed. The house is still bustling with activity, but I can sense apprehension among the scurrying servants and tradesmen. They know something's wrong. Makri takes the reigns as we drive home. We pass a squadron of heavily armed troops who've just arrive in Elath. From Hadassa in the South, I think, judging by their armour. Many more troops should be arriving soon.

"Enormous human!"

"Did someone just shout enormous human?" asks Makri.

"I think so."

"They must be referring to you." Makri halts the carriage and we look around. Running towards us with a great grin on her face is a slender young Elf with spiky yellow hair and a broad grin. I recognise her. It's Sendroo, from the Elvish Isle of Avula.

"Hello Thraxas! Hello Makri!"

"Droo? What are you doing here?"

"I sailed up with the advance party. I'm a messenger in the Elvish Reconnoissance Regiment!"

"You are?" Last time I saw Droo, who's around eighteen I think, she was a poet, and quite an intoxicated one at that. I wasn't expecting her to pop up in Samsarina, dressed in the dull-green tunic and leggings of an Elvish Scout. You meet all sorts of unexpected people in wartime.

"Yes! Isn't it fun? What are you doing here?"

"We're refugees from Turai," I tell her.

"But we're going back," says Makri.

"It's so good to see you again! I can't really talk now, my platoon is marching up to see the King. Tell me where you live and I'll come and visit!"

Makri smiles at Droo. "It will be good to see you."

We give Droo our address. She runs off up the street after her platoon, still grinning. She's carrying a bow on her back, and a sheaf full of arrows. I shake my head. I'm not sure that having Droo in the Elvish advance party fills me with confidence. At least it means the Elvish troops are on their way.

When we arrive back at Arichdamis's house, Lisutaris is stepping out of an unfamiliar carriage. As soon as she sees us she scowls and yells at us. "What's the idea of stealing my carriage?"

"We needed it," I say. "I had to see Baroness Demelzos in a hurry."

"Does this have anything to do with the wedding being cancelled?"

"It was cancelled?"

"Yes. I and about four hundred of the Samsarinan aristocracy were left waiting in church like a bunch of idiots, till Baron Mabados finally arrived and announced the wedding couldn't go ahead due to family illness. A very sudden attack, apparently. I presume that's not the real reason?"

"No. I'll tell you about it inside."

A little later, while relating the string of brilliant deductions and unrelenting hard work that led to me solving the case, I can't help noticing that Lisutaris seems distracted. I ask her what's the matter.

"Kublinos. He's arriving soon to take me to dinner. I don't want to go."

"You're not relying on him for money any more," I point out. I take out Lisutaris's magic purse, ignore her protests about me borrowing it without asking, and pour 31,500 gurans onto the table. It's a hefty pile of cash, even though some of it is made up of 1,000 guran gold bars.

"We actually ended up with 34,582," I tell them. "But I paid back the Baroness the three hundred she staked us. I offered her a bigger cut, but she wouldn't take it. I'm giving Arichdamis 282 gurans to make up for the damage to his cellars. And I gave 2,500 gurans to the local Saint Quatinius's hospital for the poor. When we were on that boat, I did promise I'd donate something if we made it back to shore."

I'm expecting some complaints about this, particularly from the heathen Makri, but none are forthcoming. Makri and Lisutaris seem content that I've made the donation. We have had a lot of luck recently; perhaps some saint has been looking after us.

"So that gives us 10,500 gurans each. No need to thank me for my brilliant betting campaign. Though it does strike me you won't be collecting your winnings from Lasat, which is unfortunate."

"That's the only unfortunate thing about his death," says Lisutaris. "Anyway, thanks for the brilliant betting campaign. It's good to have money and not be relying on Kublinos. But I can hardly just tell him to go away, can I? Not after he's been so generous."

"Of course you can," says Makri. "Just tell him you're not interested."

"That's easy for you to say," says Lisutaris. "I don't see you telling General Hemistos to go away, even though you want to."

"I'm not very good at these things. Is he coming here with Kublinos?"

Lisutaris nods. Makri looks worried. "Thraxas, could you tell Kublinos and Hemistos we're not really interested?"

"Absolutely no chance," I say. "If you can't deal with unwanted attention that's your problem. And if Kublinos and Hemistos are headed here, I'm off to the Jolly Bandit for a civilised drop of ale."

I leave the house but haven't travelled very far when I hear the clatter of Lisutaris's fancy shoes on the cobblestones. Both she and Makri have apparently decided to flee the scene rather than face their prospective suitors.

"This is really pathetic," I tell them, as they catch up. "Two grown women who can't cope with a little personal problem."

"Shut up and get inside the tavern before they get here," says Lisutaris, hurrying into the Jolly Bandit. Not a place which will do much for her status, I'd say, though perhaps it doesn't matter so much any more, now she's been chosen as War Leader. As soon as we're inside, a waitress hurries over, recognising me as a valuable customer. I order beer for myself, and wine for Lisutaris and Makri.

