Martin Scott - Thraxas at War

'This wouldn't have happened if Makri had a bigger room,' points out Iisutaris.

'Don't you think she should have a larger living space?' says Ginixa.

'Well, possibly, but - that's not the point! The point is—'

'I have to work long shifts every day serving beer in a chainmail bikini and then study at college in my spare time,' says Makri, pathetically. Everyone looks sympathetically at her before turning their gazes accusingly on me.

'You make her wear a chainmail bikini?' says one of the Senator's wives, sounding quite outraged.

'She doesn't have to wear anything!'

There's a shocked intake of breath from the assembled harridans.

'You would prefer her to be naked?' asks Melus, incredulously.

'That's not what I meant—'

'Things are worse than we feared,' says the Senator's wife. 'Even from a man like this I did not expect to hear such a thing.'

Viriggax, probably imagining he's making a quiet comment to his comrades, loudly informs the entire room that he does recall that 'the old dog Thraxas was always keen on the dancing girls'.

'Paid a lot of money to that red-haired wench down in Juval. I remember the way she used to take off—'

I interrupt him hastily.

'Could we stick to the subject? My office has been invaded by Sorcerers, Assassins, and assorted women from hell and I'd like it back. Makri, get rid of these people. And also the rug. Why is there a new rug?'

'I just made the place look a bit better.'

'You used my flowers,' says a large young mercenary, Toraggax, Viriggax's nephew.

'They lend a nice splash of colour,' says Makri.

Toraggax looks pleased.

'I could bring more.'

'Everybody get out of my office!' I roar.

'My poor Makri,' says Lisutaris, and pats her on the arm. 'I never fully appreciated how unpleasant your life here must be.'

Before I can fire off an angry retort there's a knock on my outside door. I march over and haul it open, expecting it to be some latecomer to the meeting who I fully intend to send away with a stinging reminder that this is a private place of work, not a gathering point for the city's female malcontents. Unfortunately I find Captain Rallee on the doorstep.

'I need to talk to—' he begins, then halts as he catches sight of the assortment of women in my office.

'What's going on here?'

I'm stuck for a good reply. The Captain steps past me into my office.

Association of Gentlewomen? Here?'

Captain Rallee sounds very suspicious. The association is a legal body but not one that's popular with the city authorities. He turns towards Lisutaris.

'What's this about?'

'It does not concern you, Captain Rallee.'

'This is my beat. Everything that goes on here concerns me.'

'No,' repeats Lisutaris. 'It does not concern you.'

Lisutaris is using a spell. It's probably not noticeable to anyone else except Melus the Fair, but with my sor-cerous background I can sense it. Captain Rallee appears momentarily confused.

'You're right. It doesn't concern me.'

And you will forget all about it,' says Lisutaris.

'I'll forget all about it,' repeats the Captain.

He withdraws, closing the door behind him.

'Well that's fantastic,' I growl. 'Now you've used sorcery on a Captain of the Civil Guards right here in my office. That's illegal. If the authorities hear about this they'll be down on me like a bad spell.

'But they won't get to hear of it,' says Lisutaris.

'Don't try using a spell on me.'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' says Lisutaris. After all, we are using your office. But we would appreciate it if you would keep this quiet, and leave us alone for a little while longer.'

'That sounds like a good idea,' says Viriggax, in an unusually soft voice. He leads his men out of the room.

'Did you use a spell on them?' I demand. 'You can't just come into my office and start throwing spells around.'

'Thraxas,' says Makri. 'Could you just stop asking questions and get the hell out of here? I've saved your damned life enough times that you can do me one small favour.'

'One small favour? I can't move in this city without trampling over you and your friends. How many times is this going to happen?'

'Even the northern mercenaries treat her better,' says the wagon driver to Hanama. 'They brought her flowers.'

'He has a very violent temper,' replies Hanama. Any act of kindness would be quite beyond him.'

I find myself again confronted by twelve sets of accusing eyes. Suddenly feeling very isolated, I back towards the inner door.

'Fine. But you haven't heard the last of this. And stay away from my klee.'

'We already drank it,' says Makri, who never knows when it's a good time not to tell the truth.

'We'll buy you another bottle,' adds Melus the Fair.

An angry rejoinder springs readily to mind. But somehow, with so many women staring at me, my spirit seems to quail. There's something unnerving about it. Maybe it's the new rug. It's very disconcerting. I withdraw with what dignity I can muster and head downstairs for the bar.

Viriggax and his men are drinking heartily in the corner. They have no memory of the incident. Lisutaris has erased it. I march angrily to the bar, glare at Dandelion and in my roughest voice demand a beer. Dandelion, fool that she is, isn't aware that I'm angry and hands it over with a smile. Realising there's no point in trying to annoy her, I move along the bar to where Tanrose is ladling out the stew.

'Tanrose, do I look like a man with progressive political views?'

'No,' replies Tanrose. 'You don't.'

'Not the sort of man to encourage new ways of thinking in western society?'

'Definitely not.'

'I didn't think so. So why does Makri think it's okay to bring her foul Association of Gentlewomen friends into my office? Don't they have houses of their own?'

'It's always awkward for them to find a meeting place,' saysTanrose. 'The Senators don't like it, Morixa's staff at the bakery get in the way, that sort of thing.'

'You seem to know a lot about it.'

Tanrose shrugs.

'I expect Makri's room was just the most convenient place they could find in a hurry'

'They're not in Makri's room. They're in my office.'

'Well, Makri's room is very small,' points out Tanrose. 'I suppose they needed more space.'

I seem to have been in this conversation before. Realising that the city is descending into pre-war madness and there's probably nothing I can do about it except go down fighting, I take my beer to a table in front of the fire and look forward to the arrival of the Ores. At least a man knows where he is when the dragons are swooping from the skies.

Outside the temperature is falling. Soon the whole city will be as cold as the Ice Queen's grave. At least the grim weather will suppress the panic that's been simmering since news of the invasion broke. Come the first day of spring, there will be a long trail of fainthearted citizens leaving the city by the Western Gate, but in the mean time we're all stuck here and have to make the best of it. Making the best of it won't be easy, because there are bound to be shortages. Supplies are always scarce in winter and this year it will be far harder because the population, fearing the worst from the war, have bought up everything that can be bought and the warehouses are empty. Stockpiling supplies is standard practice in war, no matter how the authorities try to prevent it.

Further military drill has been scheduled but I'm not certain how much of it will take place, given the bad weather. We'll have to try. At least the King had the foresight to hire a good number of mercenaries, most of them reliable troops like Viriggax. They won't go down without a fight. And then there're our Sorcerers, something with which Turai has always been well supplied. It's unfortunate that we've lost a few powerful members of the Guild in recent years - Tas of the Eastern Lightning would have been a good man to have on the battlefield, but he handed in his toga a couple of years ago - but we still have more than our share.