Martin Scott - Thraxas Under Siege (ARC)

I tap my fingers on my desk. Now we've reached the spiritual advancement of dolphins, I'm about as far into the strange and fanciful realms inhabited by Dandelion as I care to go.

"Well that's very interesting, Dandelion, but I'm—"

"I really feel it's important, with the Ocean Storm still not found."

I halt. Dandelion lives so much in her own world I'm surprised she's even heard of the Ocean Storm.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you see?" says Dandelion. "If the Orcs find the Ocean Storm they'll use it on the dragon line. It's bound to make it more powerful."

"What?"

"They'll use it to send a huge storm right from the dolphins' cave over the city walls and up to the Avenging Axe."

Dandelion looks worried.

"I'm very concerned about the dolphins."

I notice my mouth is hanging open. I close it.

"You can see it's a serious problem," says Makri, deadpan.

I crash my fist on to the desk. The aged black wood trembles under the blow.

"I've never heard such nonsense in all my life! A dragon line coming up from the dolphins' cave to the Avenging Axe? Are you completely crazy? No, don't answer that. For one thing, dragon lines don't exist, and for another, if they did exist don't you think we should be worrying about the people in the city rather than a few dolphins?"

"People can look after themselves," says Dandelion. "We have to help the dolphins."

I'm about to pick up Dandelion and bodily eject her from the office when I remember I'm meant to be polite to her. A physical assault may lead to a withdrawal of vital funding. I control myself, with difficulty.

"Dandelion. I really don't think the dolphins are in danger. If an Orcish fleet arrives they're probably smart enough to swim away. Besides, the Orcs aren't going to get hold of the Ocean Storm. I'm looking for it and so are a lot of other people. We'll find it before the Orcs."

"Really?" says Dandelion.

"Yes."

"All right," she says, gathering up her jars of herbal potion. "I'll go and reassure the dolphins." She departs, apparently satisfied that I'm doing my bit to help.

Makri takes a thazis stick from my desk and lights it. I scowl at her.

"Did you encourage her to do that?"

"Certainly not."

"You always think it's funny when Dandelion starts rambling about dolphins."

"Only when she's rambling in your direction. If it's me, I just walk away."

Makri looks thoughtful.

"Do dragon lines really not exist?"

"No. They're for fakers and fortune-tellers."

"I never had much involvement with Orcish Sorcerers when I was in the slave pits. But I seem to remember talk of dragon lines."

I light a thazis stick. I remember the high-quality thazis from Lisutaris I've got hidden away. Makri would enjoy that. She'd enjoy it too much. I don't bring it out.

"They don't exist."

Makri shrugs.

"Whatever you say."

It's time for me to abandon my studies and hit the streets. I take my best magic cloak and mutter the words to make it warm. It heats up immediately and I start loading thazis sticks and a small flask of klee into the pockets, enough to get me through a day's investigating. I'm humming a tune, without really noticing it, till Makri interrupts.

"Love me through the winter."

"What?"

"That tune you're humming. It's the one Moolifi was singing. 'Love Me Through the Winter'."

"It's a catchy tune."

Makri hasn't softened her opinions on Moolifi's performance.

"She's a terrible singer. No wonder she has to take her clothes off as well. And the tune's only catchy because it's stolen from an old Elvish ballad."

"What?"

"The Song of the Doomed Elvish Sea Lord."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's quite obscure," admits Makri. "It comes from an Elvish play by Ariath-Ar-Mith. He was never that well known, even among the Elves. I doubt his plays have been performed for four hundred years, maybe more."

"Makri, doesn't it worry you that you're starting to know more about ancient Elvish culture than the Elves themselves?"

"I like to know things. But don't you think it's strange Moolifi was singing something based on that tune? It's very obscure."

"It's probably a coincidence. How many tunes are there? They all sound the same after a while."

"Not really," says Makri. "There are fourteen main groups of—"

I recognise the signs, and hold up my hand.

"Spare me the lecture on every form of music ever known in the west. I have some investigating to do."

Makri would like to come out and investigate with me. Ever since I mentioned the possibility of Sarin the Merciless being involved, she's been eager to confront her. Unfortunately for Makri, she has to work all day.

"If I meet her I'll kill her for you."

Hanama rolls over on the couch and groans. Makri looks concerned. I stub out my thazis stick and head downstairs. I have investigating to do and I'm planning on filling up with stew before hitting the streets. Gurd is at the bar, alongside Dandelion. They're looking pensive.

"What's wrong?"

"Tanrose got the malady."

I stare at them, horrified.

"It can't be true."

Gurd nods miserably. I sink on to a stool, stricken with grief.

"Is there no end to it?" I mutter, and motion for drink. "We're cursed."

"I don't think she's so bad—" says Dandelion.

I wave her quiet.

"Tanrose. Ill. Who's going to cook?"

"Elsior can take over," says Dandelion.

"Elsior? She can't cook a proper stew. What have we done to deserve this?"

I start mentally shaking my fist at the gods. They've played a few nasty tricks on me in the past, but striking down the best cook in Twelve Seas goes beyond all reason.

"I just don't think I can carry on."

Dandelion puts her hand on my shoulder.

"You have to be strong, Thraxas. We can get through it."

"No. It's the end."

I look up at Gurd.

"This is your fault. You should have reported the malady as soon as Kaby got sick. Then the tavern wouldn't be full of sick people and Tanrose might have escaped. How could you be so irresponsible?"

"We're talking about the woman I'm engaged to," says Gurd, raising his voice. "It was your idea not to report the malady!"

"What?"

"You didn't want to report it so your card game didn't get cancelled!"

"Ridiculous! You were too worried about your profits. A bit less thinking about money and a bit more consideration for the welfare of others and this wouldn't have happened!"

"Tanrose is sick, and all you can think about is your stomach!" roars Gurd.

"If Tanrose dies you'll be sorry you forced her to work in dangerous circumstances!"

"I did not force her to work!"

Gurd is furious. So am I. He leans over the bar and I rise from my stool, ready to do battle.

"Stop this!" yells Dandelion. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."

I glare at Dandelion, then at Gurd.

"I have investigating to do," I say, stiffly. "Try not to kill off anyone else while I'm gone."

With that I leave. The thought of struggling through even a few days in Twelve Seas without Tanrose's cooking to keep me going is almost enough to make me give up altogether. You'd have to go a long way in this city for a better meal, and you'd need to pay a lot more money. Perhaps I can win enough at cards to dine out for a while? Maybe even go up to that eatery near Thamlin I used to frequent, back when I was Senior Investigator at the Palace? Their food was worth travelling for. I shake my head. I'll be back on guard duty soon, trapped on a cold wall, staring out into space. Little opportunity for travelling the city in search of a decent meal. I might as well face it, I'm not going to get a proper bowl of stew till Tanrose recovers.

Maybe that won't be too long. She's a hearty sort of woman. People like Tanrose and me, we're good strong Turanian stock. We don't lie around complaining of slight illnesses. We just rest briefly then get on with things, unlike these degenerate Sorcerers and Assassins currently plaguing the Avenging Axe.