Martin Scott - Thraxas Under Siege (ARC)

"But it's for the good of the city," I mutter. "No one could hold it against me."

I use my opening spell again. The slab groans. It's a weightier item than I'm used to shifting. For a moment I think it's not going to work. I reach down and start hauling at it, adding my own strength to the strength of the spell. Finally the slab moves over a foot or so. I wipe the sweat from my forehead. That was an effort. Without the desperate circumstances I'd never have pulled it off. I reach down into the coffin below, and at that moment the front door flies open and Bishop Gzekius and Pontifex Derlex stride into the church. I have rarely seen two men look more surprised.

"What is going on!" roars the Bishop.

"It's Thraxas," cries Derlex. "He's robbing a grave!"

"Send for the Civil Guards," roars the Bishop. "He'll hang for this!"

Pontifex Derlex is aghast.

"Thraxas!" he cries. "Even from you, I never expected this."

He turns to go, to summon the Guards.

"It's for the good of the city . . ." I begin, but abandon the effort. There's no way of convincing them, and time is short. Though I'm not used to casting two spells in quick succession, I can still do it, just about. I mutter the words of my sleep spell and the Bishop and Derlex both tumble gracefully to the ground. Then I have to sit down. The effort has drained me completely. It'll be a week before I can use a spell again. I have to force myself to move, shaking my head and reaching down into the marble coffin. The first thing I touch is a wooden box, something of a relief as I wasn't looking forward to dragging up a lot of bones. I take it out of the grave. It's sealed and there's a small metal nameplate on it. Captain Maxius.

So there it is. The Captain's treasure. Buried under a whale, more or less. I tuck it under my arm, pick up my illuminated staff and hurry from the church. For a first attempt at grave robbing, it's gone rather well. With any luck the Deputy Consul can explain things to the Bishop, thereby preventing any rash attempt to hang me for my crimes.

Outside the church I'm about to climb back on my horse when a hand grabs me by the shoulder and yanks me backwards. I tumble to the ground and find myself looking at a fancy pair of black boots and the fringes of a rainbow cloak. It's Glixius.

"Stealing from the church?" he booms. "Just what I'd expect of you, Thraxas. Hand it over!"

I struggle to rise. It's an effort. I'm still weak from casting the spells. I once knocked out Glixius with one punch but there's no way I can do that just now.

"I need this money," I say.

"So do I."

"What for?" I ask, trying to delay him while my strength returns.

"Gambling debts," says Glixius. "To the Brotherhood. Casax, in fact. He just learned that one of my credit notes from last month is bad. It could be awkward."

He raises one hand.

"But killing you with a spell and taking the fourteen thousand gurans seems to be a solution to all my problems."

Glixius suddenly sags at the knees, and then pitches forward on to the ground. Makri has appeared silently round the corner and hit him with a small leather club. I look at her rather wildly.

"Who's looking after my cards?"

"Aren't you going to thank me for saving you?" says Makri.

"Thanks for saving me. Who's looking after my cards?"

"I saw Glixius following you out so I followed him myself."

"Yes, it was brilliantly done. So who's at the table?"

"Dandelion."

"Aaarrggghhhh!"

"Did you just scream?" says Makri.

"Dandelion is looking after my cards? Of course I screamed."

I struggle to get on my horse, frantic at the thought of the barefoot idiot sitting in for me at the card table.

"She'll be fine," says Makri. "I told her not to do anything rash."

"Are you insane, leaving her in charge? Do you want to marry Horm?"

"Well you weren't doing so well yourself," says Makri. "Shouldn't you be getting back to the Axe rather than standing here talking?"

I mount my horse and spur it forward. It's a risk riding at night in the city as it's illegal, but there are so many people exempted from this law in Twelve Seas at the moment, with soldiers, Sorcerers and Civil Guards scurrying round shoring up the defences, that no one pays me much attention. Makri, an inexperienced rider, follows me at a distance.

I stable the horse and rush back into the tavern. If Dandelion has blown my money then it's all over. Once a player is out of funds he has to leave the table, and can't return. I've a faint hope that Makri might have been joking about Dandelion. My heart sinks—even further—when I see that she wasn't. Dandelion is sitting in my seat, with a suspiciously small pile of money in front of her. I glance round wildly at the onlookers, focusing finally on Lisutaris.

"You allowed this to happen? Are you crazy?"

Lisutaris shrugs.

"Captain Rallee volunteered to take your hand. But Horm objected."

I turn to face Horm.

"Since when can an Orc come in here and start objecting to people?"

"There are limits to how many replacements a man can have," says Horm, smoothly. "There was general agreement on the matter."

I glare at them all.

"It's all right, Thraxas," says Dandelion, quite cheerfully. "I'm getting the hang of it now."

"How much of my money have you got left?"

"Er . . . almost fifty gurans."

I drag the idiotic barmaid out of the way and retake my seat, not in the best of tempers. I scowl at the assembled players.

"Most amusing. Dandelion filling in for me while you rob a man of his hard-earned money. Well I've got a surprise for you."

I slap the wooden chest down on the table.

"That wasn't the only money I have."

Now this isn't such a strange thing to do, in normal circumstances. A player is quite entitled to bring in more funds. But given that Horm and I are meant to be playing with a stake of 1,000 gurans each, I'm expecting some argument, at least from him. When I stare him in the eye, however, he merely lifts an eyebrow, professing not to care.

"I am already far ahead of you, Investigator. I have no objection to you squandering whatever else you have scraped together."

"Scraped together? Try this, you half-Orc excuse for a card player."

I open the chest and turn it upside down quite dramatically, expecting a shower of coins to cascade on to the table. Fourteen coins tumble out in front of me. Fourteen single gurans. I stare at them, and then shake the box, hoping for more. There is no more. Apparently the tale of the Captain's treasure grew in the telling. All around the table there are guffaws of laughter.

"Brought your life savings?" says Casax.

I'm still scrabbling around in the empty chest, looking for more money. I can't believe I've gone to so much trouble for fourteen gurans. Damn that Tanrose and her lying family. Behind me Cicerius snorts in derision. Lisutaris and Hanama might well be about to join him but we're interrupted by a very loud banging on the tavern door.

"Open up in the name of the True Church. We demand the immediate arrest of the grave-robber Thraxas!"

"What is this?" demands the Deputy Consul, startled by the clamour.

"Ignore them," I say. "The Church doesn't have the authority to go around demanding things."

"This is Bishop Gzekius and I demand the arrest of Thraxas under the authority of the Church!"

"It's a moot point," I say. "Anyway, you outrank the Bishop."

"What have you done?" demands the Deputy Consul.

"Nothing."

"They're saying you robbed a grave!"

"A small misunderstanding when I dropped in to pray. Well, gentlemen, I'd say it was time to get the game underway again."

Cicerius goes off to the front door, hopefully to pacify the Bishop. He has to. They can't drag me off for grave-robbing; the safety of the city rests in my hands. Me and my sixty-four gurans. It's not going to be easy. I need more beer. I twist round in my chair to yell at Makri, who's now returned to her post behind the bar.