Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Sorcerers

[Contents]

Chapter Seventeen

I wake up in my chair with a bottle in my lap and a pain in my neck. It’s morning. The fire has gone out and my room is freezing. Princess Direeva is sitting on the couch, reading my book of spells.

“Very out of date,” she says. “Sorcery has moved on since this was printed.”

“I haven’t.”

“You never qualified. Why not?”

“I was never good at studying. Why are you here?”

My doors are secured with a locking spell, but a Sorcerer like Direeva can walk right through any of my minor incantations.

“Are you cold?” she asks, as she sees me shiver.

“I’m cold.”

Direeva waves her hand. My fire bursts into life.

“Very clever. You got a spell for tidying my room?”

“I have,” says Direeva. “But you wouldn’t like it.”

“I take it you didn’t come to Twelve Seas just to demonstrate your power?”

“Lighting a fire requires very little power. I really wonder why you didn’t pursue your apprenticeship.”

“Change the subject. First thing in the morning, I hate talking about me failing.”

“As you wish.”

The Princess has never shown any signs of liking me. Sitting in my office she still has something of a disdainful air, as if she’d rather be elsewhere. It’s annoying. It’s not like I insisted on her visiting. She’s welcome to go and disdain somewhere else.

I ask her if news of Lisutaris’s detection as a murderer has reached the ears of the Assemblage. It hasn’t. Apparently Tilupasis has succeeded in silencing Lasat, Axe of Gold. You have to admire that woman. It takes nerve to blackmail a Sorcerer who could stop your heart beating with one of his lesser spells.

“As far as the Assemblage knows, Lisutaris is in the happy position of coming second in the election and is now about to face the final test. Which is why I am here. I’m concerned for her safety. It occurs to me that Covinius may decide that the magic space is a very good place in which to kill her.”

I don’t get this. Lisutaris and Sunstorm Ramius will have to enter the magic space to carry out the final test, whatever that may be, but the magic space in question will not be open to the public.

“How? Charius the Wise will create the magic space when he sets the test. Lisutaris and Ramius will walk into it. No one else will be there.”

“Is Covinius not the master Assassin?” says Direeva. “May he not have means of following them? A person can die in the magic space just as well as anywhere else. The unpredictability of the dimension could make even a strong Sorcerer like Lisutaris vulnerable to his attack.”

There’s something in what the Princess says. Out in the street, Covinius couldn’t fire a dart into Lisutaris. Her protection spells would deflect it. But in the peculiar realm which is the magic space, they might not. Nothing is ever certain there. It’s not a good place to visit.

I pile a few more logs into the hearth. I’ll miss it when these Sorcerers are no longer around to light my Fire.

“I intend to follow Lisutaris into the magic space,” says Direeva. “That way I can watch over her.”

“Since when are you so concerned about Lisutaris? Only yesterday you weren’t even sure who you were going to vote for.”

“Makri won me over with her strong arguments,” says Direeva, and almost smiles.

I doubt this is the whole truth. Direeva’s father, ruler of the Southern Hills, probably isn’t going to last much longer. Quite possibly Turai has secretly offered the Princess aid if she decides to dispute the succession with her brother. Even so, I wouldn’t be surprised if Makri’s demonstration of strength did influence the Princess. It certainly made Troverus look less impressive.

“I never really cared for the Simnian,” says Direeva. “Lisutaris will be a better head of the Guild.”

“Charius and Lasat won’t allow anyone else into the magic space.”

“I believe I can secretly open a portal which will allow access. Before Lisutaris starts the test I will use a spell to connect us.”

“How difficult is that? Could other Sorcerers do it?”

“Possibly.”

“Then we might have company.”

I’ve wondered for a while why Sunstorm Ramius and his Simnian delegation haven’t been doing more in the way of bribery. They’ve seemed content to let Turai do its worst. Almost as if they were confident of winning the final test no matter what. Direeva’s notion makes me wonder if they might be planning to send some help of their own into the magic space.

“If you’re going in I want to come with you.”

“You do? I was thinking more of Makri.”

“No doubt she’ll insist on coming.”

The dragon scales in Direeva’s hair glint in the firelight, casting small flashes of reflected colour on to the walls.

“You ever work a spell with those dragon scales?”

Direeva shakes her head.

“No. I just buy them to decorate my hair. Where is Makri?”

“I don’t know. Last time I saw her she was going to watch Lisutaris’s back. If Lisutaris hasn’t been denounced as a murderer she should be with her in her villa.”

“Then we should go there,” suggests Direeva. “And make preparations.”

I stretch. My neck hurts. I shouldn’t fall asleep in chairs. I wonder if Direeva could fix it with a spell. I’m not going to ask. I’m hungry. I’d go and buy pastry from Minarixa’s bakery if Minarixa wasn’t dead from dwa. I get my cloak. It’s cold. I don’t heat it up. I don’t want to show my poor magical skills in front of a major Sorcerer. I take a quick beer from downstairs and ask Tanrose to throw some salted venison in a bag for me.

Direeva has a carriage outside, driven by two of her attendants, each bearing the insignia of the royal house of the Southern Hills. They’re grim men, and remain silent on the journey. I poke around in my bag and take out a hunk of venison. Direeva looks startled.

“I did not invite you to eat in my carriage.”

“I didn’t invite you to visit me and interrupt my breakfast.”

“I do not allow people to speak to me like that in the Southern Hills.”

“Since you got drunk and collapsed on my floor, I figure I don’t have to worry about etiquette.”

I’m angry. Angry that I’m making no progress. And angry at Direeva for thinking she can waltz into my rooms without an invitation. Direeva is displeased at my lack of civility and we ride in silence to the villa. There we find various servants, but no sign of Lisutaris or Makri.

“Copro is attending to the Mistress of the Sky.”

We wait in silence. It’s the day of the final test and I can already feel some tension. I don’t trust the Simnians. And Covinius will finally show his face, I’m sure.

Cicerius is expecting me to come up with something to clear Lisutaris. I haven’t. It’s a long time since I failed so badly on an important case. Makri arrives downstairs after ten minutes or so. Although her nails are freshly painted, she’s frowning. Makri knows that she’s in for a hard time if it all goes wrong and she finds herself being interrogated by the Civil Guard. The guards are not going to go easy on an alien woman with Orc blood who can’t come up with a good explanation as to why her knife was sticking in the corpse.

“I’ll kill them all and leave the city,” she mutters. “I don’t suppose you’ve achieved a fantastic breakthrough?”

“Not yet. But I have some good news. We’re sneaking into the magic space to help Lisutaris in the test.”

“Good,” says Makri. “Will it clear her name?”

“No. I’m still working on that.”

Direeva expresses some contempt for my powers of investigation.