"Keep a look out for alligators," I pant to Makri. #51 | | |
"I will," she replies, and even she seems slightly worried by the prospect. We make good time. The level of sewage is low due to the long spell of hot weather. Water in Turai's aqueducts has already started to run short. Hanama suddenly comes to a halt. #52 | | |
"We're close to the exit." #53 | | |
With that she abruptly douses her lamp. Before I realise what she's up to she grabs the Cloth and tries to yank it from me. I hold on grimly and in consequence we both fall over and start rolling around in the filth, struggling for the Cloth. I'd say she was a more skilful close-combat fighter, but I have a weight advantage. #54 | | |
"Let go!" hisses Hanama. We struggle some more, till my senses again pick up an ominous warning. #55 | | |
"Glixius," I yell. "Magic coming." #56 | | |
"What's that noise?" calls Makri, as a huge roaring starts reverberating through the tunnels. #57 | | |
"It sounds like a flood." #58 | | |
"It can't be, it's summer." #59 | | |
Suddenly and terrifyingly a huge wave of water surges through the tunnel, carrying us off with it. I'm buffeted and dragged along, unable to breath as the flood water carries us before it like rats. My last conscious thought is to curse Glixius Dragon Killer for unleashing such a thing. The man is completely heartless. I didn't even know there was a flood water spell. Eventually I pass out, with visions of my past life flickering before my eyes. #60 | | |
I drift back to consciousness somewhere on the sea shore, beached like a whale. I cough and retch about ten gallons of water out of my lungs and rise unsteadily to my knees. It's very dark and I can just make out the figure of Makri lying close by. As I struggle towards her she opens her eyes and turns on her side to spew out the water she's swallowed. #61 | | |
| | |
"Just about," mutters Makri, clambering to her feet. She's relieved to find she still has both her swords. She brought them with her from the Orcish gladiator pits, and they're fine weapons. Orcs might be hated the world over, but they make a fine blade. Then I notice something wrapped around my fingers. A strip of Red Cloth, ripped from the main roll. I stare at it glumly. I doubt if anyone will pay me a reward of six hundred gurans for this miserable fragment. I curse, and stuff it in my pocket. Hanama must have kept hold of the rest. As usual, she has now disappeared. With the Cloth. I curse. #63 | | |
"I can't shake that damned woman off. She's sharp as an Elf's ear at this investigating business. How the hell did she know to come to the church?" #64 | | |
I haul myself up the rocky beach. I come to a halt, surprised. Lying prostrate beside a pool is the small figure of Hanama. As we approach she rolls over and groans. Makri hurries and kneels down beside her. #65 | | |
"Someone's slugged her." #66 | | |
The Assassin has a nasty wound on the back of her head. She comes round at the sound of our voices. Makri cradles her head and drips a little water from her flask into her mouth. #67 | | |
"Thanks, Makri," says the Assassin. She struggles to her feet. #68 | | |
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"Someone hit me from behind. I was still spewing up water from the flood—" #70 | | |
"So where's the Cloth?" I demand. #71 | | |
Hanama stares coolly at me, and turns on her heel. She makes her way up the beach, unsteadily. I stare after her, but don't bother pursuing her. She wouldn't answer questions from me if her life depended on it. #72 | | |
Two of the three moons are visible in the sky. Light from them glimmers on a rock about the size of my fist. I reach down and find it is sticky with still damp blood. Whoever hit the Assassin didn't bother with anything fancy. I slip the rock into my pocket. #73 | | |
Makri and I reach the patch of waste ground that leads into the warehouses beside the harbour. #74 | | |
Steam rises from my clothes in the heat of the night. At least the flood water washed off the sewage. We walk past a warehouse and turn the corner and there, right in front of us, is Glixius Dragon Killer. He looks bedraggled, as if he might have been caught up in his own flood. #75 | | |
"You—" he begins, and starts to raise his voice for a spell. #76 | | |
Nothing happens. His spells have run out. I smile. #77 | | |
"Too bad, Glixius," I say, and punch him in the face as hard as I can It's a good punch. There's a lot of feeling behind it, and a lot of weight. He goes down in a heap and stays there. #78 | | |
"Nice punch," says Makri, admiringly. #79 | | |
