Martin Scott - Thraxas at War

Weighing things up, I'd say it's going to be a close thing. Depends on what sort of army Prince Amrag brings over. Our Sorcerers should be able to give us plenty of advance warning about its size, but until we confront it we won't know how well disciplined it is. Equally, it depends on how our allies respond. Things still look reasonably good on this front. The Human armies are gathering and the Elves will be ready to sail with the first calm weather.

I wonder what Queen Direeva, ruler of the Southern Hills, will do. Probably remain tucked up safely in her kingdom. She's not a friend of the Ores, but the Southern Hills is close to the Orcish Lands and she won't want to become embroiled in the war if she can avoid it. Who knows what's going to happen? We've beaten the Ores before. I might yet survive into my forty-fourth year.

Which brings me back to my investigation. If I do survive the war I'm gong to be plenty annoyed if Lodius is hanged for a murder he didn't commit. I stare into the fire and mull over the case, trying to find some angle I haven't yet considered. I was there when the murder happened. I'm a trained observer, or meant to be. Have I missed anything? I reconstruct events in my mind, as I've done many times over the past weeks. Try as I might, nothing new springs to mind. If there was a vital clue, it passed me by. All I can remember is the excellence of the pastries on offer. Worth attending the meeting for. A vague thought of something unconnected to pastries floats by. I can't identify it. Why was Galwinius murdered right then? Why not later, when there were fewer people around? Surely that would have been safer. Those pastries were really excellent. Although, as I recall, one of them was slightly undercooked. There's something else I should be remembering. I try and clear my mind of all thoughts of pastries. There was a scroll. Is that right? I strain to remember. Galwinius had a scroll. And after the murder was committed I didn't see any scroll. Might that be significant? Maybe he just fell on top of it, thought I don't think so. Possibly it just disappeared among the crowd in the confusion. I make a mental note to see if anyone can tell me anything about the scroll. I get to wondering about the Society of Friends. As always, when that organisation is involved in some affair I'm investigating, I'm hampered by a lack of contacts. The Society works in the north of the city and that's not my territory. I can sometimes pick up information about them in Kushni, but I've no informant who can really be relied on. I could do with learning a little more about their recent activities. Captain Rallee might have heard something. I should visit the Captain, find out what he wanted from me before Lisutaris send him away confused and forgetful.

My magic warm cloak is in my room. I don't want to go upstairs while all those women are still there. Cursing them for making me venture out into the grim winter evening without the benefit of my cloak, I head out into Quintessence Street. The first people I bump into are Palax and Kaby, a young pair of buskers who earn their living by singing and performing acrobatics on street corners. Generally domiciled in a caravan behind the Avenging Axe, they've been out of the city for a while, plying their trade in foreign parts. They've now returned to spend the winter in Turai. A poor choice, given what's coming.

I used to be suspicious of the young couple, primarily because of their unheard-of sartorial outrages -Palax has parts of his hair dyed green, and Kaby has piercings through her lips and eyebrow, things which would cause any normal citizen to be stoned in the streets and maybe thrown from the city walls, but as travelling musicians, they seem to get away with it. These days I'm used to them, and greet them politely enough.

'Just made it back in time. The roads are almost impassable. We thought we were going to get stuck.'

'You might wish you had, if you're still here in the spring.'

I notice Kaby is carrying a bundle wrapped in paper.

'What's that?'

'Flowers,' says Kaby.

'We brought them for Makri,' says Palax.

'We know how much she likes them.'

I bid them a stiff goodbye and depart along the frozen stretch of Quintessence Street. I'm really sick of this city. A man can't live an honest life here any more. The whole place is degenerate. If the Ores burn the place down they'll be doing us all a favour.

There are few people about on Quintessence Street. I realise I'm not carrying my sleep spell or any other form of sorcerous protection. I'd have to look at the written spell in my grimoire to learn it again. Which of course would mean going to my office. Another reason to curse Makri and her friends. Only a few hours ago I was attacked in the street. For all I know, another band of assailants could be on their way at this moment. I wonder who they were and who sent them. If anyone in the city is feeling nervous because of my current investigation, they must imagine I've made a lot more progress than I actually have.

A voice from a doorway calls out my name. A ragged figure, shivering in the cold. It's Kerk. An informer of mine, or used to be. These days he's so deep in his dwa addiction he's not much use for anything, except begging.

'I've got something for you,' he says, eagerly.

'What?'

Kerk holds out his hand for money.

'It's a long time since you gave me any useful information.'

Kerk is in a bad way. He's little more than skin and bones. Doesn't look like he's eaten for weeks. Whatever small amounts of money he can raise are spent on dwa.

From the look of him I'd say he was unlikely to make it through the winter. I take out a few coins and hand them over, more from memory of service he's given me in the past than any expectation that he might know anything useful.

'So what have you got?'

'You're investigating Galwinius, right?'

'Right.'

'The same day that Galwinius was murdered, the Guards found another body in Thamlin. Oraxin. He was a dwa dealer. Small time.'

'So?'

'Oraxin did some work for Galwinius.'

'What sort of work?'

'Informing.'

According to Kerk, Oraxin enhanced his income by taking any useful information he came across to Prefect Galwinius. As a dealer in dwa, Oraxin might occasionally have learned something that would interest the Prefect.

'How did he die?'

'Stab wounds. They haven't arrested anyone.'

I give Kerk another coin and walk off. Might be useful. An informant working for Galwinius, murdered on the same day. It could be connected. More likely Oraxin was murdered over dwa, a common fate for a small-time dealer.

At the Guards station the Captain is as pleased to see me as ever, which is to say, not at all. We go back a long way, the Captain and I. We fought together. And we worked together for a while, when I was employed by Palace Security and the Captain had a better job up town.

Since I left the Palace and set up on my own, the Captain hasn't been so friendly. The Guards don't have a lot of time for private Investigators. And since the Captain was manoeuvred out of his comfy job and sent to pound the streets in Twelve Seas, he's not exactly been friendly with anyone. I sympathise with Rallee, more or less. He's an honest man in a city where it doesn't pay to be honest. He's a large man, long fair hair tied back, still handsome in his black uniform, better preserved than me. 'How's life in the Guards?'

'Better than rowing a slave galley,' growls the Captain. 'What do you want?'

'I had a hunch you might want to see me.' Captain Rallee looks confused. Lisutaris's spell of bafflement has wiped a small part of his memory. For a day or two, he'll have a feeling that something happened, something he can't quite remember. After that he'll forget all about it. Lisutaris is a powerful woman, no doubt about it.