Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

Chapter Nine

A few hours later, back in Kublinos's mansion to pack up our meagre belongings, Makri is complaining. "I don't want to look after a dragon."

"Look on the bright side," I say. "We all get to move into Arichdamis's house which is a lot better than this servant's attic. You've got plenty of space to practise your sword fighting and Lisutaris can smoke thazis till her heart's content."

"It's certainly fortuitous," agrees Lisutaris. "As long as you can keep that dragon happy I'll be in good standing with the King. And there's the tournament too. If you can win that it'll really boost my status."

Makri frowns. "How is that everything seems to be resting on my shoulders?"

"Just the way things work out," says Lisutaris, amiably.

Makri continues to grumble. I point out that it won't be that hard looking after the dragon. "Just tickle it behind the ear and throw some meat at it. It can't be that hard."

"He tried to bit your hand off."

It's true. The creature did not take kindly to being stroked by me. I was fortunate to escape with my fingers still attached. It doesn't seem to like anyone except Makri. It's a strange phenomenon, though one I have encountered before. When we visited the Fairy Glade together, the centaurs, fairies, and assorted other magical creatures all seemed keen on Makri.

"What if its mother comes back?" says Makri.

We fall silent, thinking about the huge white dragon that flew overhead while we were sailing up the river. While we don't have any proof that it was our dragon's mother, it seems likely. According to Arichdamis, the baby dragon was found, as an egg, by a scientific expedition to the furthest reaches of the mountains in north. They handed it over to the King, who then gave it to Arichdamis with the instructions to rear it. Possibly he has some scheme to be the first western monarch to control dragons. It seems like a foolish endeavour to me. The King of Turai once had a dragon in his zoo, and that ended very badly.

"What's the idea of telling the King you're my manager?" continues Makri.

"I had to say that. I wasn't going to be left behind in this attic. Anyway, it's true enough. If you're entering the tournament you'll need someone to look after your affairs. I can do that. Which brings us to our first problem; money. There's the entrance fee, and you'll need weapons and armour, which aren't cheap. Lisutaris, can you help?"

The Sorceress shakes her head. She's still living on charity from Kublinos. "I can't ask him for any more."

"Why not?"

"It would be demeaning."

"So?"

"It's hardly going to increase my status if people know I've been begging money to buy armour for my bodyguard, is it?"

"I suppose not. Well, I'll have to think of something. There's the gambling to consider as well."

Lisutaris nods sagely. "Of course, we must bet on Makri. If only I could earn something. Would it affect my status if I took on some private work?"

"Yes it would," declares Makri. "You're Head of the Guild. You can't be casting horoscopes to raise cash. Thraxas, if you're betting on me I want a fair share of the winnings. And none of your outlandish, risk-filled gambles either. I want a solid, practical betting strategy."

I smile. As I said, Makri is nowhere near as averse to gambling as she pretends. "Have I ever let you down?"

"Almost continually."

It strikes me that I could probably earn money in Elath. "There has to be some crime going on here, with Barons, sword-fighters and assorted gamblers in town. Perhaps I could find something that needs investigating."

Lisutaris stands up and cranes her neck to examine herself in the tiny mirror on the attic wall. "There's something wrong with this dress," she mutters. "The clasp at the neck isn't fastening properly."

Makri stands behind Lisutaris and attempts to rectify the situation, but quickly becomes frustrated. "I can't close it. How does it work?'"

I raise my eyes to heaven. If you're having problems in the female costuming department, Makri is never going to be any help.

"Step aside and let a civilised Turanian look at it," I say, and brush Makri aside. "The clasp is jammed."

"We know that already," says Lisutaris.

"Let me try again," says Makri.

"What with? Your axe? Not every problem can be solved by violence."

I take hold of the clasp and give it a tug. Nothing happens. I pull it harder. The clasp rips right out of the dress which then flops down around Lisutaris's waist. Makri bursts out laughing. At this moment Kublinos walks into the room. Seeing Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, with her dress around her waist, he looks surprised.

"What is… eh…?"

"Come Makri, let's go to my room and see if we can repair the damage," says Lisutaris. They disappear. Kublinos looks at me very suspiciously.

"What was that all about?"

"Just a little clothing problem."

"Was it you who ripped Lisutaris's dress?"

"Accidentally."

His eyes narrow. "I have to say, Thraxas, your attempts to win the favour of Lisutaris are quite inappropriate. Apart from your unsuitable character, there's the difference in class to be considered."

Before I can protest, he rushes on.

"Just because you rescued Lisutaris - or claim to have - doesn't give you the right to inflict yourself on her. I've seen the way you operate and I don't like it at all."

