Thraxas and the Ice Dragon Read Free Page B

in.
    "Thraxas. Stop talking, stop complaining, stop drinking, and get your obscenely fat carcass out of that bed. We're sailing up-river to Elath with the Baron and Kublinos to see the King. The barge leaves in ten minutes but if you'd rather stay here and roll around drunk in a tavern, no one will miss you."
    Makri storms out. I get out of bed with a struggle, cross to the small sink in the adjoining room, and splash water over myself. No one is leaving me behind. I've been in Elath before. It's a small town not far from the capital, known for its hot mineral baths. It's also the place where they hold the sword-fighting contest. I have to rush to get ready before the barge leaves, but an old campaigner like myself is used to moving in a hurry. No more than ten minutes after Makri's appearance, I'm rolling up to the quay with a small keg of beer under one arm and a bag of bread and pastries under the other.
    "Thraxas," says Lisutaris, glancing at me frostily as I stroll on board. "You made it."
    Lisutaris has made a swift return to her former elegance. I wouldn't say she was ever classed among Turai's greatest beauties, but she's a very attractive woman, always well presented; expensive robes, nicely coiffured hair and so on. Makri has also tidied herself up, though in her case that just means wearing an even more unsuitable man's tunic, brushing her ludicrously huge mane of hair in approximately the same direction, and cleaning her weapons. She now stands on deck with a sword at each hip and an axe at her belt, looking like the savage she is. Her appearance, reckoned as strange even in cosmopolitan Turai, is even more outlandish here among the solid citizens of Samsarina. In Turai, which borders on the wastelands, it's not unknown for a few people with Orcish blood to appear every now and then, but in Samsarina, I'd guess it's virtually unheard of. Crewmen eye her warily, probably wondering if she's the advance guard for the Orcish invasion. I offer her some breakfast out of the bag I'm carrying but she refuses, either because she's still annoyed with me or because she never eats that much anyway. Makri never complained of hunger when we were castaway. It's another odd trait.
    Also on-board is the Sorcerer Kublinos. I greet him genially. He doesn't respond. Obviously he hasn't been impressed by his first experience of Thraxas, private investigator and warrior. I brush it off. He'll soon come to appreciate my finer points, as I say to Makri in the cabin below decks.
    "You don't have any finer points," replies Makri.
    "What's got into you? All right, I got drunk. So what? It's not the end of the world."
    Makri's face softens a little. "I suppose not. Though it was crass, even by your standards. I'm on edge anyway. Everyone here keeps staring at me like I'm a freak. And I don't like the way Baron Mabados spoke to Lisutaris. I'm getting the impression the Samsarinans don't think she did enough to keep the Orcs out of Turai. It's ridiculous. Lisutaris was sick when the attack came. Anyway, if it hadn't been for her warnings, the city would have fallen sooner."
    That's true enough; Lisutaris was the only one to correctly foresee the Orcish attack. Without her warnings, the city would have fallen earlier. But it looks bad for her that when Turai did eventually fall, it was because Deeziz the Unseen, most powerful of the Orcish Sorcerers, managed to sneak into the city undetected. Her sorcery outwitted everyone, including Lisutaris.
    "Have you been to Elath?" asks Makri.
    "Yes. It's just a small town in the foothills. No one would go there if it wasn't for the hot baths. Have you thought about entering the sword-fighting tournament?"
    Makri shakes her head. "Tournaments are foolish."
    Makri was involved in a tournament in the Elvish Isles. She trained a young Elf, very effectively, but had little patience for a fighting competition in which only practice weapons were used.
    "This tournament isn't like the junior Elves' tournament," I