Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

«That depends on what you mean by cleared things up .»

«Can you convince Merlione that her friend wasn't murdered? And that she has no reason to worry?»

«Is that what you're expecting?»

«It's what I'm hoping for,» says the Baroness.

I notice a tempting bottle of wine on the table. The Baroness hasn't offered me any. Perhaps that's beneath her.

«I think it's quite possible that Alceten was murdered. That might mean your daughter does have reason to worry.»

Demelzos looks aghast. «Surely you're not serious?»

«I talked to people at the Royal Record House and I'm not convinced they're telling the truth. I think they've been got at, to keep quiet. Persuaded, or bribed.»

«Do you have proof of that?»

«No.»

«Any sort of evidence?»

«No.»

«So I'm to allow my family to descend into chaos because you have some vague suspicion?»

I shrug. «You don't have to allow anything. It's up to you. But you asked me to find out if there was any truth in Merlione's suspicions, and I think there might be.»

Demelzos sits down, very troubled. «What can I possibly tell my husband?»

«I take it he doesn't know you hired me?»

«No. And he's not going to be pleased to learn.» The Baroness shakes her head. «Thraxas, are you really sure about this? If Merlione's in danger, then I have to protect her, but it's going to cause an awful lot of trouble.»

«I think there was something suspicious about Alceten's death. Whether that means Merlione's in danger too, I can't say for sure. It might have nothing to do with your daughter. She might just have arrived there at the wrong time. But your daughter did think the carriage was trying to run her down as well, so I'd say you should take the threat seriously.»

Demelzos reaches out, picks up the bottle, and fills two silver goblets with wine. She passes one to me. «What do I do now?»

«Keep Merlione safe and out of sight while I do some more investigating.»

«What if you can't find out anything?»

«I will,» I say, and finish my wine quickly. «I'll need to talk to Alceten's father. I understand he's an important official.»

«Cetenos? He is fairly important, I suppose.»

«Would you give me a letter of introduction? It will make my life easier.»

The Baroness hesitates. «If I do that, everyone will soon know I've hired you to investigate.»

«Is that a problem?»

«The King's Chief Steward already made enquiries. Me hiring you is like telling everyone I don't trust him.»

«He's going to know that soon enough anyway, because I'll be talking to him too.»

The Baroness's brow creases with worry.

«I could get by without the letter of introduction.»

Baroness Demelzos thinks for a moment. «I'm not having my daughter's life put in danger for fear of a scandal.» She claps her hands and a servant hurries into the room. «Bring writing materials,» she says. «And my official seal.»

Returning to Arichdamis's house with Demelzos's letter of introduction in my pocket, I pass the Jolly Bandit, an attractive-looking tavern with light and music spilling from the shutters. Minstrels are playing a lusty drinking song. I can hear the crowd banging their tankards as they join in with the chorus. I sigh. There's nothing I'd like better than to join in with a drinking song, and get a few ales inside me. Unfortunately, I don't have a guran to my name. I shake my head at the injustice of it, and carry on slowly up the road. I'm in no hurry to get home. Arichdamis has been miserable since his plans went missing, and Lisutaris is no better. I hope Makri has stopped crying.

«Damn it,» I say out loud. «Not crying was one of her only good points. What am I meant to say to her now?»

Makri knows I can't cope with women crying. We've discussed it. It wouldn't surprise me if Lisutaris has joined in. She's been as miserable as a Niojan whore all day. I'm slightly heartened by the thought of Arichdamis's cellars. They've been severely depleted since I moved in, but I can probably find a pie or two down there, and a bottle of Elvish wine. With luck, I can sneak them off to my room without encountering anyone.

«Maybe it won't be so bad,» I mutter, fumbling with my key in the unfamiliar lock. «Maybe they've pulled themselves together.»

I enter the house and practically trip over Lisutaris, who's lying on the floor. Obviously she hasn't pulled herself together. At least she doesn't seem to be crying. The hallway is enveloped in the sort of thick haze that can only be produced by the most determined of thazis smokers.

«Ah, Thraxas. My Chief Adviser. A Chief Adviser who's full of good advice. Whatever Thraxas advises, you'd best do it. He is my Chief Adviser, after all.»

«Is something wrong?»

Lisutaris drags herself into a sitting position. «I'm being mocked on all sides and I'm about to become the poorest woman in the West. Apart from that, everything's fine.»

«Makri can recover. She's not out of the tournament yet.»

Lisutaris shakes her head. «Help me up.»

I take hold of Lisutaris by her shoulders and drag her to her feet, then help her along to the main guest room where she collapses on a couch.

«You know, smoking all this thazis isn't helping,» I say.

«I'm the Head of the Sorcerers Guild. I'll smoke whatever I want.»

«Where's Makri?»

«In the gardens, breaking things with her axe.»

Lisutaris yawns, then closes her eyes. I gaze at her, wondering if it's really such a great idea to have this woman lead our armies against the Orcs. Lasat might be a fool but at least he’s conscious most of the time. Actually, he probably isn’t, not with his dwa habit. Damn these Sorcerers. Can’t they stay sober for five minutes?

I take my illuminated staff out into the gardens. A familiar smells fills my nostrils. I frown, and follow the aroma till I find Makri, prostrate on the grass. The dragon is curled up beside her, sleeping. On the ground beside Makri there's a cheap tin box with a hole on top, blackened by flames. It's the sort of device you use to burn and inhale dwa. I'm appalled at the discovery. I've no idea where she might have procured the drug. It's unbelievably foolish behaviour. Apart from the inherent dangers, it would probably mean execution if the authorities learned of it. If the King doesn't like thazis, that's nothing to what he thinks about the much more powerful dwa.

I bend down and pick Makri up. The dragon stirs, but doesn't waken. I take her indoors and along to the guest room where I lay her on another couch, next to Lisutaris.

«This is all going to end badly,» I mutter.

The nights aren't yet warm. I take the thick, embroidered cloth that hangs on the back of each couch and cover both of the slumbering figures. Still carrying my illuminated staff, I head down to the cellars. A brief examination reveals a side of roast beef, a half-round of goat's cheese, and a cask of ale.

«I'm surrounded by fools,» I say, as I open the cask. «Dragging me down, as always.» I get busy on the beef, the cheese, and the ale, meanwhile cursing my misfortune at being saddled with such useless companions.

I wake with a neck-ache from sleeping on the hard stone floor. I soon discover I have a headache too. As I drag myself upright to negotiate my way out of the gloomy cellar, I clatter into some empty wine bottles. I don't remember drinking wine. Must have seemed like a good idea after the beer. My head is pounding. Even a champion drinker such as myself can suffer the occasional mild hangover from mixing ale and Elvish wine, and I seem to have made a reasonable attempt at emptying Arichdamis's cellars. I need a Lesada leaf. The Elvish plant is highly effective against hangovers. I realise I have a raging thirst. I stumble my way up the rest of the stairs and barge into the kitchen. There's a young cook, busy at the range. Ignoring his protests, I commandeer the bucket of fresh water by his side, drinking freely then ducking my head in the remainder.