Faced with an angry and apparently insane Sorcerer, I'm starting to think it's a good thing I'm wearing a powerful spell protection necklace. Kublinos's idea that I'm somehow trying attach myself to Lisutaris is so ridiculous I barely know how to answer.

"You're forever whispering in her ear, trying to worm your way into her affections. No doubt you persuaded her to move with you to Arichdamis's house so you can carry on your deceitful campaign unhindered." He leans towards me. "I'm warning you Thraxas, I've got plenty of spells just waiting to be used on any shameless adventurer with his eyes on Lisutaris's fortune."

There's no telling how this might end, but we're interrupted by the arrival of a servant. Apparently I'm wanted downstairs. I depart immediately, grateful for the interruption. There I find another servant, a young man wearing a fancy tunic with an unnecessary amount of gold braid.

"Thraxas? Baroness Demelzos wishes to see you."

This takes me by surprise. I'd have guessed she'd happily live out her life without ever seeing me again. I shrug, and follow the servant into the narrow streets that separate the Baronial dwellings of Elath. Every few steps we pass by some richly attired group of aristocrats. Rarely can so many lords and Barons have been crammed together in such a small space. The servant stops in front of a smart carriage, with two horses in front and dark curtains on the windows. The servant checks the street to make sure no one's looking at us.

"In there," he says.

The door opens. I step inside. It's a plush carriage, upholstered in purple with silver trimmings. Inside is Baroness Demelzos.

"Please shut the door."

I do as she says, then take a seat opposite her. We sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Nice carriage," I say, eventually.

She looks irritated. "You have no manners, have you?"

"Not many."

"You never did have."

I raise an eyebrow. "Have we met?"

"You mean before you mistook me for a serving wench in Orosis?"

Baroness Demelzos looks more irritated. I'm starting to wonder if she just got me here so she could have someone to be irritated at.

"Why were you so appallingly rude? And drunk?"

"I'd just come off an eight-day stint in a boat with no sails. Before that I'd been chased out my city by Orcs. I felt I deserved a beer or two."

"You always did drink too much. Even as a young man you had a problem." Baroness Demelzos leans over slightly and fixes me with an unfriendly stare. "I never expected you to treasure my memory, Thraxas, but I didn't think you'd completely forget me."

I look at her blankly. "Who are you?"

"I'm Demmy, the barmaid you had an affair with after you won the tournament." She sits back heavily. "I expect you forgot about me within a week."

This is all quite a shock. I did have a brief liaison with a barmaid while I was in Samsarina. That was more than twenty years ago. "You're Demmy? Well dammit, how was I meant to recognise you?"

"I haven't changed that much," said Demelzos. She eyes my waistline. "Unlike you."

"But you were a barmaid. I wasn't expecting you to become a Baroness. How did that happen?"

"My father left his job in the mine and went up north to prospect for queenstone. He made the richest strike anyone ever saw. Two years after you left Samsarina I was the wealthiest young woman in the country. Soon after that I was a member of aristocracy. The Barons are an exclusive class, but a young woman with enough money is tempting for anyone."

The Baroness is wearing a queenstone necklace, and even inside the carriage, with the curtains drawn, the blue stones sparkle. It's a very precious material, only found in Samsarina as far as I know.

"So what's it like being married to Baron Mabados?"

"Better than being a barmaid. How did life treat you?"

"Twenty years soldiering, then I ended up living in a tavern in the bad part of town."

Demelzos was an attractive barmaid, as I recall, and she hasn't lost much in the way of looks. Her long brown hair hangs freely over her shoulders, in the style of the local noblewomen, with two slender braids looping round to meet at the nape of her neck where they're joined by a silver clasp. Though the weather is becoming milder, she hasn't abandoned her fur cape, which is luxurious, even by the normal standards of fur capes. Her shoes, while neither as extravagant nor as high-heeled as those worn by the fashionable women of Turai, are stitched with gold thread. I'd say she hasn't done too badly for herself.

"I'm guessing you'd didn't ask me here to discuss old times," I say.

"I didn't. Though if I did, I'd have something to say about the way you left without saying goodbye."

"I had to get back to my regiment. I was absent without leave."

"You could have said goodbye."

"Sorry. As a young man, I may have been lacking in manners."

"Have they improved?"

"Not really."

I'm feeling discomfited by the encounter. It's hard to know the right tone to take with a Baroness you knew as a barmaid.

"I'm told you call yourself an investigator," she says. "What do you do exactly?"

"I find out things for people."

"What sort of people?"

