Thraxas and the Ice Dragon - By Martin Scott Page 0,27

here, in Arichdamis's residence."

"But it's meant to be at Lasat's. He won't be pleased at this."

I draw myself up. "Lisutaris is Head of the Sorcerers Guild. She outranks Lasat. In fact, she outranks everyone. So if Lisutaris wants to hold the meeting here, that's where it will be held. Kindly tell Lasat that Lisutaris regrets the mix up in communications, but looks forward to everyone assembling here at their earliest convenience. And pass on the best regards of Thraxas, Chief Adviser to the Head of the Sorcerers Guild."

The messengers don't like it. Still, it's not their job to argue. They mount up, and ride off. Beside me, Makri is impressed. "You really pulled that off well."

"Thank you."

"Although it does strike me that in around fifteen minutes, a collection of angry Barons and Sorcerers are going to discover that Lisutaris is completely intoxicated by thazis, in a country where thazis is illegal."

"So we've got fifteen minutes to get Lisutaris into a fit state."

We hurry back to the garden where Arichdamis and his servant - both quite elderly, and neither of them strong - are still gamely walking Lisutaris around the garden. So far, it doesn't seem to be helping.

"It was very unwise of Lisutaris to boost the power of her thazis," says Arichdamis, who seems shocked by the occurrence. "Is the Mistress of the Sky prone to this sort of excess?"

"Very rarely," I reply, and send the other servant off to make deat, a herbal brew with some powers of sobering up the intoxicated. Makri and I take over walking Lisutaris around while Arichdamis slumps into a garden chair to rest.

"You might want to tell your servants that Barons, Sorcerers and probably some foreign ambassadors will be arriving soon."

Arichdamis leaps to his feet. "What? I'm not ready to receive Barons. We have no food prepared, or drink, or - "

"Tell them there's a war on. Everyone has to rough it a little. Damn you Lisutaris, will you stop grinning stupidly and open your eyes?"

As soon as Arichdamis disappears inside I fetch Lisutaris a fairly hefty slap on the face. Her eyelids flicker. So desperate is the situation that Makri doesn't object. Lisutaris opens her eyes.

"Thraxas, if you slap me again I'll make your head explode."

We sit Lisutaris down on the garden chair and start pouring deat inside her. The Sorceress shakes her head.

"Spell must have been too powerful. But Arichdamis's thazis is inferior. I was just trying to boost it a little." She yawns. "I'd better lie down for a while."

"You can't lie down!" exclaims Makri. "Have you forgotten the meeting?'

"Meeting?"

Makri brings Lisutaris up to date with recent developments. Lisutaris's eyes open wide.

"I don't want to meet Barons. I'm not ready."

Horses hooves and carriage wheels sound in the street outside. Lisutaris casts a baleful glance in my direction, then rises to her feet. Her legs give way and she slumps back into her chair.

"I can't walk," she says, rather feebly.

"Arichdamis," I say. "Tell the Barons that Lisutaris will receive them in the back garden."

At this moment the junior dragon, until now absent from the proceedings, decides to put in an appearance. It wanders out from a clump of bushes and makes straight for Makri.

"Go away you vile beast," says Makri.

The dragon starts rubbing itself against Makri's legs. Makri tries to shove it away, which only makes it more enthusiastic. It rises on its hind legs and tries to lick her face. Makri winces as it digs its claws into her shoulder. She bats it back to the ground, quite violently. The dragon, thinking this is a splendid game, purrs in pleasure and starts climbing up her again.

"I'm getting fed up with this," says Makri.

Baron Mabados, Baron Marcos, and Lasat Axe of Gold come storming into the garden.

"What is the meaning of this change of location?" demands Lasat. "It shows an outrageous lack of respect for the council."

Elupus, his bodyguard, is next into the garden. Several more Samsarinan Barons follow, along with their entourages. After them come a group of Sorcerers, including Kublinos, and various men in military uniform, Generals from the Samsarinan army. Finally Daringos, the King's Chief Steward, resplendent in his crimson robe, strides in with his nose in the air. There's some confusion, with questions being asked from all sides. The loudest voice comes from a Baron I haven't met before, an extremely large man, at least in girth, who demands to know where the refreshments are.

"Don't tell me we've been invited to a house where's there's nothing to