Thraxas and the Ice Dragon - By Martin Scott Page 0,68

say is true." The Baroness sips her wine, elegantly, like Lisutaris. "Why does this matter?"

"I don't know."

"None of it seems to affect my daughter."

"Can she interfere with the wedding gift?"

"Of course not. My husband owns all our property, under the law. He can transfer our mines to whoever he chooses. Orgodas will inherit it all eventually, anyway."

"Does it bother you that you brought all the money into the family and now your husband controls it?"

"That's the law in Samsarina," says the Baroness.

"I know. But does it bother you?"

"I'd rather not say,' replies the Baroness.

"Dos it bother Merlione that Orgodas will inherit everything?"

"She'll be provided for. We won't just abandon our daughter. I can't see that she'd mind that Orgodas will inherit. That's what always happens. I'm not enjoying answering these questions."

"Most of my clients feel that way at some point."

"You know that several Barons have complained to my husband about you questioning their servants?"

"Barons can complain all they like. You hired me to help Merlione. That's what I'm doing."

"My husband insists you abandon the investigation."

"And?"

"I insist that you don't."

I sip my wine. I like Demelzos. I wish I had some better ideas for helping.

"How are you going to make things up to Makri?" she asks, unexpectedly.

"What?"

"I understand she's insulted you weren't there to lead her into the arena."

I stare at Demelzos, surprised. "How could you possibly know that?"

"My kitchen maid is walking out with General Hemistos's stable boy. She brings home a lot of gossip."

I shouldn't be surprised. Servants usually know everything. "I thought I'd buy her flowers."

"Flowers?" Demelzos raised her eyebrows slightly. "That doesn't seem like enough."

"Makri is very susceptible to flowers. She grew up in a gladiator slave pit and never got any presents. A bunch of flowers can have a powerful effect."

The Baroness nods. "I can understand that. I take it you've done this before?"

"Several times."

"This time you might need something better. Here - " The Baroness takes a small object from a drawer and slides it over the table. It's a notebook, I suppose, though calling it that doesn't really do it justice. The pages are made from the highest-grade vellum and it's bound in black leather, with a small queenstone jewel set in the centre, and a silver clasp to hold it shut. I doubt if even Lisutaris has anything quite this fancy to write in.

"You said she likes to study. Does she have anything nice for taking notes?"

"No one has anything this nice for taking notes."

"Give it to her," says the Baroness. "She'll forgive your offensive behaviour."

I look at her suspiciously. "Why would you care about that?"

"I don't like to see things go badly between you and your young lady."

"Makri is not my young lady."

The Baroness laughs. "Really? Then why have you been buying her flowers?"

"Unfortunate circumstances which are difficult to describe."

"How many women have you ever bought flowers for?"

"None. But you've got entirely the wrong impression."

The Baroness looks amused. It's annoying. I thank her for the book, and tell her I'd like to talk to Merlione before I leave.

"She should be in her rooms. I'll have a servant take you. It would be best if you were quick. My husband will probably be home soon. Do I owe you any more money? The retainer only covered a few days."

"It doesn't matter. You lent me more money for gambling."

"How's that going?"

"Well."

I follow Demelzos's servant though the long, white-plastered walls of her summer mansion, wondering what's got into me that I'm refusing money from a client. I glance at the book I'm carrying. Makri will probably try and break it over my head.

Here in her her own rooms, safe from stray arrows and death threats, Merlione is again the confident young woman I first encountered. There's no hint of discomfort in her eyes as she greets me. I suddenly find that irritating. Everyone else is discomfited, why shouldn't she be?

"What aren't you telling me?" I ask her.

"Pardon?"

"There's something about this affair you're not telling me. I want to know what it is."

"Why would I be withholding anything?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"It sounds like you think I'm lying," says Merlione.

"You could put it that way if you want. So what are you lying about?"

Merlione's dark eyes flash with anger. "This is ridiculous," she says. "What sort of investigator are you? I'm the one who's being threatened."

"I think you have an idea why."

"No I don't."

"I've been down all the usual channels, Merlione. Lovers, rivals, finances, family feuds, blackmail. No one's telling me anything. People