Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

«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.»

Makri stares at me suspiciously. «I can't believe you had an affair with a Baroness.»

«She wasn't a Baroness at the time. She was a barmaid.»

«I can't believe you had an affair with a barmaid.»

«What's so strange about it? I'd just won the sword-fighting tournament. There were barmaids all over Samsarina keen to have an affair with me. Just because I don't boast about these things doesn't mean I wasn't a man for the ladies in my younger days.»

Makri shakes her head. «Are you sure you're not imagining it?»

I tap the purse I'm carrying. «You should be grateful the Baroness liked me so much. Otherwise we wouldn't have money for your armour.» I shake the purse, making the coins jangle. «I expect she's remembered me very fondly over the years.»

«You're loving this, aren't you?» says Makri, who, for some reason, seems unnecessarily scathing about the whole thing.

«I suppose it does say something about the vigorous love-making of the youthful Thraxas that she still remembers me so kindly. But I'm not bragging.»

«If Baron Mabados ever finds out he'll throw you back in the ocean.» Makri doesn't sound too displeased at the prospect.

We're walking through Elath, on our way to buy armour and weapons. Makri's preferred method of combat is to use two swords, but tournament rules stipulate that each fighter must enter the arena carrying a sword and a shield.

«A blunted sword,» mutters Makri. «What use is that?»

Weapons have to have the edge taken off before they can be used. Makri keeps grumbling about it. We walk eastwards through the town till we reach the outskirts, where tents have been set up selling all sorts of goods. Makri becomes more interested as we approach. She does like weapons, and can't help but be interested in the rows of swords, shields, helmets and so on. We're studying a display of daggers when someone claps me heartily on the back.

«Saxarth? Is that you? You old dog!»

I turn round to find myself confronted by a man a few inches shorter than me, grey haired, but wiry and vigorous.

«Combius?»

«Saxarth!» He claps me on the shoulder again. «Good to see you!»

«Saxarth?» says Makri.

«It's the name I used when I won the tournament. I was absent without leave from the army at the time. Had to disguise my identity. Makri, this is Combius of Juval. Champion the year before me, and as good a fighter as I've met.»

«I'd have been champion next year too if I hadn't been injured,» roars Combius, cheerfully. A quite untrue statement, but I let it pass.

« Saxarth is just Thraxas backwards,» says Makri. «Couldn't you come up with something better?»

«What are you doing here, Combius?»

«Selling weapons. Set myself up as an armourer after I retired from fighting.»

«Then you're just the man I've been looking for. This is Makri. She needs weapons for the tournament.»

Combius looks at Makri in surprise. «You're entering the tournament?»

«Couldn't you think of anything better than Saxarth?» asks Makri.

I purse my lips. «Could you drop the inquisition about my name? Yes, Combius, Makri is entering the tournament. She's currently bodyguard to the Head of the Sorcerers Guild and I give her every chance of doing well.»