We walk past some small alleyways. Each one we pass is occupied by someone either selling dwa, or using it. The distinctive smell of the burning substance assails us from all sides. It's impossible to travel more than a few yards along the narrow pavement without being approached by someone trying to make a sale. By the third or fourth time I give up answering and just bat them out the way.
"Turai is going to hell," I mutter, stepping over the prone body of an addict, sprawled out in the street. Many of them are young men who should be doing military duty. "If this gets any worse the city won't be worth defending."
I shake my head.
"I should have left this place long ago."
"So why didn't you?" asks Makri.
"I could never think of any place better to go."
The outskirts of the harbour is a really bad part of town, worse even than the rest of Twelve Seas. Shivering young prostitutes, wrapped in threadbare cloaks, try to attract our attention as we pass. Beggars hold out their hands hopelessly, and a few children, far too raggedly dressed to be out in this weather, stand forlornly outside taverns, waiting for their parents to emerge. Things don't improve when I spot Glixius Dragon Killer coming towards us. He's a large man, broad and vigorous. Even without his rainbow cloak he'd stand out from the poor miserable masses around him.
His eyes narrow as he approaches, and so do mine. Glixius Dragon Killer is an old enemy. He's a powerful Sorcerer, though not one who's ever been a credit to the city. Until recently he was outside the influence of the Sorcerers Guild, though he's been brought back into the fold due to the current crisis. That doesn't alter the fact that he's a criminal. He may have escaped conviction, and he might even be fooling the Sorcerers Guild, but he's not fooling me.
Like any successful Sorcerer, Glixius is wealthy. I wonder what he's doing in the poor part of town. Something illegal no doubt. I'm wearing my spell protection charm but I get ready for action because Glixius is strong, and quite capable of launching a physical assault if he feels like it.
Glixius halts right in front of me.
"Thraxas the cheap Investigator," he says, getting straight to the point. I look him in the eye, but don't bother to reply.
"I've been talking to Ravenius," continues the Sorcerer. "He tells me you play rak every week in your cheap little tavern."
I'm surprised. I can't imagine why this would interest Glixius.
"I usually play with General Acarius and Praetor Capatius at the house of Senator Kevarius. But Kevarius has closed his doors for a few days. His wife is down with the winter malady."
He looks at me mockingly.
"I imagine your stakes are too small to be of much interest."
I'm not certain if he's angling for an invitation to our game or merely taking the opportunity to insult me.
"So why don't you join us?"
"I doubt there'd be enough money on the table to make it worth my while."
"You can stake anything you like. I'll be pleased to take it off you."
Glixius eyes me for a few moments. I think he might be smiling though it's hard to tell. He's a square-jawed, steely-eyed sort of individual, and it would take a lot to brighten up his face.
"I never like to sit at a game without five hundred gurans in front of me."
"Five hundred gurans is fine." I reply. "Bring more if you like. It'll be a pleasure to show you how the game is played."
Glixius sneers, then gives the faintest of nods, and marches off.
Makri is looking puzzled.
"What was that about?"
"He wants to play cards."
"At the Avenging Axe? Why?"
"Because he hates me," I say. "Can't get over the time I punched him in the face. Probably he's been looking for revenge ever since. And now he thinks he can humiliate me at the card table. Poor sap. I'm number one chariot at rak."
Makri is doubtful.
"I still think it's strange the way he just walks up out of nowhere and says he's coming to the Axe to play cards."
"That's because you don't appreciate how much he dislikes me. After all, I did once publicly accused him of a serious crime when he was completely innocent."
"You've done that to most people in the city," says Makri.
"That's true. But it's probably still on his mind."
We walk on towards Quintessence Street.
"You don't have anything like five hundred gurans, do you?" asks Makri.
I admit I don't. The most I can raise is about forty. Which might be a problem.
"Do you have anything spare?" I ask.
"Of course I don't," says Makri. "Who does?"
Light snow is falling as we reach the Avenging Axe. I'm looking forward to a beer and a seat by the fire.
"Are you meeting Lisutaris soon?"
"Forget it," replies Makri. "I'm not asking her to lend you money."
"You don't need to ask. Just bring up the subject. She'll probably volunteer."
Makri declines, and I'm obliged to drop the subject as Tanrose is waiting for me when we enter the Axe. I'd like to thaw out in front of the great fire downstairs but she doesn't have a lot of time before getting back to her cooking, so I content myself with taking a bottle of beer upstairs to my office, and lighting the fire. The room is cold and I leave my cloak draped around my shoulders as I take a seat at the large, dark wood desk I use to transact my business.
Tanrose sits down opposite me. She's not a thin woman, but she's not as large as might be expected, given the excellence of her cooking. Tanrose is currently one of the Avenging Axe's more cheerful inhabitants. If she's worried about imminent Orcish invasion it doesn't show. Since becoming engaged to Gurd she's been happy.
"It's odd consulting with you professionally, Thraxas."
I shrug.
"It's about my mother."
"How is she?" I ask politely. I've met her once or twice. Before moving to the tavern Tanrose used to live with her up in Pashish.
"Quite well," says Tanrose. "Though her memory's not so good these days."
She hesitates, and taps a finger on the desk.
"Last week she told me her father once buried a cask containing fourteen thousand gurans near the harbour and it's never been recovered."
I raise my eyebrows.
"Fourteen thousand gurans?"
"In gold."
"Where did the money come from?"
"He was captain of a ship which raided a Simnian convoy."
"Your grandfather was a captain in the navy?"
Tanrose nods. I'm surprised. Common sailors have low status in Turai but ship's captains usually come from wealthier backgrounds. If Tanrose's grandfather was a captain, it means the family has come down in the world. Tanrose is aware of it.
"He was put in prison and most of the family's wealth was confiscated. That's how my mother ended up in Pashish."
"Why was he jailed?"
"He was accused in the Senate of profiteering in the war with the Simnians. He was meant to hand over all booty he collected to the King but it was alleged that he'd held on to his."
"Which, according to your mother, he had."
Tanrose nods.
"There was some dispute over how much money he'd brought home, and what was owed to him. Back then I don't think all the captains were actually in the navy. Some of the ships were private, and the navy used them when there was a war."
I nod. It's true. There were various famous seafarers in the last century who fought for Turai but weren't exactly part of the navy. Some of them were little more than pirates before the great war between Simnia and the League of City States. When war came, Turai overlooked their previous crimes and drafted them into the navy. It wouldn't be unheard of for one of these captains to find himself in possession of a lot of booty, and later find himself in dispute with the King over who exactly owned the loot.
"It's an odd story, Tanrose. But maybe not so unbelievable. What happened to your grandfather?"
"He died in prison. Quite soon after the trial, I think."
"Why did your mother never mention this before?"
Tanrose isn't sure. She thinks her mother may have preferred to forget about the disgrace in the family rather than have it all raked up again.