At the Guard station they fling me into an underground cell which is as hot as Orcish hell and stinks like a sewer. The Guards all know me but there's no one likely to do me any favours apart from young Guardsman Jevox, and he's nowhere to be seen. Civil Guards don't like Investigators. In particular, they don't like me. The Guards are under the control of the Prefects in their area. The last Prefect of Twelve Seas, Galwinius, was a man of such corruption that they should have given me a medal for my part in running him out of town, but the Guards don't appreciate a Private Investigator cutting off their supply of bribes. I haven't met Galwinius's replacement Drinius yet, but I doubt he's any better.
A Sergeant questions me for a while. I tell him I had nothing to do with the murder and I'll give him the full story when my lawyer arrives. He tells me that that will probably be a long time.
"Why did you kill the Senator?" he demands.
I shake my head wearily. If he didn't believe my denial the first ten times, I doubt I'm going to convince him now, so I clam up and wait for someone else to arrive. Everyone in a Guard cell is entitled to a Public Defender, but that doesn't mean you'll actually get one. They don't go out of their way to respect your civil liberties in Twelve Seas. I should have my own lawyer on a retainer, but I can't afford it.
It seems obvious that Carilis has set me up for the murder, but I have no idea why. The door opens and in walks Prefect Drinius, his toga edged in yellow to denote his rank. He's a tall, lean man with aquiline features and close-cropped hair, still dark. He can't be much more than a couple of years older than me. I've an idea he fought in the war, which says something for his character. Many city officials managed to avoid it. He has the well-modulated voice of the aristocrat who learned rhetoric at school.
"Did you kill Senator Mursius?"
"No."
"Explain to me what you were doing there."
I repeat my request for a lawyer. It's never a good idea to give statements to the Guard without one present. And I'd as soon not have to blacken Mursius's reputation by spilling the truth about his wife. Even though Mursius is dead I still feel some obligation to protect my client's good name.
Drinius informs me that I'll get a lawyer when he's ready to provide me with one. "I am aware of your reputation, Thraxas. You take pleasure in interfering in the business of the Civil Guards. I do not intend to let you meddle now that I am in command."
"You ought to be grateful. There wouldn't have been a vacancy if I hadn't exposed Galwinius's corruption."
Drinius almost smiles. "Perhaps. I understand the Consul himself was pleased. But as you are no doubt aware, it did not increase your popularity among the Civil Guards."
"I've never been really popular with the Guards. I try and try but they still don't like me."
Drinius motions for his scribe to come to his side.
"Put it on record that the prisoner refused to make a statement."
The scribe puts it on record. Drinius dismisses him and the Sergeant.
"Thraxas, I am not the sort of man to leap to conclusions. You may have a good explanation for what you were doing in that warehouse, but as things stand just now, it looks bad for you. You were found next to Mursius's body. He had been dead for a very short while. The Guard Sorcerer who checked the office found no trace that anyone else had been there. No one at all. Just you and Mursius. Well?"
"Well, he's wrong."
"I doubt it. Furthermore, our Sorcerer reports that no sorcery was used in the area."
This surprises me. I wasn't expecting the Prefect to try and trick me with such an obvious untruth. The room reeked of sorcery, which would have lingered for a long time after I'd left. Drinius sees my surprise.
"Are you claiming that sorcery had been used? If so, you're lying. No sorcery was found. Our Sorcerer is quite certain on that point. Which just leaves you and Senator Mursius. And he's dead. Is there anything you'd like to say?"
"Yes. How about some food? I haven't eaten today."
Drinius shrugs, and departs.
A Guard locks the cell and insults me through the barred slot in the door. "Things were good when Galwinius was Prefect. Then you stuck your nose in. Now we're going to hang you."
I don't know what to make of Drinius. I'd assumed he was your standard corrupt Prefect but in reality he doesn't seem so unreasonable. But why bother lying that no sorcery had been used in the warehouse? That wouldn't stand up at the trial. A Guard Sorcerer wouldn't perjure himself about something like that. Even weeks after the event a really good Sorcerer working for my defence could prove that magic had been used at the scene. The Guard Sorcerer would look foolish in court and the Sorcerers Guild would be down on him like a bad spell for abusing his skills. Odd.
The door opens. Breakfast arrives. Bread, cheese and water. All fresh. Perhaps Drinius isn't so bad. Prefect Galwinius would have let me starve.
I wonder who did kill the Senator. Strictly speaking I shouldn't have to worry about it. I only work when I'm paid. The Senator hired me to recover his works of art. I recovered them. Then they went missing again. But now he's dead there's no one to pay me to find them again, which kind of ends my involvement. Unless they do accuse me of the murder, and I end up having to clear my name. I sigh. If that happens, I'll end up investigating with no one to pay me. Private Investigator. What a life.
The door opens. Young Guardsman Jevox appears. I helped him in the past, and he owes me a few favours.
"Thraxas," he says urgently. "You're in serious trouble."
"So they keep telling me."
"I can't stay here. But I've sent a message to the Avenging Axe."
He disappears. The day gets hotter and I feel more and more in need of a beer. Sabap, the call for afternoon prayers, rings through the city. I kneel and pray. No sense in giving them something else to get me on. Shortly afterwards the door opens.
