Cicerius, not bothering to conceal his loathing and contempt. “I will bring the Princess. Though why she insists on seeing him is beyond me.”
I drink some deat, fail to sober up, and start wondering exactly where I am.
“The reception room of the Princess’s chambers,” a servant tells me.
“Right,” I grunt. “I suppose Princesses don’t get thrown in the slammer like ordinary people.”
I think of all the times I’ve been thrown in jail and get slightly maudlin. “Nobody loves me,” I tell the servant.
Cicerius arrives back with Princess Du-Akai. I greet them genially. The Princess thanks me for coming. She doesn’t comment on my drunkenness. Good breeding.
“I am in grave trouble.”
“I bet you are.”
“I need you to help me.”
“Too bad,” I say, again gripped by alcoholic aggression. “I’m all out of help for clients who lie to me.”
“How dare you speak to the Princess like that,” roars Cicerius, and we start to argue. Princess Du-Akai intervenes. She motions both the servants and the Praetor outside, and draws up a chair next to me.
“Thraxas,” she says, in the most pleasant of voices. “You are a drunken oaf. Tales of your misdemeanours while working at the Palace do not do you full justice. In the normal course of affairs, I would have nothing whatsoever to do with you. You’re so far below me in the social ladder I wouldn’t notice if I stepped on you. That woman with the Orcish blood is better bred than you. As well as being a drunk, you’re gross, and a glutton, both qualities I despise. You belong in your slum in Twelve Seas, and I’d much rather you were there than here in this room with me. However, I need your help. So sober up, stop playing the fool, and get ready to listen.”
“I seem to be doing a lot of listening already. Why should I help you?”
“For two reasons. Firstly, I shall pay you extremely well. I understand you are badly in need of money. Gambling is another of your bad habits.”
I curse. My gambling debt seems to be the most talked about thing in this city. Even the Royal Family knows about it.
“What’s the second reason?”
“If you don’t help me, I will ensure that your life in this city is hell on earth. I may be heading for a secure cell in a nunnery but I’m still third in line to the throne, and I have more influence in my little finger than you have in your whole fat body. So listen.”
She holds out a heavy purse. I listen.
Chapter Sixteen
W hen I’m finished listening I’m led into the next chamber by a servant. Cicerius is waiting for me. He is no more friendly than before. The fact that the Princess thinks I can help her doesn’t make him any keener on me. Cicerius is not known for his affability. Despite his unparalleled reputation for honesty he is commonly regarded as a rather distant and austere man. Senators rarely hobnob with commoners like myself, and Praetors never do, except when they need their votes.
As I enter he is in animated conversation with a younger man whom I recognise as his son, Cerius. The Praetor sees me enter but does not acknowledge my presence so I sit down heavily and wait for him to finish. I’m tired and want to go home and sleep. Damned Princess.
Finally Cicerius turns to me. “I trust your interview was satisfactory.”
“Very satisfactory,” I brag. “The Princess knows I’m number one chariot when it comes to investigating so she’s decided to put the whole affair in the hands of a man who can get things done. Smart woman, the Princess.”
Cicerius fixes me with a hostile gaze. He is famous for his oratory and advocacy in the law courts. Part of his considerable armoury while making speeches is his range of facial expression, and the expression he wears when looking at me speaks volumes, rather like a man peering at a rat crawling out of a sewer. No way to behave when he’s trying to be elected to a public post, I would’ve thought, but I suppose he doesn’t care
I drink some deat, fail to sober up, and start wondering exactly where I am.
“The reception room of the Princess’s chambers,” a servant tells me.
“Right,” I grunt. “I suppose Princesses don’t get thrown in the slammer like ordinary people.”
I think of all the times I’ve been thrown in jail and get slightly maudlin. “Nobody loves me,” I tell the servant.
Cicerius arrives back with Princess Du-Akai. I greet them genially. The Princess thanks me for coming. She doesn’t comment on my drunkenness. Good breeding.
“I am in grave trouble.”
“I bet you are.”
“I need you to help me.”
“Too bad,” I say, again gripped by alcoholic aggression. “I’m all out of help for clients who lie to me.”
“How dare you speak to the Princess like that,” roars Cicerius, and we start to argue. Princess Du-Akai intervenes. She motions both the servants and the Praetor outside, and draws up a chair next to me.
“Thraxas,” she says, in the most pleasant of voices. “You are a drunken oaf. Tales of your misdemeanours while working at the Palace do not do you full justice. In the normal course of affairs, I would have nothing whatsoever to do with you. You’re so far below me in the social ladder I wouldn’t notice if I stepped on you. That woman with the Orcish blood is better bred than you. As well as being a drunk, you’re gross, and a glutton, both qualities I despise. You belong in your slum in Twelve Seas, and I’d much rather you were there than here in this room with me. However, I need your help. So sober up, stop playing the fool, and get ready to listen.”
“I seem to be doing a lot of listening already. Why should I help you?”
“For two reasons. Firstly, I shall pay you extremely well. I understand you are badly in need of money. Gambling is another of your bad habits.”
I curse. My gambling debt seems to be the most talked about thing in this city. Even the Royal Family knows about it.
“What’s the second reason?”
“If you don’t help me, I will ensure that your life in this city is hell on earth. I may be heading for a secure cell in a nunnery but I’m still third in line to the throne, and I have more influence in my little finger than you have in your whole fat body. So listen.”
She holds out a heavy purse. I listen.
Chapter Sixteen
W hen I’m finished listening I’m led into the next chamber by a servant. Cicerius is waiting for me. He is no more friendly than before. The fact that the Princess thinks I can help her doesn’t make him any keener on me. Cicerius is not known for his affability. Despite his unparalleled reputation for honesty he is commonly regarded as a rather distant and austere man. Senators rarely hobnob with commoners like myself, and Praetors never do, except when they need their votes.
As I enter he is in animated conversation with a younger man whom I recognise as his son, Cerius. The Praetor sees me enter but does not acknowledge my presence so I sit down heavily and wait for him to finish. I’m tired and want to go home and sleep. Damned Princess.
Finally Cicerius turns to me. “I trust your interview was satisfactory.”
“Very satisfactory,” I brag. “The Princess knows I’m number one chariot when it comes to investigating so she’s decided to put the whole affair in the hands of a man who can get things done. Smart woman, the Princess.”
Cicerius fixes me with a hostile gaze. He is famous for his oratory and advocacy in the law courts. Part of his considerable armoury while making speeches is his range of facial expression, and the expression he wears when looking at me speaks volumes, rather like a man peering at a rat crawling out of a sewer. No way to behave when he’s trying to be elected to a public post, I would’ve thought, but I suppose he doesn’t care
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