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After all this magic, there's something very pleasing about a good punch. #81 | | |
We walk on. Part one of tonight's mission is a failure. Let's hope the next part goes better. We have an appointment with Sarin the Merciless but we don't get far. Before we reach Quintessence Street three landuses hurtle up and screech to a halt beside us. Pontifexes, twelve of them, leap out and surround us. #82 | | |
At least, they're wearing priestly garments, but as they're carrying swords and look like they know how to use them, I guess they belong to a fairly specialised division of the Church. #83 | | |
"Bishop Gzekius would like to see you." #84 | | |
Makri's hands go to her swords. I shake my head. #85 | | |
"Fine. I'll be delighted to see the Bishop." #86 | | |
We climb in and the landuses take us off through the still dark streets of the city. #87 | | |
The Head of the Church in Turai is Archbishop Xerius, who has four equally ranked Bishops under him. Gzekius's parish includes Twelve Seas but he doesn't live there of course. He lives in a very large villa up in Thamlin, where he gets his relief from ministering to the poor by sitting by his swimming pool eating delicacies from his own private fish ponds. #88 | | |
Gzekius is a large, powerful man, around fifty with thick grey hair. Ambitious too, though he conceals it fairly well under his normally placid exterior. I say normally, because when we are led in he looks far from peaceful. In fact he's close to exploding and wastes no time in threatening me with arrest, excommunication and a lengthy visit to the prison galleys. #89 | | |
I regard him coolly while he thunders on about the desecration of churches and the general disgraceful state of the citizenry in Turai, particularly me. "It's all very well threatening me, Bishop," I say, when I can get a word in. "But I wouldn't say you're in too strong a position yourself. I doubt that the King will be very amused to hear that you stole the Cloth in the first place. Illegal for anyone but the King to have it, remember. And of course there's also the matter of Attilan. Your man stole the spell from the garden. Had he murdered the diplomat before I got there?" #90 | | |
"How dare you accuse the True Church of murder!" fumes the Bishop. #91 | | |
"Not forgetting stealing a spell, and putting the King's dragon to sleep then hacking it to death. I'd say you might be joining me on the prison ship." #92 | | |
I'd hoped to shake the Bishop with this. He doesn't look shaken, but he does calm down a little. #93 | | |
"Neither myself nor the Church had any involvement in the theft of the Cloth." He claims that he has no idea how the Cloth came to be in Derlex's church. "Do you seriously expect anyone to believe that one Pontifex stole a dragon sleep spell from a Niojan diplomat while another helped cut the cloth out of the dragon?" #94 | | |
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"They won't. Not when the accusation comes from a man like you, Thraxas," he says dismissively. #96 | | |
"I might not be able to persuade the King or the Consul, Bishop Gzekius, though I'll have a good try. But I'll sure as hell persuade Praetor Cicerius. And remember, it wasn't just me that saw you and Derlex with the Elvish Cloth. So did an Assassin, the Brotherhood and the Society of Friends. And the Orcish Ambassadors must know you had it as well, because they sent their Orcs to recover it. That's a whole host of witnesses. None of them good witnesses I grant you, but more than enough to persuade the population that you've been up to something. A very juicy story for the Chronicle. Very poor publicity for the Church, Bishop, particularly at a time when Senator Lodius is on the rampage. He doesn't like you at all. What was it he called you last week? 'Bloodsucking parasites on the poor,' I believe." #97 | | |
We face each other in silence for a while. I help myself to a little wine. Makri stands mutely in a corner, uncomfortable in these surroundings. #98 | | |
"I don't know why you wanted the Cloth. Maybe you just needed some cash. But I think you might have been looking to make a magic-proof room for yourself. You're an ambitious man, Bishop Gzekius. #99 | | |
The Archbishopric comes up for grabs soon. You are not favourite for the job, but everyone knows you want it. So it's going to take some serious plotting on your part to land it. The other Bishops in Turai wouldn't like it at all if you had a magic-proof room. Far too much of an advantage in plotting. So they'll believe my story anyway." #100 | | |
