I grab a beer and a small bottle of klee and head back to the main hall, where I look around to see if there are any faces I recognise. I’m due to meet Cicerius but I want to get my bearings first and maybe see if I can learn anything useful. The main room of the Royal Hall is vast. Frescoes decorate the walls and ceilings, and a huge and intricate mosaic depicting the triumphs of Saint Quatinius covers the floor. In every corner there are statues of past heroes of Turai. The stained-glass windows are noted for their beauty and contain some of the finest surviving work of Usax, Turai’s greatest artist. Fine though the stained glass is, it doesn’t let in a great amount of light, and torches are lit at regular intervals along the walls.
The great room is full of Sorcerers of every description. Each is wearing his or her best cloak, which makes for an impressive collection of rainbows. In the middle of the floor a group of Turanians are holding court, welcoming old friends and allies. Old Hasius the Brilliant, Chief Investigating Sorcerer at the Abode of Justice, stands beside Harmon Half Elf and Melus the Fair. Next to them Gorsius Starfinder is guzzling wine and Tirini Snake Smiter—our most glamorous Sorcerer, and without a doubt the only one to wear a rainbow cloak made of transparent muslin—is showing off her smile to some younger admirers.
All Turai’s most powerful Sorcerers, standing in a group like they haven’t a care in the world. I immediately feel irritated. Close to them are some of our younger adepts: Lanius Suncatcher, the new Chief Sorcerer at Palace Security, along with Capali Comet Rider and Orius Fire Tamer. They irritate me as well. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, doesn’t seem to be here yet. Still wrapped around her water pipe, no doubt. As Turanian candidate for head of the Guild, the woman is going to be a disaster. There again, I can’t see many of these people staying sober for the whole week.
Despite the gathering of so many magic workers under one roof, there’s no real sorcery going on. Though Sorcerers are not as a rule modest, it would be regarded as bad taste to show off one’s powers in such company. Here and there someone might use his illuminated staff to check under his seat for his tankard or place a large object discreetly inside a magic pocket, but there are no demonstrations of great power. Today is for meeting old friends, relaxing, and hearing news from round the world. Demonstrations of power can wait, and so can the election, which won’t happen for a few days yet.
I’m still waiting for Astrath’s report on the piece of paper. He’s decided to attend the Assemblage so I’m hoping to learn something from him later. I wonder if the message was genuine. I hope not. Covinius means trouble. Even for an Assassin he seems to be almost intangible. No one has ever seen him, and that bothers me. In what guise is he planning to appear? Though the Sorcerers are strict about who they admit to the Assemblage, an experienced Assassin like Covinius would have no trouble in assuming a convincing identity. The worrying thought strikes me that he might actually be a Sorcerer. I’ve never heard of a sorcerous Assassin, but there’s always a first time. It’s hard enough gaining any information about the Assassins Guild here in Turai. As for their equivalent in Simnia, who knows? The best I can hope for is that if Covinius does show, he’ll kill someone else and leave Lisutaris alone. If that happens, some other Investigator can sort it out.
Cicerius appears at my side, resplendent in the green-edged toga which denotes his rank.
“Where is Lisutaris?” he enquires.
“Not here yet.”
“Not here yet?” The Deputy Consul is incredulous. “How can she be late at a time like this?”
Cicerius can’t quite understand that not everyone is desperate to do their duty for Turai all the time. He scans the room, tutting in frustration.
“Come with me,” he instructs. “While we await the arrival of our candidate, I shall introduce you to your fellow Tribunes, and Tilupasis.”
He leads me across the floor of the main hall. I pass by many faces I recognise, people who were apprentices at the same time as me and are now powerful Sorcerers. Cicerius ushers me into a small side room, one of the many which adjoin the hall. There we find Tilupasis, Visus and Sulinius. Cicerius introduces us formally.
Tilupasis is thirty-five, with nothing flashy in her appearance. She’s wealthy, fashionable enough, but not much given to frivolity. A politician’s wife and, since the death of her husband, something of a politician herself. I know our Senators take her seriously. She has the ear of the Consul, and friends at the Palace, and the ability to do people favours.
Visus and Sulinius are both around twenty, young men not yet begun on their careers. Sulinius is the son of Praetor Capatius, the richest man in Turai, and Visus is also of aristocratic parentage. They both look fresh-faced and handsome in their white togas, and eager to perform their tasks well. Becoming a Tribune of the People in order to attend the Sorcerers Assemblage is an unconventional start to a political career, but if they do well, Cicerius will look favourably on their subsequent careers.
Tilupasis informs the Deputy Consul that the Assemblage has begun satisfactorily. The Sorcerers are settling in well. More importantly, Tilupasis has already made a count of probable votes, and thinks Lisutaris is in with a chance.
“Sunstorm Ramius is the favourite to win, but there are a lot of Sorcerers here who haven’t decided who to vote for. I’m certain we can get Lisutaris elected provided she herself puts up a good showing.”
Cicerius is pleased. He entreats his two young Tribunes to work hard for Turai. He tells me to let him know the moment I suspect any hint of treachery by any other delegation.
“Above all, be sure to act in a manner which brings only credit to Turai. It is vital that we show our visitors that Turanians are people of high moral standards. Do nothing which could be interpreted otherwise.”
Cicerius departs. Tilupasis turns to us.
“Disregard everything the Deputy Consul just said,” she tells us briskly. “Turai needs to win this election and I’m here to make sure we do. If we can gather enough votes fairly, all well and good. If not, we’ll buy them. I have an endless supply of gold, silver, wine, whores, pretty boys, dwa and thazis to keep the Sorcerers happy. Personal favours, political favours, anything. Whatever they need, we provide. Understand?”
The two young Tribunes gape. This is not what they were expecting. I’m unsurprised. It’s exactly what I was expecting. You don’t win a post like head of the Sorcerers Guild by fair play and good behaviour. Cicerius knows it, though he’s not intending to dirty his hands with the details. That’s Tilupasis’s job, and from her introduction I’d say she was going to be good at it. She starts handing out detailed instructions to Visus and Sulinius as to which Sorcerers they are to approach.
I’m becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I never like being told what to do, and I fear I’m about to be ordered about in a manner quite unsuitable for a Private Investigator. My mood, already poor, worsens.
“Thraxas. I’m not depending on you to charm anyone, or manoeuvre for votes. We’ll take care of that. I need you to look after Lisutaris and inform me immediately if you get wind of anything going on which may damage her chances.”
“Fine. I’ll start in the Room of Saints. I could do with another beer.”
I’m hoping this might annoy her.
“A good choice,” says Tilupasis, unperturbed. “Let me escort you there.”
She leads me out into the main hall. I’m wearing my best cloak but I’m still shabby beside her. Tilupasis is conservatively but fashionably dressed in a white robe with just enough jewellery to let people know she’s got wealth on her side. The hall is now crowded and we pause to allow two blonde-haired female Sorcerers to pass.
“From the far north,” says Tilupasis. “I already have their votes.”