Martin Scott - Thraxas Under Siege (ARC)

Lisutaris has already thought of this.

"I checked. I'm not being affected by any spell."

"You think you're not. What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not."

"I think you might be."

A hint of colour appears in Lisutaris's cheeks. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, does not appreciate anything which might be construed as criticism of her power.

"I'm the head of the Sorcerers Guild."

"And I'm an Investigator who's got you out of a few jams in the past. What if I'm right? What if the most powerful Orcish Sorcerer is wandering around in Turai? Who knows what new spells he might have brought with him?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. No one can catch me unaware."

Lisutaris is angry.

"I just gave you three hundred and fifty gurans to leave me in peace and now you're bothering me with this foolishness. Makri, get rid of him so I can sleep."

"No," says Makri.

"What?" Lisutaris looks surprised. "But you're my bodyguard."

"What if Thraxas is right?" says Makri.

Lisutaris finds the strength to haul herself up into a sitting position.

"I always thought you were the smart one."

"I am the smart one," says Makri. "But Thraxas often succeeds in his investigating. I don't think you should ignore him. Maybe Deeziz is here. Maybe he's attacking you and you don't know it."

"How many times do I have to repeat, I can't be attacked without me knowing it," insists Lisutaris. "I've had enough of this. What was Cicerius thinking, leaving me in this place? I need to be at home where I can recover without being surrounded by idiots."

Lisutaris makes an attempt to haul herself out of bed. Makri puts a hand on her shoulder and firmly pushes her back. Lisutaris's eyes widen in amazement.

"You can't leave," says Makri, firmly. "You have to rest and get better. Meanwhile Thraxas can investigate more."

"Would you like me to blast you with a spell?"

"Well that wouldn't be a very smart thing to do to your own bodyguard," says Makri, logically.

Lisutaris sinks back into the bed.

"I need thazis," she says.

"You can't have it," says Makri. "The healer says it's bad for you."

"To hell with the healer," says Lisutaris. She waves her hand, summoning her bag. It rises from the floor but Makri intercepts it and throws it in a drawer.

"No thazis till you're better," she says, sternly.

Fearing that Lisutaris might actually carry out her threat to start blasting people with spells, I decide it's time to go. As I leave the room Lisutaris is still complaining about not being allowed any thazis, and Makri is ignoring her.

I need food. I head downstairs to see what's on offer. Elsior the apprentice cook is standing behind the bar as I approach, with an apron round her waist, loading some pastries into a jar. I ask if there's anything more substantial on offer. There are plenty of hungry dock workers who visit the tavern at lunchtime so the cooking generally starts early.

"I'm a bit rushed," says Elsior, apologetically. "But the first batch of stew will be ready soon."

She puts her hand to her forehead.

"It's hot in here today."

"Hot? I hadn't noticed."

"Must be the heat in the kitchen getting to me," says Elsior.

I have a strong suspicion about what's going to happen next. Elsior blinks a few times, and brushes perspiration from her forehead. Then she leans forward, clutches the bar for support, and sinks slowly to the floor. I look down at her.

"So is the stew almost ready? Could I just take a bowl from the kitchen?"

Elsior doesn't reply. Makri appears from upstairs.

"Another casualty?"

"I'm afraid so. And the stew isn't ready yet."

"Tough break," says Makri.

We look down at Elsior's prone body.

"I'm starting to get quite fed up with all this," says Makri.

"Me too."

"Do you think these people are really trying to get better? Palax and Kaby have been sick for ages. Shouldn't they be healthy by now?"

I shrug.

"Difficult to say. Sometimes the malady's like that. At least no one's died yet."

"So where are we going to put her?"

Hanama and Sarin are sick in my office and Lisutaris is in my bedroom. Palax and Kaby are in Makri's room and Chiaraxi is lying ill in Tanrose's room. Moolifi is in the only spare guest room.

"Have to be Dandelion's room, I'd say."

Dandelion sleeps in a small room at the back of the tavern, when she's not down at the shore, talking to the dolphins. We pick Elsior up and start to carry her through the kitchen towards the back. As we do so we meet Dandelion bustling towards us.

"Oh dear," says Dandelion. Another one?"

"We were going to put her in your room."

Dandelion accepts it with good grace.

"You best tell Gurd," I say. "He's going to have a lot of hungry dockers and mercenaries here in a few hours and nothing to feed them."

Dandelion wrinkles her brow.

"I'm not a very good cook."

She turns to Makri.

"Can you cook?"

Makri looks quite offended, and shakes her head.

"Well, I'm off to investigate," I say, and depart briskly. I'm not so bad at mixing up a stew on a campfire, but I'm not planning on pitching in and helping. The thought of me cooking for dockers and mercenaries is quite ridiculous, but the way things are going, I wouldn't put it past someone to suggest it.

Chapter Thirteen

I return to my office to pick up my sword and load up with a spell or two. I cram some thazis sticks and a flask of klee into a pocket. When I turn round I find Sarin the Merciless staring at me. I glare at her.

"Aren't you better yet?"

She doesn't reply. She's huddled up in one of my blankets, as is Hanama. Hanama at least contrives to look innocent. Sarin just looks like a killer.

"I'm off to find the Ocean Storm. No doubt you intended to find it and sell it to the Orcs. Well, you can forget it."

"I'd have it already if I hadn't got sick," she whispers.

"No you wouldn't."

"I've outwitted you in the past."

"So you claim. And here you are, sick on my couch. Try outwitting that."

"You're not making sense," sneers Sarin.

"Not making sense? Try this. I work every day and I fight for my city. You're a parasite who feeds off honest people. Does that make sense?"

Sarin mops her brow. She's bathed in perspiration, suffering badly from the disease.

"There's no difference between us," she says. "We're both empty. I fill it up with crime. You fill it up with food and beer."

I blink. It's an odd thing to say.

"You're rambling, Sarin. The malady does that. When you get healthy you'll remember which one of us is the honest upright citizen. And you're not going to be healthy for long once Makri's done with you."

Sarin sneers.

"If she had any sense she'd have done with me already. But at least her life isn't empty like yours."

"Oh no?"

"No."

"She works as a barmaid and wastes her time listening to Samanatius the phoney philosopher."

"You don't like Samanatius?" says Sarin.

"I don't."

"That shows what a fool you are."

Not willing to engage in further conversation with a woman who is clearly delirious, I leave through the outside door, place the locking spell on it, and hurry down the steps into Quintessence Street. As soon as I hit the cold thoroughfare it strikes me that I don't really know what I'm looking for. Whales, maybe, but I've already checked Twelve Seas quite thoroughly, and I'd swear there wasn't one lurking in the shadows. As for the Ocean Storm, who knows where that might be? As far as I can gather, it was gone from Borinbax's house before Sarin killed him. If it hadn't been she'd have it by now, and wouldn't be troubling me.

A squadron of troops marches by, on their way to bolster the harbour defences. Each man has a long spear and a shield over his shoulder. By this time the city is awash with rumours that the Orcs are going to batter down the sea wall, and the area is continually being reinforced. As well as additional soldiers, Cicerius has assigned more Sorcerers to the sea defences. Even Kemlath Orc Slayer is down there, in charge of one section of wall. Kemlath was banished for his crimes, crimes which I detected, but he's been recalled for the duration of the war. I'm not objecting. The city needs the services of everyone who can wield a spell.