Martin Scott - Thraxas at the races

“No.”

“Prospecting has been continuing for some years, and is now about to pay dividends. You will appreciate the importance of this to the state. Small as we are in size, we depend on our wealth for our security. You are of course aware that there have for some years been border disputes with Nioj?”

Nioj, our northern neighbour, is always finding some reason to start a border dispute. We already have gold mines along the boundaries of our two nations and they would love to get their hands on them. In fact, right before the last Orc War Nioj invaded Turai. Only the arrival of the Orcs brought that war to an end as we Humans were obliged to forget our differences and unite to face the common enemy.

“Well, once more, the territory is disputed. Although the deposits of copper are clearly on land that belongs historically to Turai, Nioj has been making inroads and may even be about to claim it as hers.”

Cicerius pulls a map from his toga and spreads it on the desk. He points to the mountainous area where the northeastern part of our territory meets the far larger state of Nioj.

“The next territory along is Carsan, populated mainly by nomadic tribes with little state authority. Carsan is in fact under the strong influence of its eastern neighbour Soraz, which sits firmly in the Wastelands between us and the Orcs. And its effective ruler is Lord Rezaz Caseg. To make things as simple as possible, we need support from Carsan to keep hold of the copper mines. And we can’t get support from Carsan unless Soraz allows it.”

“So we have to be nice to Lord Rezaz Caseg?”

I look at the map. Soraz looks a long way away.

“Do we really need support from them? What about the League of City-States?” About a hundred years ago all the small states in the region banded together to protect ourselves from large predatory countries like Nioj.

“We can no longer count on much support from that direction.”

I knew that before I asked. The League has been crumbling for a decade, pulled to pieces by the selfishness of its members, including Turai.

“Now do you understand why we wish to accommodate the Orc Lord?”

“Just about. But I don’t like it.”

“Your likes are of no concern to the King or the Consul.”

“So I understand. But what’s this got to do with chariot racing anyway?”

“Lord Rezaz Caseg is a keen racer, apparently. Furthermore, he has let us know, through diplomatic channels, that he has not forgotten the Elf Lord Lisith-ar-Moh. They fought hand to hand underneath the walls of Turai, but were separated by the press of bodies before a fatal blow could be struck. He tells us that while he respects Lord Lisith-ar-Moh as a soldier he would be pleased to match him in the Stadium.

“The King believes that Rezaz may have other motives. He is under some pressure at home in Soraz from his rival, Prince Kalazar, who is supported by Makeza the Thunderer, a very powerful Orcish Sorcerer. Together they have had some success in gaining support. We believe that Lord Rezaz may be seeking to increase his prestige by defeating the Elvish chariot. Furthermore, with a powerful rival like Prince Kalazar waiting in the wings, he can’t allow any instability in the region. If this understanding ensures peace, everyone will benefit.”

I don’t believe that we’ll ever get any benefit from co-operating with Orcs but Cicerius isn’t interested in my opinion.

“The arrival of an Orcish chariot and racing crew will cause some concern in the city,” continues Cicerius. “It is possible that there may be objections.”

“Objections? There’ll be a riot.”

“Let the government deal with riots. You protect against sabotage. If anything goes wrong, you may have the chance to use your investigative powers to put it right. The King is depending on you.”

Cicerius turns to Makri. “You will appreciate why I also need your help. Very few people in Turai have your grasp of the Orcish language. That, allied with your fighting skills, makes you an ideal person to assist Thraxas in this potentially difficult endeavour.”

Makri has been standing there all this time speechless. She now raises her sword slightly—a terrible breach of etiquette in the presence of the Deputy Consul—and then spits on my floor.

“I’d kill you, the King and all his children before I protected an Orc.”

Well, you can’t make it clearer than that.

Cicerius looks puzzled.

“You are particularly averse to Orcs?”

“I am,” explodes Makri. “I was born in an Orcish slave pit. I lived as a slave till I killed my own Orc Lord and most of his household a year ago. And if you take on the job, Thraxas, I’m leaving.”

“I’m not taking it,” I say, quite emphatically. “Already people talk about bad luck falling on Turai because we have Orcish Ambassadors here. If more of them appear then every time something goes wrong—from a cup getting broken to a child dying—it will be blamed on them. Senator Lodius’s Populares won’t have to encourage the population to riot. They’ll be out doing it for themselves in no time. Anyone trying to protect the Orcs would soon find their life wasn’t worth living. He’d be the most hated man in the city. Protect an Orc? Not me.”

Cicerius leans towards me. “Yes, Thraxas, you will. The alternative is losing your Investigator’s licence.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Not fair? I doubt the King would worry himself overmuch about some slight injustice if his wishes were ignored. I myself would not countenance a breach of the law, but consider. You have recently been convicted in court of assaulting an officer of the King. You are at present on bail, suspected of murdering Senator Mursius. It would be entirely right and proper to remove your licence. However, I will stretch a point, provided you do as I request. And you will be well paid.”

“Doesn’t it worry you that Orcs are sneaking, treacherous, murderous animals who’d like nothing more than to wipe us off the face of the earth?” I fume.

“Not at this moment,” replies the Deputy Consul. “We need that copper.”

I ask him when the Orcs are arriving.

“The chariot is coming in by ship in a week or so. Lord Rezaz is already in the city. So is his charioteer. We brought them in discreetly a few days ago. Do not mention this to anyone.”

I won’t. The thought that Rezaz the Butcher is actually in Turai at this moment makes me tremble with rage.

Cicerius turns to Makri.

“How is Professor Toarius?”

“What?” says Makri, surprised.

“Your Professor at the Guild College. I understand he dislikes you.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me when he was my guest for dinner last week.”

Makri shifts uncomfortably, not liking the way this conversation is going.

“He does not approve of women attending the College and would rather you were not there. He can fail you at any time, and fully intends to do so.”

“But I’m a good student!”

“I don’t doubt it. Unfortunately the Professor’s word will be final. After all, his academic status far outshines that of anyone else at the Guild College. He is seconded there from the Imperial University as a favour to the lower orders by the Consul. If he refuses to pass you then you will not proceed to the next year. If that happens you will never gain the qualifications you require for the University.”

Makri takes a stride back towards Cicerius. She tells him straight out that she doesn’t like being blackmailed into doing anything. Cicerius gives the slightest of shrugs, implying that it doesn’t matter to him if she likes it or not.

“Are you saying you’ll get me into the University if I help?”

“No. The Imperial University does not accept women. Nor anyone with Orcish blood. That is more than I can promise. But I will persuade Professor Toarius to pass you at College, providing your work is acceptable. I understand from other sources that it is indeed of good quality.”