Martin Scott - Thraxas Under Siege (ARC)

Turai's morale isn't helped by the fruitless hunt in Twelve Seas. Next day the story is all over the city that Orcs were inside the walls and somehow escaped. In fact, Makri and I were the only people who did meet an Orc, and he was a lone Assassin, not an invasion force. I inform Lisutaris, but she's still so sick I'm not certain that she takes it in properly. I sent a message to Cicerius outlining what happened, and another message to Captain Rallee. The Captain picked up the body before anyone found it, preventing the city's population from panicking even more.

The citizenry are in a bad enough state of mind already, struggling under siege and illness. It isn't helped by news of the Ocean Storm leaking out. Soon the whole of Turai is aware that there's a sorcerous weapon capable of battering down our sea walls and letting the Orcish fleet sail in, and no one knows where it is. The Renowned and Truthful Chronicle runs an article on the affair; questions are asked in the senate. Deputy Consul Cicerius is forced to assure the senators that he has matters in hand. He sends more troops to the south of the city, along with Sorcerers to strengthen our protection. This carries some risk as it means leaving the other parts of the city less well guarded than they should be, though we still have enough Sorcerers in Turai to maintain our defensive spells. In reply to some harsh questioning from Senator Lodius, Cicerius assures him that Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, has our defences well in hand. As Lisutaris is currently lying ill in the Avenging Axe, this is not strictly true.

Lisutaris seems to be making a very slow recovery. She's taken the malady badly. I'm quite certain I got over it a lot quicker than our head of the Sorcerers Guild. Of course, I've always been strong. "Thraxas the Ox," they used to call me in my younger days. I was famous for my feats of strength. Ask anyone, they'll remember.

Chapter Eleven

Hanama, third in command in the Assassins Guild, slumbers on my couch. I look at her with distaste, and for the fiftieth time contemplate picking her up and slinging her out. Whoever made it taboo to abuse a sick house guest never had to put up with this sort of thing. I'm still not entirely convinced it isn't all some plot on her part. If she were to suddenly leap up and assassinate someone, I wouldn't be all that surprised.

I settle down at my desk and open a book about Turai's naval history which I borrowed without asking from Makri's room. She has a lot more books and scrolls in her room these days. They're expensive items, mostly out of her budget, but she's managed to fool Samanatius and his cronies into thinking she's a worthwhile student and they've been lending her more.

I peer at the book, frowning at the smallness of the writing and the dullness of the text. The historian manages to make some epic battles sound like very dull affairs indeed, and he has an annoying habit of quoting sources from all over the place, as if anyone really cares. I'm wading through the chapter on the Battle of Dead Dragon Island, hoping to pick up something which might help me locate Tanrose's mother's buried gold. I'm now fairly certain there's nothing in the vicinity of the harbour which could be referred to as a whale, but who knows, maybe these sailors used "whale" as a name for something else.

There's an oil lamp on the desk and I've got my illuminated staff cranked up to full power, but it's still not easy reading the endless pages of tedious facts. I realise why I never read a history book before. They're dreadfully dull. Soon I hate everyone involved, and I'm hoping they're all dead by the end of the chapter.

There's a knock at the door. Before I can answer it Makri strolls in. I glare at her.

"What?" she says. "I knocked."

"You're supposed to wait till I answer it."

"You're never satisfied, are you? Maybe I should send a message saying I'm coming."

Makri glances at the book on my desk and looks surprised.

"You're reading?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Just broadening my knowledge."

Makri looks suspicious.

"You don't have any knowledge to broaden. What is it?"

She lifts the cover to see the title.

"That's my book. Did you take it from my room?"

"Of course I took it from your room. Why, do you need it?"

Makri admits she doesn't at this moment, but she's displeased that I've taken it. I get the impression she doesn't trust me with it.

"It's only a book. What can happen?"

"Plenty of things. You might spill beer on it. Who can forget the incident at the library?"

I nudge my tankard away from the book.

"Preposterous. And why are you complaining anyway? You should be pleased I'm gathering a little knowledge."

Makri looks dubious.

"You're up to something. Tell me what it is."

"I'm not up to anything. Can't a man read a book without people making a fuss? What do you want anyway?"

"It's potion time," says Makri, and right on cue, Dandelion walks into the room with a steaming bowl of herbal medicine.

"How's Chiaraxi?" I ask, hoping she might have made a miraculous recovery.

"Not too bad," says Dandelion. "She doesn't seem as serious as everyone else. She wanted to get up and give everyone potion. But I told her I could do it."

It strikes me that the healer may regret this when Dandelion kills all her patients, but I don't mention it. Dandelion lent me money. I have to be polite to her, for a few days at least.

Dandelion doesn't wear shoes. The sight of her wandering round my room in bare feet makes me uncomfortable. Naked female feet are not exactly taboo in Turai but they're a rare sight. As for the circlet of flowers around her brow, it's frankly offensive. She holds Hanama's head and pours her medicine into her. Hanama is only partially conscious and some of the liquid dribbles down her chin. It's not an attractive sight. Makri places her hand on Manama's forehead.

"Still very feverish," she says.

"Any chance of her dying soon?" I ask, not entirely giving up hope.

Dandelion and Makri go through to the bedroom to minister to Lisutaris. I splash some water on my face and glance at the small cupboard behind my desk where my present from Lisutaris is hidden. I could do with a drink of the Grand Abbot's Ale right now but I'm not about to risk taking it out when Makri and Dandelion are around. I'm not planning on sharing it with anyone.

Dandelion and Makri reappear. Dandelion stands and looks at me.

"Don't let me detain you," I say, by way of a hint.

"Dandelion has something to tell you," says Makri. There's a slight glint in Makri's eye which immediately makes me suspicious. Makri always finds it amusing when Dandelion's strange ramblings start to infuriate me.

"I'm busy."

"It's very important," says Dandelion. "It's about the dragon line."

"The what?"

"The dragon line."

I frown.

"There's no such thing."

"There is. One of them runs right from the dolphins' cave through the Avenging Axe and up to the Palace."

I shake my head. Dragon lines are supposed to be mystical lines of power which cover the earth. Cheap charlatans, the sort who sometimes appear in the city before the Sorcerers Guild chases them out, tend to talk about them a lot. They promise gullible people cures for their problems if they walk along dragon lines, or dance on them, or whatever it is phoney mystics are recommending that day. It's all nonsense. They don't exist. Only people like Dandelion, who talk to dolphins and dabble in astrology, believe in them. Proper Sorcerers know they aren't real.

"They are real," says Dandelion, and looks surprised that I can possibly doubt it. "Why do you think the dolphins love that cave?"

"Maybe it's comfortable as caves go."

"It's on a dragon line," insists Dandelion. "Its energy draws them there. For healing. And spiritual advancement."