"Someone to see you."
Makri walks in. The door closes behind her.
"In the cells again, Thraxas? They ought to put your name on the door."
"Very funny. How did you get in here?"
"I said I was your wife. And they believed me, which doesn't say much for your reputation. Or mine, come to that."
"Well, thanks for coming. I need you to—"
Makri interrupts me. "Let me guess. The case you were working on has now gone drastically wrong. You have annoyed the hell out of the local Prefect and to make matters worse you are now a prime suspect for murder. You need a lawyer, but they won't bring you a Public Defender so you want me to get you one. Correct?"
"In every detail."
"Funny how it always happens that way," says Makri, grinning.
Gurd and Tanrose tell me that Makri has a very attractive smile. I don't really see it myself.
"So, have you seen Gosax?"
Makri sneers.
"Gosax? That cheap crook? He's about as much use as a eunuch in a brothel."
"Maybe, but he's the only lawyer I can afford."
Makri looks serious.
"I saw Kerk."
Kerk is a dwa addict and dealer who, on occasion, passes me information he picks up on his travels.
"He says this time you're really in trouble."
"So everybody tells me. Why does Kerk say that?"
"Because Senator Mursius is a hero of Turai and the Guards really think you killed him. You've been thrown in jail on trumped-up stuff in the past, Thraxas, but this time they think it's for real. Did you kill him?"
"Of course not! Why would I?"
Makri shrugs. "Who knows? Maybe someone paid you. After the Troll Mangler debacle you need a stake for the big race meeting."
"Makri, I liked it better when you'd just arrived in the city and hadn't learned how to make smart comments all the time. I've no idea who killed Mursius but when I was there the place stank of sorcery and now the Guards tell me that their own Sorcerer couldn't detect any traces of magic at all. Which means either they're lying spectacularly, or I'm involved with someone with great sorcerous power. Enough to completely clean up all traces of his actions, which isn't easy."
Makri's hand keeps straying to her hip. She had to check in her sword at the desk and she doesn't feel comfortable without it.
"You should get a good lawyer," she says.
"Makri, is there something behind this?"
"Of course not. I'm just concerned for your welfare. I'll get you a good lawyer. By the way, could you lend me some money?"
Makri has not yet developed the art of subtlety.
"Haven't you already removed it from my room?"
"No," says Makri. "I was going to, but then I realised Samanatius wouldn't approve."
Samanatius is a philosopher who sometimes teaches at the Guild College. He's quite famous. He teaches for free, and gives every appearance of being genuine, unlike some of the charlatans we get round here. Makri likes him. He makes me feel uncomfortable.
"I told Minarixa I'd lent out the money I collected to a woman in distress and I'd have it back in a few days. I promised her sixty gurans."
"I thought you owed them fifty."
"Minarixa seemed so disappointed I pretended I'd collected an extra ten."
Makri pulls a sheet of paper from her tunic. It's a form sheet from Mox's.
"So lend me thirty," she says. "And this time pick something good."
"I only have twenty," I confess.
"What about your emergency reserve?"
"I'm talking about my emergency reserve." Sensing that Makri is on the point of lecturing me about drinking my money away, I explain to her about the hefty bribe I had to pay out down at the docks. "To make things worse, my boots fell apart in the rain. You know how much it costs to get a new pair of boots? Anyway, I can only lend you ten. And I'm not forgetting the forty you already owe me."
Makri nods. She runs her fingers through her wet, tousled hair.
"Do you know any good lawyers?"
"None that will do me any favours," I admit.
"How about Cicerius?"
"He's the Deputy Consul."
"But isn't he a lawyer as well? I'm sure I read some courtroom speeches he made in my law class."
I explain that while Cicerius is a fine lawyer, he isn't the sort of man you can drag down to Twelve Seas to get you out of the slammer.
"He only works on cases of national importance."
"Well, I'll see what I can do," she says.
I study the form sheet for the day's races at Juval. The best bet I can see is Orc Crusher, a good chariot who's won for me in the past. Unfortunately he's a strong favourite and the odds are five to four on. When I explain to Makri that this means if she bets five gurans she'll win only four she's a little disappointed. I tell her there's nothing else really worth gambling on, particularly as we're not in a position to take chances.
"I hope you're right about this one, Thraxas. I'll bet my ten gurans. If I win eight it'll be a start."
I tell her to put the same bet on for me. Makri bangs on the door, summoning the Guard. He lets her out.
"So what's it like being married to a half Orc?" he asks me when she's gone.
"She's only a quarter," I reply.
"I reckon you'd be better off being hanged," he says, and slams the door.
I wait in the cell for hours. No one comes to see me. I feel so starved of company I'd be glad if they interrogated me again, but all that happens is a stony-faced guard brings me more bread, cheese and water. Maybe they're trying to bore me into a confession.
Finally Drinius returns. There's a strange, troubled expression on his aristocratic face. He gazes at me for a few seconds before speaking.
"Your lawyer is here."
"Good."
"I was unaware that you were represented by Deputy Consul Cicerius."
