Martin Scott - Thraxas at War

'Why did you want me killed?'

'I'm sure you must know already, Investigator. You were coming rather too close to finding out the truth about Galwinius's death.'

Bevarius is making no attempt to lie, which can only mean that he intends to kill me. No reason why he shouldn't. It's the smart thing to do, in the circumstances. Gets me out of the way, and the Civil Guards won't be too upset with the Consul's assistant for killing an intruder. I try to buy some time.

'Why did you kill Galwinius?'

'He found out about the Orcish Sorcerer. An informant told him. We couldn't let him give us away'

'How did you manage to frame Senator Lodius? He could have handed that pastry to anyone, or eaten it himself.'

Bevarius looks amused.

'You're no better at investigating than the Civil Guard, and God knows, they're bad enough. Galwinius wasn't killed by the pastry from Lodius's tray. The poison doesn't act that quickly. Unlike carasin, it takes a minute or two to take effect. I fed the poisoned item to Galwinius before the Consul entered the room. It was just good fortune that Galwinius keeled over when he did. Made Lodius the prime suspect. In the confusion, I dropped a little more poison on to the pastry he'd eaten. Enough to fool the Sorcerers.'

'That was smart.'

'It was.'

'The Ores must have paid a lot for the services of a smart man like you.'

Bevarius's eyes narrow.

'Maybe they did. And I think we've talked long enough.'

He's about to loose the arrow.

'So who were you working with? Kalius?'

Bevarius frowns. Then he gasps, and sags forward. His finger lets go of the arrow and it thuds into the floor in front of him. He grasps at his neck then crumples to the floor. I dash to his side. There's a dart sticking in his neck. I look round wildly, unable to fathom where it came from. One of the front windows is open a few inches. It doesn't seem possible that anyone could have fired a dart through the gap so accurately as to kill Bevarius, but there's no other solution. Someone very adept in the use of weapons has just assassinated him. There's no one in sight. His killer will be long gone by now, disappearing into the snow.

I return to the corpse. Blood is pumping from Bevarius's neck. I put my hand inside his toga, looking for the concealed pocket that these awkward garments always contain. I pull out a few papers. A betting slip, from the look of it, and something larger. I frown. The larger piece of paper is now stained with blood but I can still make out some of the letters. They're written in Orcish. There's a noise outside. I look out the window. Two servants, coming home laden with goods. I make quickly for the back door and exit as they go in the front. I'm hurrying along the road by the time I hear someone screaming that Bevarius has been murdered.

The snow is falling more heavily. I keep my head down and hope that no one will pay enough attention to me to give the Civil Guards a good description when they arrive to investigate. I'm keen to get back to the Avenging Axe as quickly as possible to examine the Orcish writing. I have a fair knowledge of the common Orcish tongue and Makri's is better.

I find her in her room, studying some old books. Makri has very few books. She'd like more, but they're expensive items.

'Makri. I did swear never to speak to you again after the Herminis debacle but I need your help translating this Orcish document.'

'Okay,' says Makri, quite brightly.

'New books?'

'Samanatius gave them to me. I went along to his academy to say goodbye.'

'Is he leaving town?'

'No, he's going to fight the Ores.'

I can see why Makri was saying goodbye. I can't see the elderly philosopher lasting long on the battlefield.

I spread out the sheet of paper on the floor for Makri to examine. It's torn and stained with blood. Makri purses her lips and says that it's not a form of Orcish she's familiar with.

'I can make out some of it. But there are words I've never seen before. I can probably work it out given time; it looks like some old form of the dialect they speak in Gzak. Like the Orcish their Sorcerers use, I think.'

'Okay. But what about the bits you can read? Does the heading say something about feeding dragons?'

'Not feeding,' says Makri. 'Transporting.'

'Transporting?'

With an Orcish army on the way, anything about transporting dragons can't be good news.

'Where did this come from?'

I tell Makri about Bevarius. Makri asks if the Consul's assistant was working alone. I admit I'm not sure.

'Someone killed him before I could finish my interrogation.'

I examine the betting slip. Not an official slip from one of Turai's bookmakers but the sort of note a man might make to record some bet between friends, or maybe a note to remind him who was gambling on what when he went to place the bet. Might not be important. All classes in Turai place bets on the races.

'You were right about the poison. It wasn't carasin. Something similar, but slower working. Bevarius poisoned the pastry in—'

I stop. Where did Bevarius poison the pastry? Not in the kitchen. The cook said no one entered the kitchen. In the corridor? Maybe. But if he did, it didn't show up in Lisutaris's sorcerous reconstruction of the scene, even with her improved pictures. Maybe the Consul did it. He was definitely around the food trolleys. But somehow I can't see Kalius injecting poison into a pastry in the corridor, not when he was due to negotiate a loan from a moneylender. Kalius isn't cool-headed enough to do all that. Everything seems to be pointing towards the Consul but I'm hesitant. I just don't see him as a murderer. Incompetent, yes. Greedy, to an extent. But not murderous. The whole affair sounds much more like the work of a ruthless man like Rittius. There's a man who'd have no qualms about organising a few deaths. And I could easily see him betraying the city for money.

Unfortunately nothing points in his direction, and he was never in a position to poison the pastry. Now I think about it, he was alone in the corridor with Bevarius for a while. Neither of them was near the food though. Bevarius's partner in crime has to be someone else.

I ask Makri where Herminis is and she says they've moved her to a secret location.

'Is that secret location my office?'

'No.'

I leave her to translate the Orcish paper while I go downstairs and get myself outside a substantial helping of everything on the menu. It takes more than a brush with death to affect my appetite. Viriggax and his mercenaries are drinking steadily at a table nearby. Young Toraggax is pouring a huge flagon of ale down his throat, urged on by his companions. Being new to the brigade, he doesn't want to lag behind in the drinking, but he's looking a little the worse for wear. As he finishes the tankard, Viriggax claps him heartily on the back and pushes another one into his hand.

I find myself nodding off in the chair, so I take myself off to my room, drink a last beer, then fall asleep.

Deep into the night I'm woken by noises outside. Someone is clumping around in the corridor. It's long past the hour when anyone in the tavern should be awake. I throw on a tunic, grab my sword and whisper a word to my illuminated staff, bringing forth a dim light, I open my door carefully, wary of attackers. Some way along the corridor I find Makri in the process of hauling an unconscious Toraggax out of her room. Makri's a lot stronger than she looks but she's having some difficulty in moving the huge mercenary.

'Need a hand?'

Makri spins round and looks guilty.

'No,' she replies.

I look down at the unconscious man.

'What happened? You slug him when he tried to sneak into your room?'

'He didn't sneak in. He knocked on the door and I let him in.'

And you slugged him when he started getting amorous?'