Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Elvish Isles

“I arrest you in the name of Lord Kalith-ar-Yil.”

I’m surrounded by nine Elves in Kalith’s regalia, swords at the ready.

“Try to say a spell and we’ll run you through before you utter a word.”

Their leader snatches the packet from me.

“Do you have an explanation for this?” he demands.

I do, but I’m not going to waste it on him. They’re going to take me to Kalith-ar-Yil anyway, so I might as well save my breath till I get there. I’m led through the clearing and up the long ladders to the Tree Palace, where they put me in a small cell with one chair and a nice view of the tree tops through the barred window.

“There are guards outside the window with bows. If you try to escape they have instructions to shoot. We do not take kindly to peddlers of drugs on Avula.”

I’m left alone. I sit on the chair. Somehow none of this has come as a surprise. I’ve been thrown in jail so many times in Turai and elsewhere in the west that it was probably only a matter of time before I ended up in an Elvish prison.

[Contents]

Chapter Fourteen

The prison cell is clean and airy. There’s a pitcher of water on the table and shortly after I arrive a guard brings me a loaf of bread. The sun streams in through the window and from somewhere in the forest below I can hear a choir practising. In terms of comfort it doesn’t compare too badly with my rooms in the Avenging Axe.

The first person to visit me is Ambassador Turius. I have not yet encountered our Ambassador to Avula, so I greet him warmly and thank him for arriving so swiftly.

“It’s reassuring to know that our Ambassadors are resolute in their task of protecting Turanian citizens unjustly incarcerated in foreign lands. Once you get me out of here, I shall speak very highly of you to Deputy Consul Cicerius.”

“I haven’t come to get you out,” says the Ambassador.

“You haven’t?”

“No. As far as I’m concerned you can stay here for the rest of your life. Everyone advised you to keep out of Elvish affairs. You refused to listen to this advice. Now you’re in a cell, which is exactly what was to be expected.”

“Aren’t you bothered about whether I actually committed a crime?”

The ambassador shrugs. “If you did, Lord Kalith-ar-Yil will punish you. If you didn’t, he’ll let you go in due course. He’s a fair-minded Elf.”

“Then why the hell did you bother coming to see me?”

“A Turanian Ambassador always does his duty. I see you have food and water. Excellent. Your needs are being well catered for. Now goodbye.”

Turius departs. I swear he enjoyed that conversation. I sit down and listen to the choir, and wonder who Turius bribed to get his cushy job as Ambassador to Avula.

My next visitor is an Elf of advanced years who informs me that his name is Rekis-ar-Lin and he is a member of the Council of Elders. He’s accompanied by a scribe who takes down our conversation.

“I have been given responsibility for investigating this matter. Why were you found with a package of dwa?”

“I took it out of the pool.”

“How did it get there?”

I tell him I’ve no idea.

“And how did you come to find it?”

“I looked.”

“Why?”

“Investigator’s intuition.”

Councillor Rekis is dubious, but I don’t want to tell him that I used a spell to locate the dwa because I know that will only lead to more trouble. However the Councillor has difficulty believing that, with all the Elves in the area, it just happened to be me who found a packet of dwa in the pool.

“It seems to us more likely that you brought the dwa with you from Turai.”

“Why would I do that? Everyone knows Elves don’t go for dwa. Doesn’t work on them.”

“You would no doubt be aware that there would be many Humans on the island at the time of the festival. Perhaps you wished to sell it to them. Perhaps you yourself are so addicted that you were unable to travel without it. Either way, you are not telling me everything you know. You will provide me with a precise description of your actions since landing on Avula.”

I clam up. Any time I’m in a cell, I just get wary about giving precise descriptions of my actions. We’re interrupted by the arrival of Jir-ar-Eth, Kalith’s Chief Sorcerer. He stares at me for a few seconds.

“He used a spell,” he says. “But I can’t tell which one.”

Councillor Rekis stares at me coldly.

“You used a spell in the vicinity of the Hesuni Tree? On Avula, that is calanith. It is also a crime. What was it?”

“A love spell. I’m looking for romance.”

Jir-ar-Eth speaks a few words and there is a slight cooling of the air in the cell.

“I’ve dampened the area,” he says to Rekis. “The prisoner will not be able to use sorcery to escape. He has very little power anyway.”

The Sorcerer stares at the necklace I’m wearing.

“A spell protection charm? With Red Elvish Cloth? Where did you get that?”

“Just picked it up along the way.”

They leave me alone. I eat bread. I’m feeling hard done by. For the rest of the day my only other visitor is the guard who brings me some food. I demand to see Lord Kalith. The guard, rather politely, informs me that Lord Kalith is busy.

Night falls. I’ve been in so many cells it doesn’t particularly bother me, but I’m annoyed at the waste of my time. Shouldn’t someone have been here to help? Deputy Consul Cicerius for instance. Or Makri. She ought to at least have visited me. Maybe she’s still tormenting the unfortunate Elf child. I go to sleep madder than a mad dragon and I wake slightly madder.

It’s approaching lunchtime and it’s getting to the stage where I’m seriously considering slugging the next person who comes into my cell and risking a jail break when Lord Kalith finally gets round to paying me a visit.

“Dwa is a filthy drug,” he says, getting right down to business. “It is a curse on the Human Lands. It has never been seen on Avula before.”

“Only because you didn’t bother to look. And don’t lecture me about using a spell in the vicinity of the Hesuni Tree. If I hadn’t done that you’d never have known about the dwa.”

“You still claim that you did not bring the substance with you?”

“Of course I didn’t. Do you seriously believe I did?”

“Why would I not?” says the Elf Lord. “You have hardly shown yourself to be a man of sober habits. You brought a barrel of beer on to my ship and when you finished that you resorted to theft to meet your craving. You may have thought you were unobserved when you removed three large wineskins from Osath’s kitchen, but I assure you that you were not. Since arriving on Avula you have mounted an almost continual search for beer, culminating in what I am reliably informed were scenes of unheard-of excess at the haunt of the armourers. And this only the day after you and your female companion ingested so much thazis as to be unable to remember your own identities. The story of you talking to the butterflies has been widely reported all over Avula.”

“I was not talking to the butterflies,” I reply, with some dignity. “And is there any point to all this?”

“The point is that you are a corrupting influence. Thazis is not illegal on Avula, but we discourage its use. Now one of my most respected councillors informs me that not only did he find three thazis sticks in his daughter’s room, but she has informed him that she wishes to travel to Turai to write poetry. His wife is now terrified that their daughter will return home with a pierced nose and an Orcish love-child.”

We seem to be straying from the point here. I tell Lord Kalith-ar-Yil that he can criticise me as much as he likes, but he can’t deny that I’ve dug up evidence of some strange goings-on on his island.