I talk to Cetenos for a while longer, without discovering anything that seems significant. #101 | | |
"When she met Merlione, was it always outside this building?" #102 | | |
"I'm not sure. I think they used to exchange messages, making their arrangements." #103 | | |
"So someone might have learned when they were due to meet?" #104 | | |
"Yes. But why are you asking about Merlione?" #105 | | |
"Just filling in some details." #106 | | |
Being surrounded by so many dusty books and scrolls is making me thirsty. I rise from my chair. As I leave the building, I'm no less inclined to believe that Alceten may have been murdered. Wills, financial transactions and trading agreements have led to plenty of deaths in the past. It's unfortunate her father couldn't tell me what she was working on. I make a few more enquires downstairs, with several young assistants, but they lead nowhere. None of them know what Alceten might have been working on before she died. Whether they're telling the truth, or have clammed up like Zinlantol, I'm not certain. #107 | | |
Thirsty as I am, I have no money for beer, and that's a bitter thing for a man to admit, particularly a man who's served his country bravely, and worked hard to make his city a better place. Forty-five years old and not enough money for a tankard of ale. At least there's the eating contest to look forward to. I'm heartened by the thought that's it's standard for such events to provide their contestants with a plentiful supply of ale, but my hopes are quickly dashed by the Master of Ceremonies. #108 | | |
"No beer? Are you serious?" #109 | | |
"We supply as much water as required." #110 | | |
"Water? You expect a champion eater to manage with water? What sort of cheap competition is this anyway? There's something far wrong in the nation of Samsarina if you can't give a man beer when he's eating. We'd never have stood for it back in Turai." #111 | | |
"Then maybe you should go back to Turai," says the Master of Ceremonies. #112 | | |
"I would, if you Samsarinans would stop dallying around and get yourself organised. I tell you - " #113 | | |
I'm interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Makri and Lisutaris have arrived. #114 | | |
"What are you doing here?" #115 | | |
"We came to support you," says Makri. #116 | | |
"Just in time to prevent you causing an international incident, it seems," says Lisutaris. "I'd tone down the insults about Samsarina, while we're actually in Samsarina." #117 | | |
"But did you hear that man? No beer! In a pie eating contest! It's ludicrous. I need beer." #118 | | |
"Did you ever consider you might have a problem?" asks Makri. #119 | | |
| | |
"You're addicted to beer." #121 | | |
"Addicted to beer? There's no such thing." #122 | | |
| | |
"Name me one respected doctor who's ever said that drinking too much beer is a problem." #124 | | |
| | |
"Absolute nonsense. A spot of ale is good for a man. You'd be a lot better off if you took a tankard every now and then. Less skinny, for one thing. Probably better tempered too." #126 | | |
"I have a few quarter-gurans," says Lisutaris, fishing awkwardly in her magic purse. "Here, you'd better hurry." #127 | | |
I rush outside for a beer, arriving back just in time to hear the announcement for the start of the contest. The walls of the tent have been rolled up, allowing a large crowd of spectators to look in, and there are shouts of encouragement to various crowd favourites. The Master of Ceremonies rings a bell and a troupe of serving girls appear, each carry a tray brimming with pies. Beef pies, I'm given to understand. Should be reasonable quality, given the amount of farmland there is here. The serving girls begin to distribute the pies. I suddenly feel achingly hungry. I haven't really made up for all that starvation on the boat. #128 | | |
When everyone has a large pie on the table in front of him, there's a brief, expectant silence. Then, at the command, we fall to eating. I demolish half my pie in one or two bites, take a sip of water, finish the pie, and roar for another. The nearest serving girl slams one onto my plate. Again, I finish it very quickly. #129 | | |
"What's going on here?' I cry, looking at my empty place. "Is there a shortage of pies?" #130 | | |
The servant hurries to put another pie in front of me. By now I've settled into a comfortable eating groove. The pies, while not the absolute finest quality, are quite acceptable - tasty beef, crisp pastry, and a reasonable ratio of gravy. I finish a third and a fourth and keep on going. The servants with trays are running around in all directions, and there's an occasional delay of a few seconds before I get my next pie, which I find annoying. There's still a lot of shouting going on but I ignore it, and keep on eating. I have a vague impression of the person next to me moaning in discomfort but I don't let it distract me. #131 | | |
As I'm yelling for another pie a bell rings. I bang my fist on the table and shout louder, to drown it out. "Where's my next pie? What's the delay? You call this a fair contest?" Suddenly I notice Makri standing in front of me. "Did you bring me a pie?" #132 | | |
"No. The contest is over." #133 | | |
| | |
| | |
I notice everyone is looking at me. I feel a tinge of disappointment. "So they're not giving me any more pies?" #136 | | |
The Master of Ceremonies approaches. "Ladies and gentlemen," he cries, lifting up my arm. "We have a winner. "Nine pies completed! Saxarth of Turai!" #137 | | |
There's a lot of cheering. I stand up and take a bow. A few of my fellow competitors are looking unwell. Several are slumped over their tables. The Master of Ceremonies hands me fifty gurans. #138 | | |
"Let's hear it for a mighty eater!" he shouts. To be fair to the Samsarinans, they do give me a decent round of applause. I'm feeling rather pleased with myself as I leave the tent in the company of Makri and Lisutaris. #139 | | |
"You see that? Thraxas, number one chariot at eating pies. No problem whatsoever. I could have eaten more." #140 | | |
"You tried to," says Makri. #141 | | |
"I still have a few corners to fill. As pies go, they weren't that big." #142 | | |
"Your nearest competitor only managed six." #143 | | |
"Lightweights. Well, I hope you both take note of this. While you're flailing around, I get the job done." #144 | | |
"What does that mean?" demands Lisutaris. #145 | | |
"It means that while certain members of our party crumble at the first sign of pressure, ending up half-killing themselves with thazis, and others stumble about like a child with a toy sword, losing their first fight and going home in tears, I, Thraxas of Turai, simply approach a difficult task in a determined manner, and complete the deal. Nine pies eaten, competitors snivelling in the dust, and we've earned fifty gurans. Let this be an inspiration to you." #146 | | |
"You're a fantastic inspiration," says Lisutaris, dryly. "I'll certainly never forget the sight of you wolfing down these pies." #147 | | |
"Greetings, Lisutaris," comes a familiar, unwelcome voice. It's Lasat Axe of Gold, who, along with his sidekick Charius, seems to be haunting the place. "Is it true that your Chief Adviser has just taken first place in a pie eating contest?" #148 | | |
"It is," says Lisutaris, stiffly. #149 | | |
"Really? That will make an amusing story for the King…" #150 | | |
