Thraxas of Turai - Thraxas Book Eleven

Chapter Three

We advance steadily till the early afternoon when the trumpets sound, calling a halt. If we’re following standard practice we should have about an hour before we move on again. My wagon is not far behind Lisutaris’s entourage and as we come to a halt I stand on the pillion, squinting against the bright sun, wondering if Makri might be in view. She usually remains close to Lisutaris, but our War Leader does exclude her from the most secret meetings with her army chiefs. I spot her right away, distinctive in her light Orcish armour with her long hair hanging down her back. I instruct my unit not to eat all the food while I’m gone then hurry through the ranks of the Sorcerers Auxiliary Regiment.

‘Banished from a secret meeting again?’

Makri grunts. She doesn’t like it when this happens, feeling that her job is to be close to Lisutaris at all times.

‘I need to talk to you anyway. I could do with your opinion.’

Makri is a little shorter than me. She’s strong and lithe, with a sword at each hip. One is a bright Elvish blade, a beautiful weapon from the Isle of Avula. The other is a black Orcish sword, brought with her from the east. No-one one else in our army carries such a weapon. Most people wouldn’t even go near it. Makri keeps it sheathed as even the sight of it would cause offence to the Elves. Her light Orcish armour, leather and chainmail, makes her stand out, though she stands out anyway, with her reddish skin. It’s struck me before that it’s perverse of Makri to insist on wearing the Orcish armour and carrying the Orcish blade, while also insisting that she hates Orcs so much. Her reasoning is that these are good quality items she’s used to, but I wonder if there’s something else behind it. Some part of her that refuses to let go entirely of her upbringing, even though she was a slave and a gladiator, which she hated. Perhaps a refusal to acknowledge the universal opinion in these parts that the west is superior to the east? I can’t say for sure.

‘I have two murders to investigate. I should be examining the crime scenes but Lisutaris decided to advance so I can’t. Do you know why Lisutaris picked this moment to move?’

Makri thinks it might have something to do with the arrival of Arichdamis from Samsarina.

‘Arichdamis? King Gardos’s mathematician? What does he have to do with anything?’

‘I’m not sure,’ says Makri. ‘But he spent a long time talking in private to Lisutaris. Soon after that we were ready to move.’

‘Is this something to do with his new sighting device?’

Arichdamis, as well as being a mathematician - finest in the west, according to Makri - is also a scientist and inventor. In Samsarina he was working on a new type of sight for fitting on a large, mounted crossbow, the intention being to aim the weapon rapidly and accurately enough to bring down a dragon. It was an interesting idea but I didn’t think it was near to completion. Makri doesn’t know anything about Arichdamis’s current activities, or why he’s here. I notice she keeps glancing back towards our Commanders encampment.

‘Are you eager to leave?’

‘No.’

‘You seem nervous.’

‘What do you mean, nervous?’ Makri raises her voice. ‘I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?’

‘The two men who were killed. One Niojan captain, one Samsarinan major. You may remember the Samsarinan. His name was Magranos.’

Makri hesitates. ‘I don’t recall the name.’

‘Makri, you’re a terrible liar.’

‘I am not a terrible liar. I’ve been learning your technique.’

‘I can tell you’re lying now.’

‘That still doesn’t mean I’m a terrible liar. You should learn some basic logic, Thraxas, it might help you.’

‘About Magranos…’

‘I knew this would happen!’ cries Makri, becoming agitated. ‘Someone gets murdered and it’s blame the Orc woman! I’m disappointed in you, Thraxas. It’s very offensive.’

‘Please. Drop the outrage. You know very well why I’m suspicious. Back in Samsarina you threatened to kill Magranos.’

‘I’ve threatened to kill a lot of people.’

‘And you’ve killed a lot of them too. I wouldn’t use that as a defence. Did you have anything to do with his death?’

‘No.’

‘Are you quite sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure! How could I not be sure about that?’

I stare at Makri. She’s uncomfortable, but whether that’s from guilt, or simply annoyance at my suspicions, I can’t tell. ‘You hated it that he was responsible for Alceten’s death.’

‘Of course I did,’ says Makri, hotly. ‘She was murdered and no one did anything about it.’

