Martin Scott - Thraxas Under Siege (ARC)

Makri regards Tirini balefully as she exits.

"I don't think she's the best person to protect Lisutaris. Anyway, I'm protecting her."

Before Hansius leaves he questions us about our encounter with the Orcish Assassin. I can't tell him much more than I did in my message to the Deputy Consul, though I do my best to let Hansius know every detail I can remember. Turai's security has been breached by Orcs before, but now, in time of war, with our defensive sorcery at maximum power, it's far more serious. Old Hasius the Brilliant, Chief Sorcerer at the Abode of Justice, has been down at the harbour, checking on the scene of the fight, trying to pick up clues as to how the Orc Marizaz might have entered the city.

With a final admonition to maintain our own security and look after Lisutaris, Hansius departs. Makri turns towards Sarin the Merciless.

"I'm still going to kill her when she gets better."

"At least you have something to look forward to."

I step towards the bedroom."

"Where are you going?" demands Makri.

"Just checking on Lisutaris."

"Keep out of that room."

"What the hell do you mean, keep out? It's my bedroom."

"You're planning on asking her for money."

"Preposterous. I have a duty to look after her too, you know."

I slip into the bedroom, pursued by Makri.

"I refuse to let you borrow money from a sick woman."

"I'm not going to borrow money. What's it got to do with you anyway?"

"I'm her bodyguard."

"So what? You're meant to protect her from Orcish Assassins, not Investigators in need. Besides, I have some important questions regarding the Ocean Storm."

I stare at Makri.

"Questions that need to be asked in private."

"Not a chance," says Makri. "The minute I'm out that door you'll be scrounging money."

"I order you to get out of my bedroom."

"You can't order a Sorcerer's bodyguard around," states Makri, firmly. "I'm staying."

Lisutaris groans.

"You see?" I say to Makri. "You're upsetting her. She needs peace and quiet."

"She's not going to get peace and quiet with you trying to get your hands on her money."

"What's a few hundred gurans to Lisutaris? She's rolling in money. Goddamn, it's not like she'd be taking a risk."

"You just said you weren't here to borrow money."

"I'm not. But if I was, I'd be doing Lisutaris a favour. She enjoys gambling."

"She's got a city to defend!" yells Makri. "We're meant to be getting her healthy so she can fight the Orcs! Have you forgotten that?"

"Life doesn't stop just because the Orcs are besieging the city!" I roar back. "All citizens have a duty to keep things going. It's good for morale."

"Playing cards doesn't count as keeping things going," protests Makri.

We're interrupted by some movement on the bed. Lisutaris struggles to raise her head.

"I'll give you the money if you'll just leave me in peace," she whispers.

"No, don't—" says Makri.

"I accept," I say, butting in quickly. "Very sporting of you, Lisutaris, and I won't forget you when I'm counting my winnings."

Makri looks furious. I hurry to Lisutaris's bedside. The sorceress lifts her head a few inches.

"How much do you need?"

"Don't give it to him," says Makri.

Lisutaris manages a thin smile.

"Makri. Thraxas has been looking after me. Which is so against his nature, I think he deserves something for his trouble."

She motions for me to hand her a fancy embroidered bag, which I do, hastily. Lisutaris fumbles inside the bag. It takes some effort on her part and I start to worry that she might pass out before she finds her purse. If she does, I'll probably have to engage Makri in combat before I can take possession.

Lisutaris finds her purse, and opens it with an effort.

"How much is there?"

I look inside. There are seven coins. Seven silver fifty guran pieces. Not a common sight in Twelve Seas.

"Three hundred and fifty gurans."

"Is that enough?"

"Just about."

Lisutaris hands them to me. I'm deeply moved. Surely this is one of the finest citizens Turai has ever produced. I cram the coins into the pocket of my tunic.

"Do you want anything?" I ask.

"Some peace," whispers Lisutaris.

"Absolutely peace is what you need."

I rise swiftly and turn to Makri.

"You heard her. Absolute peace. From now on, make sure no one disturbs Lisutaris."

I leave the room quickly, delighted after a successful operation. I now have 440 gurans and require only sixty more. Surely I can raise that in the next few hours. I'm just strapping on my sword when I am struck by an annoying piece of inspiration about the Ocean Storm. Right now I'm not looking for inspiration. I'm more concerned with raising the cash for tomorrow night's gambling extravaganza. I hesitate. I could ignore it, or deal with it later. I head for the door, but turn back with a sigh. It's no use. No matter how I try, I never seem to be able to ignore an investigation.

I stride back into my bedroom. Makri is sitting beside Lisutaris's bed, not actually mopping her brow but looking like she might do it any moment. She glares angrily at me as I reappear.

"Need more money already?"

I ignore her.

"Lisutaris. I just had some sudden inspiration."

Lisutaris turns her face towards me. She's still looking very unhealthy. The head of the Sorcerers Guild has really taken the malady badly. I've known far less healthy people than her recover from it quicker.

"What inspiration?"

"Yesterday we met an Orcish Assassin. No one knows how he could have got into the city without being detected. Have you had any thoughts on that?"

The Sorcerer shakes her head.

"We're working on it," she whispers.

"Before we met him I passed some mourners, close to the harbour. A couple of men and a woman. Or I thought it was a woman. She was wearing a veil. But now I'm wondering if it might have been Deeziz the Unseen."

Lisutaris stares at me. She stares at me for so long I wonder if she might not be completely with us. Finally she manages the smallest of smiles.

"Deeziz the Unseen? I thought I was the one who was sick. You must be hallucinating."

"I wasn't hallucinating. I didn't see anything strange. Just a standard Human mourner, in a veil. Deeziz is known for wearing a veil. So I'm wondering if it might have been him."

"But mourners often wear veils," says Makri, which is true.

"Did you sense sorcery?" asks Lisutaris.

"No, nothing."

"Did you sense Orcs?" asks Makri.

I admit I didn't.

"It's just a feeling."

Lisutaris tries to raise herself on one elbow, but can't quite make it, and sinks down again.

"Deeziz the Unseen is on top of a mountain hundreds of miles away. We'd have detected him if he'd come anywhere near Turai. Cicerius's intelligence service would have heard something about it."

"Maybe not," I say. "It's not unheard of for an Orcish Sorcerer to infiltrate the city. Makri ran into one only a few months ago when she rescued Herminis"—I break off to cast a dirty look at Makri, signifying my continuing disapproval—"and we both came across one at the races a year or so ago."

"True," replies Lisutaris. "But every Sorcerer in the city has been on the highest alert since Amrag attacked. I think we'd have detected an intruder. And General Pomius doesn't even think Deeziz has joined Prince Amrag."

Lisutaris motions to Makri for water, and Makri raises a beaker to her lips.

"You don't have any reason for thinking it was Deeziz the Unseen, do you? Apart from your intuition?"

"No. I don't. But I've made it a long way on my intuition. Now I think about it, isn't it strange the way you've taken the malady so badly? You should have been starting to recover by now. What if it's Deeziz attacking you with a spell? Sorcery can prolong an illness."