"Incidentally, Lisutaris. Are you still wondering about Arichdamis's plans?'

"The ones that were stolen? Of course."

"Well check in you magic purse. In the seventh compartment."

The Sorceress frowns, and fishes around inside her purse. Finally she emerged with the plans in her hand.

"How did these get here?"

"They've been there all the time," I tell her. "No one stole them. You just put them in there when you'd been smoking thazis and forgot all about it."

Makri laughs. Lisutaris looks embarrassed.

"You really should cut down on your intake," I tell her. "You're War Leader now. You can hardly expect the combined armies of the West to march off to war behind a woman who doesn't know what she's got in her purse. It's hardly re-assuring."

"Be quiet," says Lisutaris. "Sorceresses never know what they have in their purses. We're famous for it."

"What will happen with the Baroness and her daughter now?" asks Makri.

"Nothing, I imagine. Baron Mabados will keep pretending his son is sick till eventually everyone forgets about the wedding. It's a tactful way of getting out of it. Vosanos and his family won't be pleased, but they won't say anything in public."

"So it will just be hushed up?"

"Yes. Barons aren't going to start accusing each other of trying to murder family members. It would make them all look bad in front of the peasants. The King wouldn't like it."

Makri thinks about this for a few moments. "But what about Alceten?"

"What about her?"

"She was murdered. Is no one going to be put on trial for that?"

"No. It will never even be acknowledged as a murder."

"Who was responsible?"

"That's hard to say. Zinlantol was keeping Magranos informed about Alceten. So I suppose she started it all off."

"But who actually killed her?"

I shrug. "Someone small enough to hide themselves in the front of the carriage that ran her over. I doubt I'd ever be able to find out who that was. They're probably not in Elath any more. Magranos will have hired some thug and then made sure he disappeared quickly."

"So this Magranos," says Makri. "He's the person who gave the order to kill her?"

"Most probably. But there's no way of getting evidence. Even if there was, the King would suppress it."

Makri isn't satisfied. She doesn't like it that a young woman was murdered and no one will be brought to justice.

"Will Baron Vosanos be going to war?"

"Yes."

"Will his steward Magranos be going with him?"

"I suppose so."

"If I meet him, I'll make him pay," says Makri, menacingly.

"Thraxas!" cries a loud, booming voice. "I hoped I'd find you here." Baron Girimos claps me on the shoulder. He's looking portly, healthy, and in the mood for beer. "Damnedest thing just happened. Was all dressed up for a wedding and then it was cancelled. Wife and her relatives are all complaining about it now, my house is nightmare. I had to escape. Waitress - beer, klee and the contents of your kitchen over here, if you please!"

The Baron has already met Lisutaris, and greets her politely. When he recognises Makri, he congratulates her very warmly on her victory in the tournament. "Good technique," he says. "Not surprised, with Thraxas teaching you. Good man, Thraxas. Fought with the Turanian Phalanxes at Blackwing Rise. Of course, he'd never have got out of there alive if my cavalry hadn't rescued him.

"Nonsense!" I exclaim. "My phalanx arrived just in time to prevent your cavalry from being massacred."

Girimos laughs heartily. "Your memory's shaky again. Look, we were here - " The Baron starts arranging pepper pots and cutlery to represent troop placements. " - and you were there. The Orcish Fourth Infantry were over there and the Sixth were coming up the hill with a dragon behind them - "

"That wasn't the Sixth Orcish Infantry," says Makri. "It was the Ninth."

"What?" We look at her in surprise. "How would you know anything about it?"

"My Orcish Lord was leading them," says Makri. "I heard him talk about it, often. Look - " Makri starts re-arranging the cutlery. " - I'll show you what happened. The Ninth Orcish infantry were here, at the river bank - "

"They can't have been there," says the Baron. "That's where the Turanian Sorcerers were trapped."

"I beg your pardon?" says Lisutaris. "Trapped? What's this about the Turanian Sorcerers being trapped?"

"They were pinned down by heavy archery," says the Baron. "I remember it well."

"Nonsense," cries Lisutaris. "Age must be affecting your memory. I was there that day as a young Sorcerer on my first campaign. The way I remember it, the phalanxes were hopelessly pinned down by dragons on the south of the slope, and the cavalry were trapped on the north by the Agban Orcish Sorcerers Guild. If I hadn't led the Turanian Sorcerers through the middle neither of you would ever have made it out alive."

"Led the Sorcerers?" I say. "I thought you were a young Sorcerer on your first campaign?"

"Our commander, Agbereth Red-Flame, was killed by a dragon so I took charge. I stepped up and told the other Sorcerers We're going up that hill or we'll die in the attempt!'"

"Your Sorcerers were trapped on the river bank till my phalanx saved the day!"

"Preposterous," says Lisutaris. "Give me that pepper pot, I'll show you what happened." She turns her head to call to the waitress. "Bring me another goblet of wine while I show these memory-impaired old campaigners how I saved their lives at Blackwing Rise. Better still, send over the bottle. It may take a while."



The End