rogue Sorcerer who hijacked the stuff in the first place. He’s been working with the Society.”
Kerk holds out his hand. I press a coin into it.
“Choirs of Angels,” he mumbles again. He dribbles, slides down the wall and passes out. I must find some informers who are not the scum of the earth. At least I now know why my name became connected with the Cloth. Attilan was after it and I had the misfortune to be arrested for his murder. No wonder people thought I’d robbed him.
I stare with distaste at Kerk’s unconscious figure. I doubt I’m the only person he sells information to. If he’s been spreading what he knows it’s no surprise that various other people might think I have the cloth.
It’s hot. I want to go home and drink beer. However, with the Assassins Guild and the Society of Friends both out to get me, and two Elves waiting to pay me handsomely, I have an incentive to start work. I need to talk to Captain Rallee but it takes a while to find him. He had a cushy desk job at the Abode of Justice up till last year, which he didn’t mind at all, but then he fell out of favour when the wheels of internal Palace politics moved against him. Deputy Consul Rittius replaced him with his own man, and the Captain is therefore once more pounding the streets. Which does at least give me something in common with the good Captain, because Deputy Consul Rittius, the second most important government official in Turai, hates me as well.
I find the Captain staring morosely at a few dead bodies on the outskirts of Kushni.
“What happened?”
“Same as usual,” he grunts in reply. “Brotherhood and Society fighting over territory for the dwa trade. It’s getting out of hand, Thraxas. Half the city’s caught up in it.”
We watch as city employees load corpses into wagons and drive them off. I don’t bother asking the Captain if he’s planning to arrest anyone. The drug barons of the Society of Friends and the Brotherhood have too much protection in this city for the Civil Guard to touch them. As for their lesser minions, there’s so many of them it hardly makes any difference how many he throws in jail.
“Just trying to keep the lid on things till I retire,” sighs the Captain. “And now the elections are about to start. More chaos.”
He shakes his head, and asks me what I want. I explain my situation to him, without mentioning the Elves. He nods.
“We heard a rumour that Nioj was interested in the Cloth. The Elves don’t like selling to them. They get annoyed when the fundamentalist Niojan clerics denounce them as demons from hell. Don’t think the Niojans were involved in the hijacking though. We’ve obtained information as to who was responsible.”
“Yeah, I know, Glixius Dragon Killer,” I say, disappointing the Captain. “I’ve met him already. Any leads on where the stuff is?”
“No,” replies the Captain. “But I reckon it’s long gone. Probably never reached Turai at all.”
I ask him if the Guards are any closer to finding Attilan’s killer.
Captain Rallee sneers. “We reckon you make a pretty good suspect, Thraxas.”
“Come on, you know I didn’t kill him.”
“Maybe. But that might not stop us charging you anyway. If no one better comes along. Rittius would be delighted to see you in a prison galley. And he’s going to have to charge someone. The Niojan Ambassador is raising hell.”
“Don’t you have any real leads?” I ask him.
“You expect a lot, Thraxas. Information from me, but you won’t say what your involvement is. Why should I help you?”
“I once pulled you out from under the wheels of an Orc chariot?”
“That was a long time ago. I’ve done you enough favours since then. You got yourself mixed up in this, and now the Society’s on your tail. Tough. Come clean with us, Thraxas, and I might be able to help you. Otherwise you’re on your own.”
That’s as much as I get from the Captain, though he does tell me that an even more powerful
Kerk holds out his hand. I press a coin into it.
“Choirs of Angels,” he mumbles again. He dribbles, slides down the wall and passes out. I must find some informers who are not the scum of the earth. At least I now know why my name became connected with the Cloth. Attilan was after it and I had the misfortune to be arrested for his murder. No wonder people thought I’d robbed him.
I stare with distaste at Kerk’s unconscious figure. I doubt I’m the only person he sells information to. If he’s been spreading what he knows it’s no surprise that various other people might think I have the cloth.
It’s hot. I want to go home and drink beer. However, with the Assassins Guild and the Society of Friends both out to get me, and two Elves waiting to pay me handsomely, I have an incentive to start work. I need to talk to Captain Rallee but it takes a while to find him. He had a cushy desk job at the Abode of Justice up till last year, which he didn’t mind at all, but then he fell out of favour when the wheels of internal Palace politics moved against him. Deputy Consul Rittius replaced him with his own man, and the Captain is therefore once more pounding the streets. Which does at least give me something in common with the good Captain, because Deputy Consul Rittius, the second most important government official in Turai, hates me as well.
I find the Captain staring morosely at a few dead bodies on the outskirts of Kushni.
“What happened?”
“Same as usual,” he grunts in reply. “Brotherhood and Society fighting over territory for the dwa trade. It’s getting out of hand, Thraxas. Half the city’s caught up in it.”
We watch as city employees load corpses into wagons and drive them off. I don’t bother asking the Captain if he’s planning to arrest anyone. The drug barons of the Society of Friends and the Brotherhood have too much protection in this city for the Civil Guard to touch them. As for their lesser minions, there’s so many of them it hardly makes any difference how many he throws in jail.
“Just trying to keep the lid on things till I retire,” sighs the Captain. “And now the elections are about to start. More chaos.”
He shakes his head, and asks me what I want. I explain my situation to him, without mentioning the Elves. He nods.
“We heard a rumour that Nioj was interested in the Cloth. The Elves don’t like selling to them. They get annoyed when the fundamentalist Niojan clerics denounce them as demons from hell. Don’t think the Niojans were involved in the hijacking though. We’ve obtained information as to who was responsible.”
“Yeah, I know, Glixius Dragon Killer,” I say, disappointing the Captain. “I’ve met him already. Any leads on where the stuff is?”
“No,” replies the Captain. “But I reckon it’s long gone. Probably never reached Turai at all.”
I ask him if the Guards are any closer to finding Attilan’s killer.
Captain Rallee sneers. “We reckon you make a pretty good suspect, Thraxas.”
“Come on, you know I didn’t kill him.”
“Maybe. But that might not stop us charging you anyway. If no one better comes along. Rittius would be delighted to see you in a prison galley. And he’s going to have to charge someone. The Niojan Ambassador is raising hell.”
“Don’t you have any real leads?” I ask him.
“You expect a lot, Thraxas. Information from me, but you won’t say what your involvement is. Why should I help you?”
“I once pulled you out from under the wheels of an Orc chariot?”
“That was a long time ago. I’ve done you enough favours since then. You got yourself mixed up in this, and now the Society’s on your tail. Tough. Come clean with us, Thraxas, and I might be able to help you. Otherwise you’re on your own.”
That’s as much as I get from the Captain, though he does tell me that an even more powerful
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