Back in Samsarina there was an ugly affair involving fraud and bankruptcy. Young Alceten ended up dead as a result. As the affair involved important Barons it was hushed up. No charges were laid. Makri is irate at the memory. ‘He should have been tried. Why should he get away with murdering a young woman just because he’s chief steward to some baron?’

‘The King wouldn’t have let it go to trial. He couldn’t afford to have his senior aristocracy dragged through the mud when the nation was gearing up for war.’

‘Magranos deserved to die. But I didn’t kill him.’

‘If you did kill him, just tell me. It will make my life simpler. I’ll keep your name out of it.’

Makri is looking increasingly angry. ‘How may times do I have to say it? I didn’t kill him. What about the other murder? Isn’t it more likely they’re connected?’

‘They might be. Or they might not. Captain Istaros was at the card game hosted by General Maldon. When I left he was still healthy but he never made it back to his unit. He was found lying in the bushes, stabbed in the back. As for Magranos–’

I pause as a messenger hurries past. Lisutaris has a unit made up of young messengers who can often be seen scurrying in all directions.

‘–He was found dead too. He’d been stabbed. Not in the back. In the chest. Through the heart. Quite a precise wound, according to Anumaris. Probably done by an experienced swordfighter. One that wouldn’t have wanted to stab a person in the back.’

Makri prepares to become upset again. We’re interrupted by the arrival of another messenger. ‘Ensign Makri, Commander Lisutaris requires your presence. Captain Thraxas, she also wants you.’

The messenger hurries off. We walk towards the War Leader’s tent.

‘How’s Lisutaris’s thazis intake these days?’

‘That’s secret information I’m not allowed to divulge,’ replies Makri, who’s still annoyed at me. The guards surrounding the command tent wave us through. Inside we find Lisutaris’s full command council: General Hemistos, Bishop-General Ritari and Lord Kalith-ar-Yil: the Samsarinan, Niojan and Elvish leaders of the western forces. Also in attendance are General Morgias, the Simnian commander, and Admiral Arith, commander of the joint naval forces currently tracking our progress along the southern coast. Coranius the Grinder, a powerful Turanian sorcerer, is standing beside Lisutaris. Behind him are several other senior sorcerers whose names I don’t know. I recognise one of them from somewhere, a tall man, Simnian from his insignia, though I can’t place him. It’s an important gathering, one to which I’d not normally be invited. Nor would Arichdamis, mathematician and inventor, but he’s here as well, seated by the table.

Makri takes her place close to Lisutaris. Bishop-General Ritari glowers at her. Niojans are never going to accept her because of her Orcish blood, though the other commanders seem to have become used to her. The elderly Arichdamis looks positively delighted to see her again, remembering her as a fellow mathematician. When we shared his house in Samsarina they spent most of their time talking about his calculations for pi and his new methods for measuring the areas of parabolas. Or something like that, I wasn’t paying close attention. He regards me without enthusiasm, possibly remembering me as a man who demolished his food supplies. Before I have time to wonder what I’m doing here, Lisutaris brings me into the conversation. ‘I’ve asked my Head of Security, Captain Thraxas, here for his opinion because the Captain and I fought the Orcs together seventeen years ago on the walls of Turai.’

That’s quite a big build up. Better than I was expecting.

‘Captain, you have intimate knowledge of Turai, and long experience of Orcish combat. I want your opinion on our current plan.’

I’m gratified. It’s high time our senior officers started listening to the opinions of an experienced warrior like myself. I’ve always said Lisutaris was an excellent choice for War Leader. She gestures towards a map on the table that shows the walls of Turai in some detail. Radiating out from the west wall, a long line zigzags over the plains. I study the map for a few moments.

‘Is that a trench? Are you planning to undermine the walls?’

‘Yes. Arichdamis has provided a practical scheme, precisely calculated, whereby we approach the city via a trench, undermine the walls, and bring down a section large enough for us to enter.’

I can feel my brow creasing in a frown though I don’t want to appear dismissive because I’m pleased that Lisutaris has asked for my opinion. Furthermore, I’m guessing the reason she gave me such a good introduction was because she’s counting on me to support her against the doubts of her military council. Even so, the plan seems outlandish. Quite hopeless. No one has undermined a city’s walls for fifty years...