Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Dance of Death

“I am aware of these matters.”

“Then stop whining on about Lisutaris’s masked ball like a spoiled young princess and do some investigating.”

I sit down at my desk and drag a new bottle of beer from the drawer.

“I thought I’d just drink some beer instead. You investigate. Finest flower in Turai indeed. After you’ve investigated you can go and be Captain of Horm’s armies. Have a good time.”

“It couldn’t be worse than listening to you.”

“Maybe not. But if he tries to make you his bride, watch out. You might have to be dead first.”

“What do you mean?” says Makri, curiously.

“Horm the Dead is rumoured to actually have been dead. Died by his own hand then returned from the grave in some evil ritual known only to himself.”

“Why would anyone do that?” wonders Makri.

“Presumably the death-ritual gave him unearthly powers. I don’t know if any of it’s really true. He might just be pretending to have been dead to impress people.”

“He does look very pale,” says Makri.

“Not too pale to clutter up my office and go around kissing people’s hands.”

“Thraxas, that barely makes sense.”

“Not too pale to go to Lisutaris’s ball and spend the night dancing with a bunch of senators who’ve never done an honest day’s work in their lives.”

Makri wonders out loud at my intransigence and stupidity. I continue to drink beer. After a while she departs.

It’s hot as Orcish hell in here. I detest this city and everyone in it. It’s intensely annoying the way everyone is always playing up to Makri. The finest flower in Turai! It’s ridiculous. An Orcish savage in a ludicrous bikini more like. Unable to find any more beer in my desk, I go through to my only other room and hunt under the bed for my emergency supply.

[Contents]

Chapter Fourteen

The city is full of mythical creatures and dead Humans. Reports from all sides indicate an unexplained outbreak of unicorns, centaurs, naiads, dryads and mermaids. No harm is caused by these creatures—they tend to vanish when pursued—but it makes the population edgy. The thought of Orcish invasion is never far below the conscious thoughts of the citizenry, and anything strange or unexplained tends to be thought of as an evil portent.

I’ve been chasing round the city looking for a powerful sorcerous item. Strange sorcerous events are now happening. It doesn’t take a genius to think they might be connected, but if they are, no one knows why, not even Lisutaris. Furthermore, there seem to be too many of these occurrences for them all to be linked to one missing green jewel, even if the green jewel could produce these events, which it can’t.

As for the dead Humans, it’s another epidemic. Everywhere the authorities look, they find another group of corpses. Some with wounds, some just dead for no apparent reason. Again, it’s hard to link this exactly to the missing pendant. At the exact same time as three market workers are found dead in the centre of town, four aqueduct maintenance men are found slaughtered in Pashish. Lisutaris’s pendant can’t be causing it all, and in a city where death is a common occurrence, it’s impossible to work out which of the fatalities might be linked to the pendant.

After waking with a headache, and visiting the public baths to cleanse myself of the accumulated filth of several days’ activity in hot weather, I go to see Cicerius at the Abode of Justice. He’s already aware of the charge which has been laid against me.

“I don’t sympathise in the slightest,” he says.

“Thanks for your support.”

“You were clearly warned that trouble would arise from your use of the Tribunate powers.”

“But I did it anyway. And now I’m in trouble.”

“You are, though personally I do not believe the charge of throwing away your shield and fleeing the battlefield,” says Cicerius. “I studied your record quite carefully before I first hired you to work for me. As I recall, you were an insubordinate soldier but your valour was never questioned. But I cannot have the charge dropped. The matter must go before a Senate committee, and until then your Tribune’s powers are revoked, as is your investigating licence.”

“Can’t you use your influence? My accuser is Vadinex and he works for Praetor Capatius.”

Cicerius knows Capatius very well. Not only is the Praetor the richest man in the city, he’s a senior member of the Traditionals, Cicerius’s party.

“Last year I got in Capatius’s way and now he’s getting his revenge. Can’t you get him off my back?”

The Deputy Consul is unenthusiastic, though he knows I’m speaking the truth when I claim he owes me a favour.

“Were you with Vadinex at the Battle of Sanasa?”

“We were in the same regiment. I don’t remember ever being close to him on the battlefield. But I was with plenty of other men who are still alive today who’ll testify on my behalf.”

“So you hope, Thraxas. My experience as a lawyer has taught me that men’s memories can be strangely affected by the passage of seventeen years. And they can be affected a good deal more by bribery. A charge of this sort, brought after so many years, will not be easy to defend in court if your opponents have planned it well.”

Cicerius muses for a while.

“I really doubt that Capatius is behind this charge.”

“He has to be. Vadinex is his man.”

“Even so, I doubt it. It is true that you inconvenienced Praetor Capatius last year, but the inconvenience was minor by his standards. A mere blip in his considerable income. I have seen the Praetor many times since then and he has never given me the impression that he holds any strong grudge against you. I am aware that you do not trust him, but I believe him to be far more honest than you give him credit for. Like many rich men, he has suffered at the hands of the Populares, who are always keen to accuse any worthy supporter of the King of corruption. Capatius himself fought bravely in the war, with a cohort he raised and equipped at his own expense. In my experience, it is rare for a man who fought in that campaign to raise a false charge against another who also fought. It would go against his sense of military honour.”

I’m not convinced. Capatius is obscenely wealthy. I can’t believe anyone could get to be so rich and still have a sense of honour.

“You offended many people when you prevented a full investigation of Lisutaris’s actions at the warehouse,” points out the Deputy Consul. “Far more likely that one of them would now wish to see you punished. Rittius, for instance. The head of Palace Security has long disliked you.”

“Yes, it’s possible it’s Rittius. But my instinct tells me that Capatius has put Vadinex up to it. So I appeal to you to make efforts on my behalf. Because as you will understand, Deputy Consul, if I’m dragged before a Senate committee on a charge of cowardice, I’ll be obliged to kill my accuser and flee the city.”

Cicerius looks shocked.

“You will obey the law of Turai,” he informs me sternly.

“Absolutely.”

“While you are here,” says Cicerius, “would you care to tell me the precise nature of the difficulties that Lisutaris finds herself in?”

“No real difficulties, Deputy Consul. A minor matter of a missing diary.”

I intimate that I am unable to say more due to Investigator-client privilege.

“You have no such privileges. Your licence has been suspended.”

“Then I’ve suffered a sudden loss of memory.”

“Yesterday a unicorn wandered through the Senate while I was speaking,” says Cicerius.

“That must have livened things up.”

“My speech did not need to be livened up. It was already quite lively enough. Do you have any idea why these creatures should suddenly be infesting the city?”