So was I. I can't believe that Makri has managed to bring him here. No wonder Drinius looks troubled. If you're starting out on your political career in Turai you don't want to be caught maltreating a prisoner by the Deputy Consul. Cicerius has little in the way of human warmth, but he's a stickler for the law.
The Prefect departs and Cicerius enters, wearing the green-edged toga that denotes his rank. I notice his sandals are quite dry despite the rain outside. Of course an important man like Cicerius would be ferried here in a wagon and escorted to the door by a servant with a parasol. They might even have laid out a special carpet to protect him from the mud.
"I understand you need a lawyer," he says, somewhat dryly.
Deputy Consul Cicerius is by far the best orator in the city and has won numerous sensational cases for the defence in the law courts. He's not a crowd-pleaser but he is respected by all for his irreproachable honesty. Although he is a bastion of the Traditional Party and a strong supporter of the Royal Family, he has not hesitated to defend opponents of the King in court if they happen to be innocent. But while everyone trusts Cicerius, he is not exactly well liked. His character is too austere, and he exudes too little warmth to be genuinely loved by the masses. And he is not well born enough to be totally accepted by the aristocracy. He's aware of his brilliance, and his vanity shows. He's a self-made man, respected by all. I wonder if it bothers him that no one much likes him. Possibly.
I thank him for coming, telling him I'm glad I was able to help such an esteemed character as himself with his recent difficulties. He informs me sharply that he did not come out of any sense of obligation.
"You were adequately paid for your services. You should not expect any favours from me, Thraxas. If you do, you will be disappointed."
I'm disappointed already.
"Then why are you here?"
He tells me he is repaying Makri for a service. I blink. Service from Makri?
"My official wagon became trapped in the mud as we progressed along Royal Way. Some hooligans from the Populares seized the occasion to toss mud and rocks at me. I was in a most uncomfortable position. Your friend Makri fortunately appeared on the scene. She dealt with my tormentors in a most convincing manner."
This sort of political violence is common in Turai. When it comes round to election times it's swords instead of rocks.
"As a result of which I agreed to her request to help you. In truth, I was not unhappy to do so, because you have featured in my thoughts recently. I believe you may be able to be of service to me. However, that can wait. Firstly, I must get you released from this cell. Tell me the circumstances surrounding your arrest."
I tell him the full story, omitting nothing.
"In that case they have nothing to hold you on. The case against you is entirely circumstantial. I will arrange your release immediately."
He leaves the cell. He arranges my release immediately. I am instructed to stay in the city. We leave the Guard station.
"Thank you, Cicerius. What now?"
"Now we have an appointment with Makri at the Avenging Axe. Come."
He leads me to his official wagon, which takes us slowly through the sodden streets of Twelve Seas.
"She is an interesting woman," says the Deputy Consul, suddenly.
"Who?"
"Makri. Is that her only name?"
"As far as I know."
"I had planned to introduce a bill banishing all people with Orc blood from the city. They only cause trouble and are rarely loyal citizens. But I may delay it for a while."
Somehow this doesn't surprise me. Makri has this odd attribute of making herself popular with the most unlikely people. I used to put it down merely to the sight of her bursting out of her chainmail bikini, but it seems to go further than that. Cicerius has no known track record of being impressed by any young woman's shape, but already he seems to have taken to her.
We pull up at the Avenging Axe. Vendors still grimly try to sell their cheap wares and the prostitutes still ply their trade with any soul brave enough to face the weather. The beggars, having nowhere else to go, still sit in useless misery in the mud, homeless, hopeless, deformed, a sight to raise pity in anyone's breast, anyone apart from the entire population of Twelve Seas, who see it every day.
To my annoyance Kerk chooses this moment to waylay me. Kerk deals dwa but he uses far too much of his own product. He's around thirty, gaunt, with large eyes, possibly displaying a faint trace of Elvish blood, no doubt the result of some distant union of an Elvish visitor and a Twelve Seas whore. Even Elves have to enjoy themselves sometime, I suppose, when they're not sitting in trees singing about stars and rainbows.
Cicerius looks on with disapproval as the bedraggled Kerk plants himself in front of me. I tell him I can't talk now but if he comes across any of Mursius's missing works of art I'll be interested to hear about it. I give him a small coin, which he glances at with disgust before tramping off through the mud and rain.
Makri is waiting for us inside. She looks pleased with herself.
"Thanks for the lawyer. Did you put on the bet?"
She nods. I make a fast trip to the bar. Deputy Consul or not, I haven't eaten properly all day. Bread and cheese are nowhere near enough to satisfy the healthy appetite of a man my size. And I haven't had a beer for more hours than I care to think about. I order a fair selection from Tanrose's dinner menu and a "Happy Guildsman" jumbo-sized tankard of ale, and then proceed to get them inside me as quickly as I can.
Cicerius is more accustomed to the Senate and the law courts than Twelve Seas and is uncomfortable in the public bar. Everyone is staring at him, wondering what an important man like him is doing here. He insists that we retreat to my office immediately. I nod, but stop off on the way for another "Happy Guildsman." You can't expect me to function properly if you starve me of beer. It just can't be done.