good match for Demelzos's son, according to everyone.
"I say!" says General Hemistos, loudly. All eyes follow his in the direction of the Queen's Bathing house. The marble steps leading down to the road are busy with women going in and out. All of them wealthy, and all of them perfectly attired. As is Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, who walks down the steps with her normal straight-backed elegance, robe and rainbow cloak perfectly arranged, not a hair out of place. Beside her is Makri who has not bothered to get fully dressed before leaving the building, and strolls down the stairs still pulling her tunic over her head. With a lot of flesh on display, two swords at her hip and a her still-wet hair flopping all over the place, she makes for an unusual sight.
"Good Lord!" says the elderly Baron Vosanos. "Who is that?"
"Makri,' says the Simnian Ambassador, who joined the party a little while ago. "Lisutaris's bodyguard. She's fighting in the tournament."
"Splendid figure," barks the Baron. "Haven't seen anything like that since I was out in the East."
Lisutaris seems gratified to find a large collection of Barons outside the Bathing House. She greets them politely, exchanging pleasantries.
"I think they're starting to take to me," she says, as we head towards the tournament fields.
"Where's your amour and shield?" I ask Makri.
"Right here," says Lisutaris, dangling a tiny yellow purse by it's drawstring.
"A magic pocket? Where did you get that?" Magic pockets are valuable items. You can carry around any amount of heavy items safely inside, all apparently weightless and without volume, until you take them out again.
"Kublinos lent it to me. He's lending me a carriage as well."
The qualifying round starts later this afternoon, but until the draw is made, we won't know exactly when Makri is fighting. Reaching the tournament fields with time to spare, we take a stroll through the busy tents and stalls.
"Look at that sign - Pie eating contest. Prize - fifty gurans." I come to a swift halt. "I could win that. Easy as bribing a senator."
"You'd be a clear favourite," agrees Makri. "Are you going to enter?"
"No, he's not," says Lisutaris.
"Why am I not?"
"How is it going to reflect on the status of the Head of the Sorcerers Guild if her Chief Adviser is found wallowing around in a pie eating contest?"
I admit she has a point, though it galls me to pass up the opportunity.
"Maybe he could enter under a false name?" suggests Makri. "Saxarth perhaps?"
Lisutaris dismisses this. "That wouldn't fool anyone."
"We could do with the fifty gurans," I point out. "We have no funds left."
"But you've bet on me, haven't you?" says Makri. "So that's guaranteed winnings."
I hope so. I still don't like Makri's over-confidence. We press on through the crowd, heading for the large marquee where the draw will be made. It takes a while to force our way through. Even Lisutaris's rainbow cloak, easily recognisable, isn't enough to make the crowd part without a struggle. I'm obliged to use my bodyweight to clear the local peasantry out the way.
"You'd think they would pay more respect to the Head of the Sorcerers Guild," I say, as I clear a path. "Not to mention me. I'm a past-champion. These stalls should be selling figurines of me."
"Maybe there should be a large statue," says Makri.
"I don't see why not. There's not been many warriors like Saxarth the Invincible, I can tell you."
Makri laughs. "Never mind. At least Demelzos remembers you fondly."
This brings Lisutaris to an abrupt halt. "Baroness Demelzos? What does she remember fondly?"
"Thraxas."
"Why?"
"They had a passionate affair, a long time ago."
The Sorceress gapes. "Thraxas had an affair with Baroness Demelzos? Is this true?"
"She wasn't Baroness Demelzos then," I say. "She was Demmy the barmaid."
"I can't believe it," says Lisutaris. "Thraxas and Demelzos? The mind reels."
I'm not feeling very pleased by any of this. For one thing, Makri shouldn't have blabbed about it, and for another, Lisutaris doesn't have to react as if it's the strangest occurrence in the history of the world.
"Why were you so rude to her in Orosis?" asks Lisutaris.
"I didn't recognise her. It was more than twenty years since I'd seen her. And I'd had one or two beers."
"It must have been a shock for the Baroness," says Makri. "Seeing her past return to haunt her in the shape of Thraxas. No woman could be prepared for that."
"You should have told me this earlier!" cries Lisutaris. "Have you had affairs with any other members of the Samsarinan aristocracy?"
"Is