"All sorts. Poor people who can't afford a good lawyer. Rich people who don't want a good lawyer knowing the sort of trouble they're in. People who've got on the wrong side of someone powerful." I pause, waiting for her to speak. She remains silent. "Do you fall into one of these categories?"

"How do you find things out? Sorcery?"

"I don't know enough sorcery to tell what day it is."

"Didn't you go to the Sorcerer's college? I remember you used to talk about it."

"It never worked out."

"So how do you find things out?"

"Mostly by trudging around asking questions that other people can't be bothered to ask. It would save time if you told me what the problem is."

Demelzos muses for a while longer. It's a comfortable carriage. I don't mind waiting. It gives me some time to digest the fact that the young barmaid I had a brief affair with went on to become a Baroness. Maybe I should have stuck around till she became rich.

"My daughter thinks someone is trying to kill her," she says, eventually.

"Are they?"

"I don't think so. Why would anyone try to kill a Baron's daughter?"

"Baron have enemies, I suppose."

"Probably," agrees the Baroness. "But I can't see any reason they'd trouble my daughter Merlione. But ever since the accident she's been scared."

I lean forward. "Accident?"

"Her friend Alceten was killed by a runaway carriage. Merlione saw it happen. She'd gone to meet her at the Royal Record House. Alceten's father was the Record Keeper. She came out the building, waved to my daughter, and then she was struck down by a carriage. It was a terrible accident. Alceten's family is distraught. But that's all it was, an accident."

"Merlione doesn't think so?"

Baroness Demelzos shakes her head. "She's convinced it was deliberate. Worse, she thinks she's next."

"Were there any other witnesses?"

"I think so. Daringos, the King's Chief Steward, did carry out an enquiry. If there'd been any hint of foul play I'm sure it would have been discovered." The Baroness sighs. Briefly, she looks older. "My daughter just won't accept it was an accident. She's a quiet girl…" The Baroness's voice tails off.

"You mean quiet and sensible, or quiet and neurotic?"

"My daughter is not neurotic."

"So she's sensible?"

"I'd say so. And she's good-natured, and intelligent. I love her dearly. I'm sure she's in no danger but I hate to see her frightened. Do you think you could talk to her? Just in case there's anything in it?"

I mull things over for a little while. Outside I can hear the civilised tread of passing Barons, and the voices of their children.

"Is it difficult being married to a Baron? After growing up poor?"

"Isn't that rather an impertinent question?"

"Probably."

"My marriage to Mabados has been generally successful."

Generally successful doesn't sound like the warmest description of a marriage I've ever heard. Sensing my doubts, Demelzos takes the opportunity to ask if I ever managed to stay in one place long enough to get married.

"I did."

"And?"

"Complete disaster."

"Any children?"

"No. No property either."

The Baroness smiles. It makes her look younger, more like the barmaid I remember.

"What does the Baron say about all this?"

"He doesn't believe any of it. I can't really blame him, it all sounds so unlikely. It's putting a strain on my family. My daughter's refusing to leave the house. She wouldn't come with us to Orosis. My husband was furious."

"It must be awkward, with the wedding coming up."

"It is. If she's not at her brother's wedding, people will talk. Baronesses can be very vindictive with their gossip. Do you think you can help?"

"Yes. I can."

The Baroness fishes around in her bag. "How much do you charge?"

"Thirty gurans a day. But you don't have to pay me."

"That's gallant. I don't remember you being gallant. Weren't there some questions asked about your tactics in the tournament?"

I grin. "One or two. But I still won. You don't need to pay me."

Demelzos smiles. She's pleased I'm not charging her.

"But you could lend me some money."

Demelzos looks startled, and then laughs. "That's more like the man I remember. What do you need a loan for?"

I explain that I need money for Makri to enter the tournament.

"The Orc woman?"

"Yes. Though she wouldn't like you calling her that."

"Can she fight?"

"Champion of the Orcish gladiator pits."

"But she's just a skinny young girl."

"True. But she's part Orc, part Human, and part Elf. That's meant to be impossible, but she managed it somehow. The mixed blood's done something strange to her. It makes her move faster than anyone else. She likes fighting too, which makes a difference. But we need money for armour and weapons."

"And then there's your betting to consider, I imagine?"

"You don't seem to have forgotten much about me. Yes, I may place a few bets."

"So which one of the women is yours?" she asks, while counting out coins.

"What?"

"The Orc girl or the Sorceress? Who's you lover?"

"Neither. I gave up on women when my marriage fell apart."

Demelzos plainly doesn't believe me, but lets it pass.

"How much do you need?"

"For Makri? About two hundred."

Demelzos hands me three hundred gurans. Twelve heavy gold coins.

"That should keep you going. Make sure the Baron never hears about it."