Thraxas - The Complete Series Read Online Free PDF

one. He pours me another.
    “Hot as Orcish hell out there,” I say, emptying the glass.
    He pours me a third. He’s not a bad guy for a Sorcerer. I dump my cloak and bag on the floor among the astrolabes, charts, test tubes, herbs, potions and books that form the standard paraphernalia of a working Sorcerer.
    I ask him about the spell, describing it as best as I can remember.
    “That’s a rare item,” says Astrath Triple Moon, stroking his beard. “As far as I know, no Human Sorcerer has ever concocted a successful spell for putting a dragon to sleep. The best we’ve come up with is some temporary distraction.”
    He’s right. I know from painful experience. My platoon faced a dragon in the last Orc Wars, and I tried my sleep spell, full strength. I had more power in my spells then but the dragon hardly blinked. Still, we killed it in the end.
    “Do the Orcs have a spell like that?”
    “They might,” replies Astrath Triple Moon. “After all, they have more experience with dragons than us. And their Sorcerers work on a different system. Weaker in some ways, stronger in others. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve mastered dragoncraft enough to put one to sleep. I wouldn’t have thought they’d let a spell like that out of their hands though. There’s always Horm, of course.”
    “Horm the Dead?”
    I suppress a shudder. You can forget to include me in anything involving Horm the Dead. He’s not the only mad renegade Sorcerer in the world but he’s one of the most powerful and, by all accounts, by far the most frightening.
    “You ever have any dealings with him?”
    Astrath strokes his beard.
    “Not really. But a few members of the Sorcerers Guild have encountered him in the course of their travels and they told me stories about him. That was back when I could still go to Sorcerers Guild meetings of course. Takes dwa and flies, apparently.”
    “So do a lot of people.”
    “No, he really can fly. So they say anyway. And rides dragons.”
    “I thought only Orcs could ride dragons.”
    “Horm is half Orc,” says Astrath. “And he spends his time in the Wastelands working out ways to combine Orc and Human magic. Last we heard he was working on a spell to send a whole city mad. The Eight-Mile Terror, he called it. So we were told anyway. Of course, you can’t trust informants from the Wastelands, but it worried the Guild enough to start work on some counterspell. Horm the Dead doesn’t much care for Humans.”
    “I can’t see why he’d have any involvement in this spell the Princess had though.”
    “Neither can I,” admits Astrath Triple Moon. “And from what you can remember of the spell, it doesn’t really sound like his work. More likely it was stolen from an Orcish Sorcerer. Or maybe their Ambassadors brought it here just in case the dragon decided to go mad and start burning the city.”
    I should hurry home and work this one out. After another beer, a little klee, and a portion of beef from Astrath’s servant, I do just that. I sit in my shabby room and mull it over. What would a Niojan diplomat be doing with an Orcish spell? Trying to sell it perhaps? A valuable item, certainly, which any government would pay well for, but how did he get it? How did the Princess learn of it and why did she want it? And where is it now? Who removed it from Attilan’s garden?
    Faced with so many questions, I go downstairs for a beer. Makri comes over to my table and I tell her about the case. She’s a sensible woman, often good for talking things over with, providing she’s not haranguing me about helping her get into the Imperial University.
    “I don’t think Attilan was ever on diplomatic duty in the Orcish lands, but its possible he’s come across the Orcish diplomats at our Palace. They don’t show themselves in public but they must meet other Ambassadors sometimes.”
    “Maybe he didn’t steal it,” suggests Makri. “Maybe they gave it to him.”
    “Seems unlikely, Makri. Niojans are all