Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Dance of Death

“None at all.”

“Nothing to do with our powerful Sorceress Lisutaris?”

“Not as far as I know.”

Cicerius dismisses me. I’m fairly satisfied with the meeting. He might help. If nothing else, I’ve ascended the social ladder a fraction in the last year. Not too long ago I’d never have been granted permission to see the Deputy Consul, never mind ask him for a favour.

Halfway between Cicerius’s office and the outskirts of Thamlin, I encounter a figure walking briskly up the road in a cloak and hood which hides her features.

“Makri? What are you doing here?”

Makri pulls back her hood a little.

“I’m in disguise.”

“I can see that. Why?”

“I’m going to kill Vadinex.”

“What? Why?”

Makri shrugs.

“I thought I’d help you.”

“How were you going to find him?”

“Call in at Praetor Capatius’s mansion and find out from someone there where he was likely to be.”

“And then go and kill him?”

“That’s right. If he was dead, there wouldn’t be a charge against you, would there?”

I’m almost touched by Makri’s concern.

“It’s not a bad plan. But I’ve just asked the Deputy Consul to intervene on my behalf and I don’t want to offend him by killing Vadinex before it’s absolutely necessary.”

Makri shrugs. She hasn’t asked me a single question about the Battle of Sanasa because, I know, she does not regard it as possible that I fled the field. I remember that I’m friends with Makri and feel bad about giving her a hard time.

“I’m about to hunt through some taverns in Kushni for Barius, Professor Toarius’s son. I think that if we apply some pressure we might get to the bottom of this theft at the college.”

Makri wants to come along, so we set off towards the centre of the city.

“Was it a really bad disguise?” asks Makri.

“Not too bad. But I recognised your walk.”

“I didn’t really need a disguise at all, but I thought if I killed Vadinex it would be better if people didn’t know it was me that did it. You know, with us living in the same tavern. It might have cast suspicion on you.”

“I appreciate you making the effort. I’m sorry I moaned at you.”

“It was more than moaning. It was vilification and character assassination.”

“Surely not.”

“You called me a vile Orcish wench.”

“Then I apologise for any offence. As always, I meant it in a positive sense.”

The heat is stifling. Makri removes her cloak as we walk through the dusty streets.

“I did mess things up with Tanrose. When I suggested she take some time to think about her feelings, I wasn’t expecting her to leave the tavern.”

“It’s not really your fault, Makri. The problem is with Gurd. He’s been a bachelor so long, he’s scared to acknowledge any sort of affection for her. That’s why he started criticising her bookkeeping.”

“To disguise his affection?”

“Yes.”

Makri nods.

“I have encountered this sort of thing in the plays of the Elvish bard Las-ar-Heth. Not concerning bookkeeping, but similar. The great Elvish lord Avenath-ir-Yill once made his queen cry by accusing her of infidelity with a unicorn, but really he was just upset because she no longer played the harp to him at bedtime. The reason for this was that her hands were sore from plaiting the unicorn’s mane, which she had to do to keep her son alive, but of course she couldn’t explain this to her husband without letting him know about the curse which hung over her family.”

My head is starting to spin.

“This is similar to Gurd and Tanrose?”

“Very. A frank exchange of views would have resolved the problem, but they both had secrets they didn’t want to reveal. Eventually, of course, it led to the great schism between the tribes of Yill and Evena, which, I understand, is not fully resolved even now.”

“You read all this in a play?”

Makri nods. She is apparently a great enthusiast for the plays of the Elvish bard Las-ar-Heth.

“Quite an unconventional rhyme scheme, and rather archaic in tone, but very stirring.”

“I’ll read some at the first opportunity,” I say, which makes Makri laugh, which she doesn’t do that often.

“Is that a mermaid in that fountain?”

We stare across the road at the large fountain. Sitting at the feet of the statue of St. Quatinius there is indeed a mermaid. Children laugh, and point. The mermaid smiles seductively, then fades away.

“Turai is becoming a very interesting place. Are we all going mad?”

“I don’t know. At least it’s only friendly creatures who’ve been appearing. It’s not going to be much fun if dragons start roaming the streets.”

“I liked the frogs,” says Makri.

By this time we’re passing through the royal market, just north of Kushni, one of Turai’s main concentrations of goods for sale. The shops here sell clothes, jewellery, wine, weapons, expensive goods mainly. The market stalls sell foodstuffs but are very different from the cheap markets of Twelve Seas. Here the servants of the rich come to order household provisions from market traders whose stalls are full of the highest-quality fare, often imported from the nations to the west, or even the Elvish Isles.

Makri stares through the window of a jeweller’s shop.

“Who earns enough to buy these things?” she wonders out loud.

A young woman emerges from the shop, followed by two servants. When she sees Makri she gives her the slightest of nods before passing by. I ask Makri who the young woman was.

“Avenaris. Lisutaris’s secretary.”

I’m already in pursuit. I’ve been forbidden to question this young woman. Always makes an Investigator suspicious. I cut her off with my bulk. She regards me rather nervously. I introduce myself but she already knows who I am.

“I was wondering if you could help me with a few questions.”

“Lisutaris would not wish me to talk about her business with anyone,” says Avenaris. “Even an Investigator she hired. Excuse me.”

She tries to walk past. I get in the way. She’s looking very, very nervous. More nervous than she should be. I’m not that frightening, not in daylight anyway. Not frightening enough to make a person develop a facial tic within seconds of meeting me, yet Avenaris’s eyelid is starting to tremble violently.

“Maybe you could just tell me a little about what happened that day at the stadium—”

“What is going on here?”

It’s Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky.

“Did I not specifically tell you to leave my secretary alone?”

“He stood in my way,” says Avenaris, making it sound like a major crime. She’s now close to tears.

“I’m sorry,” says Lisutaris, attempting to pacify her. “He really had no business bothering you. Go home now, I’ll make sure he doesn’t trouble you again.”

Avenaris walks off swiftly, still attended by the servants. The Sorceress regards me with fury.

“How dare you harass my staff!”

“Save the lecture, Lisutaris. What’s the matter with her? I asked her a polite question and she practically broke down in tears.”

“She is a young woman of nervous disposition. Far too delicate to be confronted by the likes of you. I must insist—”

“You should’ve let me talk to her. I get the strong impression she knows something.”

“Do I have to remind you that Avenaris is my niece? I did not hire you to harass my family. For the last time, stay away from my secretary.”

Lisutaris looks genuinely threatening. I drop the subject, for now anyway. I’ll pursue it later, no matter what Lisutaris says.

“Encountered any unicorns?” I ask.

“No. But there were two mermaids in my fish ponds, albeit briefly. I’m baffled. They’re obviously sorcerous apparitions but I can’t trace their source.”