If you're in trouble in the enchanted—and corrupt—city of Turai, the overweight and uncouth private eye Thraxas is probably your only hope. It was a typical day in Turai. Elves were murdering Orcs, Orcs were murdering Elves, everyone was murdering Dwarves, and anything that wasn't nailed down had been stolen, fenced, then stolen again. Business was booming for everyone but the perpetually indigent Thraxas. So, when the word hit the street that the Sorcerers Guild was going to hold its convention downtown, Thraxas starting counting his unhatched chickens. When sorcerers were involved, two was company, and three was a crime spree. . . .