Martin Scott - Thraxas at War

I wave her quiet.

'Continually criticising me for a modest intake of ale when the whole world knows the Association of Gentlewomen is no more than a front for some of the wildest, most degenerate drinking ever seen in the city. Since Makri fell in with you she's rarely been sober. And what about your abuse of thazis? I don't see any mention of that at your meetings. No, just prolonged criticism of Investigators, honest landlords and the hard-working masses. You're all so bitter you can't stand to see a man enjoying a quiet tankard of ale. And who was it helped you get elected as head of the Sorcerers Guild anyway? I'll tell you who, it was me. Just like it was me who saved your sorry hide when you lost the green jewel last summer. That wouldn't have looked so good if the Consul had got to know about it. I chased all over the city looking for that gem, and how do you repay me? By barging into my offices uninvited and fouling up the place with incense and a new rug. I tell you—'

I break off. I might be mistaken, but it seems to me that there's a tear rolling from the corner of Lisutaris's eye. Immediately I'm uncomfortable. I hate it when anyone cries, always have. I never know what to say. Have I been too harsh? I remember that I'd planned to apologise to Lisutaris, not lambaste her. It's odd that she'd start crying. She's not the sort of woman to crumple in the face of a little mild criticism.

'Eh ... I'm sorry . . . maybe I spoke a little harshly. Didn't mean to make you cry.'

Lisutaris rises to her feet.

Thraxas, you imbecile. Nothing you could say would make me shed a tear. You insufferable buffoon, how dare you force your way into my house and criticise me!'

'So who's upset about uninvited guests now? You think it's okay to barge into my office—'

'Will you be quiet about that!' roars the Mistress of the Sky.

'Oh fine, it's okay for you to complain, but not—'

Lisutaris clenches her fists.

'If you continue with this I will blast you all the way to Simnia!' she yells. 'I'm not concerned about your office, your rug, or even your abominable drunkenness. Today I was sacked from the War Council! Me! Lisutaris, head of the Sorcerers Guild!'

I find myself sobering up surprisingly quickly.

'What? They can't sack you. It's impossible.'

'They can. Prince Dees-Akan moved to suspend me. By his reckoning I am no longer a trustworthy adviser.'

Lisutaris slumps back into her chair. Another tear forms in her eye. I'm not surprised. The shame and disgrace of being thrown of the War Council would be hard for anyone to bear. When you're the head of the Sorcerers Guild, it's unthinkable. As the tear rolls down Lisutaris's cheek I find myself feeling both sober and desperate.

'Do you want me to call for a servant?'

The Sorceress shakes her head. I really want someone to come and console her, because God knows, I can't do it.

'How about your secretary? You know, the crazy niece?'

'She's gone,' says Iisutaris. Her lip trembles. I curse under my breath. I've seen this woman lop an Ore's head off with a broken sword. Why does she have to pick this moment to start crying? When I'm the only one in the room? She should know it will have a very bad effect on me.

'Tell me what happened,' I say, desperately.

'I gave them a warning. They disregarded it. Rittius and Ovinian the True mocked me. Prince Dees-Akan was of the opinion that my warnings were the result of too much thazis and informed me I was no longer welcome at the War Council'

Any second now she's going to weep. I'm twitching with agitation.

'It's the most outrageous thing I've ever heard,' I blurt out. 'You're the greatest Sorcerer in Turai. You're the greatest Sorcerer in the Human lands. Everyone knows that. That's why they elected you head of the Guild.'

'I thought that was because you and Cicerius cheated for me.'

'Our cheating had nothing to do with it. You were elected because you're the best Sorcerer, period. You're worth more to this city than ten princes. What's that man ever done for Turai? You were bringing down dragons and defending the walls when he was still hanging on to his tutor's toga. He's never even seen action. Half the War Council's never seen action. Every person who fought in the war remembers what you did. People all over the world remember it. The Elves remember it. They made a song about it.'

'No they didn't,' says Lisutaris.

'They're composing it at this moment. There were some odes about trees to get finished first. You know, the tree odes can take a long time.'

Lisutaris manages to smile, and wipes the tears from her eyes.

'Well, thanks for the thought. But you did have to cheat to get me elected. Half of Turai was in on the conspiracy.'

And a magnificent job we did too! I swear some of those foreign delegates are still rolling around drunk in brothels in Kushni. But really, you are the best Sorcerer, everybody knows it.'

Lisutaris ponders this. The risk of weeping seems to be receding. She looks at me, raising one eyebrow again.

'I've never heard you give out compliments before, Thraxas.'

'You haven't? I'm generally ready to give credit where it's due.'

'You mean you're so terrified of seeing me cry you're prepared to go to any lengths to prevent it.'

'That as well. Are you feeling better now? Because I'm all out of reassurance. Do you think a fine bottle of wine from your excellent cellars might help things?'

The Sorcerer almost smiles, but at the memory of the War Council her brow wrinkles again. She waves her hand and the thazis pipe by her chair lifts gently into the air. She studies it for a few moments.

'The Prince is right,' she says. 'I do smoke too much thazis.'

I'm startled. Lisutaris is an unusually heavy thazis user, it's true, but I never expected to hear her voice any concern over it.

'I couldn't give the substance up even if I wished. It's a flaw in my character.'

'Everyone has a flaw. How is a person meant to live in this city without developing a few flaws? People have hinted I drink too much. To hell with them, I say. About your wine cellars . . .?'

Lisutaris laughs. She lights her pipe and pulls on a bell rope for a servant. I ask her about the warning she gave to the War Council.

'I told them I believed it was possible that Prince Amrag had already sent an army to Yal, kingdom of Horm the Dead. Yal is not so far from Turai. I suspect that they may attack before the winter is out.'

'I can see why they found that hard to believe. But surely the other Sorcerers on the Council could check?'

'That's the problem,' admits Lisutaris. 'No other Sorcerer can detect any trace of an Orcish army in Yal. And neither can I, now. But for a second, as I scanned the east with the green jewel, I was sure that I saw them. Now, there's no trace.'

'So when Old Hasius and his friends tried to check they found no sign of them?'

Lisutaris nods, and draws deeply on her water pipe.

'Prince Dees-Akan openly stated that I was suffering from hallucinations brought on by thazis. Maybe he's right.'

'Is he?'

Lisutaris looks doubtful.

'I think I saw them. It's difficult. The Orcish Sorcerers Guild is so strong these days. They've learned how to countermand most of our far-seeing spells. Even using the green jewel is no longer easy. I can sense some sort of spell working against it.'

The green jewel is something of a state secret in Turai, a magical artifact for far-seeing which cannot be blocked by enemy Sorcerers. Or couldn't, up till now. Lisutaris stares into space, as if scanning the ether for sorcery.

'I don't think the green jewel is being directly interfered with. But there's something wrong. Something so intangible that no other Sorcerer can detect it. So vague that most times I can't either. Just something that's interfering with my seeing spells.'