Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

Charius the Wise is surreptitiously raising his hand, unseen by Lisutaris. I swiftly unsheathe my sword and place the tip in his midriff. «Do you think you can utter that spell before I run you through?»

The garden is now sizzling with barely suppressed sorcery. Venomous looks are exchanged in all directions. Lasat Axe of Gold claps his hands, summoning his workers, then speaks to Charius. «Come, Charius. The King is not going to be pleased to learn our work has been interrupted by a foreign Sorcerer. We'll return under his protection.»

«You'll need a lot of protection if you annoy me again!» yells Lisutaris, at his retreating figure.

I stare at Lisutaris. «What happened to tact and diplomacy?»

«That was never a very good plan. You should have given me better advice.»

«I'd advise you to find out if smoking too much magically-enhanced thazis causes mood swings.»

«Thazis,» mutters Lisutaris. «Good idea.» She starts rolling a thazis stick without bothering to check if anyone is watching. I shepherd her behind a large tree, just in case.

«I hate the Samsarinan Sorcerers,» she says.

«Don't worry,» says Makri. «I'll win the tournament. Then Lasat will have to pay you 10,000 gurans and he'll look like a fool for backing a loser.»

Lisutaris sits down on the grass, quite heavily. «I suppose so. But these arguments aren't helping the war effort. What's the point of winning money if the Orcs march in and conquer everything?»

«We could still flee to the Far West,» I suggest. «They say that right at the end of the world, you can find the Warrior's Rest .»

«What's that? Some sort of monastery?»

«No, a tavern. Sells excellent beer, apparently. They could probably do with a Sorcerer to look after things. And Makri would fit right in. Just get the chainmail bikini on again and start serving drinks.»

«I'm not ending my days as a tavern wench,» declares Makri. «I'm going to kick the Orcs out of Turai then I'm going to university.»

The young dragon appears out of the undergrowth. I tense up, ready to fight, but it seems to have become less aggressive. It waddles up to Makri, stretches its wings, then lies down beside her and goes to sleep. The dragon is now larger than a man, and must be very close to taking flight. Now that it's no longer a baby, its scales are starting to grow properly, and they're pure white. It's an unusual sight. Makri puts her arm over it protectively. She's due to fight again later in the evening, by which time the competitors will be down to sixteen. I'd like to remain here, doing nothing, but I can't. I still have investigating to do.

«Makri, would you help me at the Records Office? I just can't read through all that stuff on my own.»

«All right. If Lisutaris doesn't need me for a while.»

«It's fine, go with Thraxas,» says the Sorcerer. «I've agreed to have dinner with Kublinos. He's persistent, I'll give him that. He even pretended to like my Turanian hairstyle, even though I know the Barons' wives have been criticising it behind my back.»

Lisutaris looks round at Makri and me. There's a long pause. «Well?» she says, eventually.

«Well what?» I ask.

«You know what I mean.»

Makri looks baffled. «I don't understand.»

«How hopeless are you?» demands Lisutaris. «When I say the Barons' wives have been criticising my hairstyle, you're both meant to say my hair looks wonderful. Wasn't that obvious?»

«Sorry,» says Makri. «I'm not very good at picking up on things like that.»

«Neither am I,» I admit.

Lisutaris sighs. «I dread to think what your life was like in that tavern. Obviously you never learned any proper manners.» A maudlin expression settles over her features. «Tirini would be shocked if she saw me now. She'd say I looked a terrible mess.»

«I was thinking of Tirini too, just the other day,» I say.

«She was one of the last people we saw in Turai,» says Makri.

Tirini Snake-Smiter is, or perhaps was, a Turanian Sorcerer. She had powerful magic, but she was much more famous for her glamorous outfits and her continual appearances in the city's scandal-sheets. She was in the Avenging Axe, just before the city fell, looking after Lisutaris when she was ill. Poor Tirini was horrified to find herself in the shabby environs of my rooms above the tavern. I wasn't too pleased to see her there myself, but thinking of her now, I feel nostalgic for my old city, and depressed about its destruction.

«I wonder how many of my Guild survived?» wonders Lisutaris.

«I think there's a good chance a lot of the Sorcerers made it out.»

«If they have, none of them have managed to contact me yet.»

Makri and I depart, leaving Lisutaris to make ready for her assignation with Kublinos.

«Do you think Kublinos and Lisutaris might get married?» asks Makri, as we walk through Elath.

I notice she's looking uncomfortable. «Why? Does it bother you?»

«A bit.»

Makri, a recent arrival in the West, had very few friends in Turai, spending her time mostly working or studying. I suppose she's become friendly with Lisutaris, due to recent events, and worries about losing her. That would only leave me, and I'm always liable to get drunk and let her down.

«I can't see Lisutaris really falling for Kublinos,» I tell her. «He wears that fancy cloak. Probably not Lisutaris's type.»

«You have no idea what Lisutaris's type would be, do you?» says Makri.

«None at all. Here's the Record House. Prepare for some extended studying.»

We have two hours before we're due at the tournament fields. Upstairs in the record house, I drag another chair over to the table in the corner, then carry on reading. Makri starts working her way through the contents of the shelves on the left and I take the cabinets on the right.

«This is hopeless,» I say, after wading through a court report about some merchants who'd been swindled. «I can't take much more.»

«We've only been here ten minutes.»

«It feels like ten hours.»

«I like it. It's interesting.»

I sigh, and get back to work. I struggle through another court case concerning a merchant's complaint that he'd been cheated in a land deal, When he put up the funds for what was supposed to be a valuable Queenstone mine in the mountains, only for it to turn out worthless. I'm mildly surprised to notice that a co-signatory to the law suit is Baron Vosanos, who apparently lost a lot of money too. That will teach him to be greedy. I wonder if Baroness Demelzos knows about it. Perhaps her son isn't marrying into quite as rich a family as she thought. I turn to Makri and tell her that I really can't go on any longer. «My head's swimming with all these documents.»

Makri shrugs. «If you want justice you need to do the work.»

«Who said anything about justice? I'm earning a fee and helping Demelzos. Justice doesn't come into it.»

«Well it should. Alceten deserves justice.»

«Since when did you care about Alceten?»

«Since I discovered she was murdered and nobody cared,» says Makri.

I shake my head. Makri does get these odd ideas occasionally. She has a tendency to start going on about rights and justice, particularly where women are concerned. I blame the philosopher Samanatius. He was a bad influence.

«This is Samsarina. Justice here is in even shorter supply than it was in Turai. If it turns out that Alceten was murdered, and someone influential was responsible, then forget about justice. It'll just be covered up.»

«Then why are you even bothering to investigate?» asks Makri.

«I told you. To help the Baroness. If I can solve this, and find out who's responsible, Demelzos will be able to protect her daughter. But that's as far as it will go. I've got no great hopes of sending anyone to court for murder. Samsarina doesn't work like that. The Barons have too much power to be held to account.»