Thraxas and the Ice Dragon - By Martin Scott Page 0,74

your heart?"

"You're not going to do that, Turanian dog. Not while you're working for Lisutaris. You can't get her into trouble, can you?"

He has a point. I wasn't expecting him to be so well-informed.

"I might not do it," I tell him. "But she certainly will."

On cue, Makri appears from behind the tree. Her long, thick hair is dishevelled, matted over her face and shoulders, and she has a crazed look in her eyes. She draws her black Orcish sword. It's a dark, ugly weapon. Rather than reflecting light, it seems to suck it in. With one swift movement she grabs the man's hair and places the edge of her sword at his throat. "This sword was forged by demons in an Orcish furnace beneath the cursed mountain of Zarax," she snarls. "It'll drink your soul and send you down to Orcish hell. The legion of the Orcish-damned will torture you forever."

Makri uses her other hand to sweep her hair back. "You see these ears? They grow sharper with each human soul I drink! Die, Human, and meet the Orcish Dead!"

Makri raise her sword. The man cries out in fear. "Don't let her kill me! Magranos sent me after you!"

"Who's Magranos?"

"Chief Steward to Baron Vosanos."

"Why did he send you?"

"I don't know? He just wanted you dead! Get me away from this demon!"

I nod to Makri. She sheathes her sword. The man takes off at a run and disappears without looking back.

"Good job scaring him," I tell Makri. "Messing up your hair was a nice touch."

"It's so humiliating," she says. "I don't even believe in Orcish Hell." We walk on. "So what did you learn?"

"I'm not sure. Magranos, Chief Steward to Baron Vosanos? Why would the Baron want me out the way?"

"His daughter is marrying Demelzos's son, isn't he?"

"He is. And it sounds like he doesn't like me poking around." I notice Makri hasn't sheathed her sword, which is unusual. She normally keeps it covered. The mere sight of the foul Orcish blade can cause anger and revulsion in the West. "Why are you looking at your sword?"

"I'm wondering about its powers. It can't really send anyone to Orcish Hell, but it is strong. It was forged under Mount Zarax. The Orcs say blades from that furnace can cut through anything, even objects protected by sorcery." Makri unsheathes her second sword, a bright silver blade from the Elvish Isles. "Don't Elvish swords have some powers over sorcery too?"

"Where is this conversation going?"

"Nowhere," says Makri, sheathing her swords. "I was just wondering."

I look at her suspiciously. "Are you planning on destroying something sorcerous?"

"No."

"Well make sure you don't. We're already in enough trouble."

Makri sheathes her swords. The Elvish blade was a gift from the Elves on Avula, and as for the Orcish sword, she either won it as a gladiator, or looted it when she slaughtered everyone while making her escape from the East. I'm not sure which. She'll have another fine blade if she wins the tournament, as part of her prize.

Arichdamis's house is empty. All the servants have gone to the festival. I round up some food from the cellars. It's now early evening.

"Look," says Makri. "I found you a beer in the kitchen."

I accept it gratefully.

"You should sleep," she says.

"I don't think we have time. Lisutaris is meeting the King. We should be there. And we've still got to visit Big Bixo before the final."

"There's enough time," says Makri. "I'll wake you."

I look at Makri, then shrug, and lie down on the couch where I doze peacefully for a while. When Makri shakes me awake it's dark outside. I yawn, stretch, and buckle on my sword before we make the return journey. Though Elath is now dark, there's a glow coming from the tournament fields in the distance, from torches and bonfires. Makri asks me if I've had any more thoughts on the case I'm working on.

"Some. I think I know what's been going on. I'll need to visit the King's Record House again."

"I'll come with you tomorrow," says Makri.

"If you win the tournament you'll still be celebrating."

"I won't be."

"You should celebrate."

We walk on, past the tree where Makri frightened my assailant. "I know you freed the dragon," I say.

"What?"

"I know you freed the dragon."

"No I didn't! And how could you possibly know anyway?"

"When you bring me beer and encourage me to sleep, I'd say it's a good sign you want me out the way for a while. And when you're wondering if your swords can cut through sorcery?? I halt,