"That's right," Tabaea said. "Tabaea the First, Empress of Ethshar of the Sands!" She waved toward the others. "And these are my court!" She laughed, and stepped back to the throne. "So old Ederd's fled?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Tabaea settled onto the scarlet cushion, grinning broadly. "But you're still here?"
"Oh, yes, of course, Your Majesty; the palace is my home. Where else would I go?"
"And you'll serve me, as you served Ederd?"
Ista bobbed her head. "If you'll permit me, Your Majesty."
"I will," Tabaea said, gesturing magnanimously. "What about the other servants?"
"I can't speak for them all, Your Majesty, but most of them are still here and ready to obey you."
"Oh, excellent! And what about the others? Ederd had a family, didn't he? And there are all the others, the so-called Minister of Justice and the rest—what of them?"
"Fled, Your Majesty. Lord Ederd the Heir, Lady Zarrea of the Spices, Lord Edarth of Ethshar, Lord Kalthon, all of them fled."
"Well, let them flee, then—maybe they can take shelter in the Wall Street Field!" She laughed. "So this palace is all mine, then?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then show me my new domain, Ista—give us all the grand tour!" She stood again and made a shooing gesture.
Ista hesitated, then curtsied once more. "What would you like to see first, Your Majesty?" she asked.
CHAPTER 27
The three brocade armchairs were already occupied when Lady Sarai stepped into Mereth's front room—Alorria sat in the green, sound asleep; Kelder of Tazmor was in the gold, awake but visibly weary; and an old man Sarai didn't recognize dozed in the blue. Two soldiers leaned against the wall, one of them brushing his elbow against an ink painting; young Thar, who had admitted Sarai, eyed that nervously but said nothing. A few salvaged belongings were in battered knapsacks, stacked in odd corners, looking rather grubby and out of place. The little decorative boxes had all been shoved to one side of the table, making room for a plate covered with crumbs—whatever food had been provided, Sarai had clearly missed it.
"Is Mereth here?" Sarai asked. "Or Tobas?"
Thar shook his head. "No," he said, "they're over at the Guildhouse."
Lady Sarai blinked. "What Guildhouse?" she asked.
"Guildmaster Serem's house, on Grand Street," Thar explained. "Lirrin turned it over to the Wizards' Guild until Serem's murderer is caught." He shrugged. "She doesn't need all that space, anyway."
Sarai nodded. That explained why there had been several other wizards there, as well as Lirrin, when she took Teneria and Luralla to see the murder scene. Naturally, the wizards hadn't said anything about it to her. "Are they… what's happening there?" she asked.
"I don't know," Thar said. "I'm just an apprentice."
"Are they looking for a way to stop Tabaea?"
"I don't know—honestly, Lady Sarai, I don't know."
"I'm going there," Sarai said. She turned back toward the door.
"No, Lady Sarai," Thar protested, "not at this hour! In the morning we'll all go, but right now everyone needs to rest. That's what Guildmaster Telurinon said. I'll be taking Princess Alorria myself."
"We don't have time to rest," Sarai objected. "Tabaea isn't sleeping, is she?"
"I don't know, maybe she is, but whatever she's doing, we should rest. Or at least, you should—I have to stay up in case anyone else comes."
Lady Sarai hesitated.
"Tabaea isn't going to come after us tonight, my lady. Honestly, she won't."
Sarai studied Thar's face and saw a child trying hard to be grown up, a child on the very edge of complete exhaustion. She thought if she argued he would probably start crying.
She didn't want that, and besides, he was right; she was incredibly tired herself. It had been an abominably long day. Hard as it was to remember, when she had gotten up the morning before, about twenty hours ago, she had not yet heard the name "Tabaea the Thief," and she had never met Tolthar of Small-gate.
"The chairs are all taken," she said.
Thar smiled with relief. "The guest beds are all taken, too," he said, "but you can use mine. I have to stay up and watch the door, any way."
Sarai nodded.
The apprentice's bed was lumpy and narrow, and she didn't sleep well; it seemed as if she had only just managed to get comfortable, at long last, when a guard's polite cough awakened her.
"They're getting ready to go to the Guildhouse, my lady," he said. Then he ducked back beyond the curtain that separated Thar's niche from Mereth's kitchen, leaving her to her own devices.
Lady Sarai rose and brushed herself off, then straightened her clothes as best she could; there was no need to get dressed, since she had brought none of her clothing out of the palace with her except the outfit she was wearing. She had packed a few things for her father and brother, but had not worried about her own needs.
She made a quick trip to the privy in the courtyard behind the shop, then rinsed her face with water from the kitchen pump— Mereth was lucky, having a pump right there; or perhaps, since she had surely paid a good bit of money for it, "lucky" was not exactly the right word.
Feeling a little more alert and socially acceptable, Sarai hurried back down the corridor to the consultation room.
A crowd of people was gathered there—everyone who had been present the night before, and others as well. Sarai recognized some of them, but by no means all; there were magicians of various sorts, minor officials in the overlord's government, and people who could have come from anywhere.
And they were all arguing about something, but Sarai could make out nothing of what they were debating. She looked around for help.
The two guards were both there, but this time, instead of standing to one side, they were among those arguing most intently. Thar, however, was leaning silently against the archway, looking distressed.
"What's happening?" Sarai asked him.
The apprentice looked up at her unhappily. "They're arguing about how to go to the Guildhouse."
Sarai blinked. "I had assumed we would walk," she said.
"Well, yes," Thar agreed. He paused, considering, then added, "Except maybe some of the wizards and warlocks—I suppose they might fly."
"Wouldn't that attract attention?"
"Probably."
"So if we're walking," Lady Sarai asked, trying not to let her exasperation show, "what are they arguing about?"
"Whether we should all go at once, or go separately. Some of them think we should go together, in one big group, but the others think that would be too noticeable."
"That's stupid," Sarai said. "Of course we'd be too noticeable." She raised her voice and announced, "I'm going to the Guildhouse now; I'd be glad to travel with one or two others."
"But Lady Sarai…" one of the guards began.
Lady Sarai did not stay to hear what he might have to say; she marched out the door onto Wizard Street.
The morning was a bright and cheerful one; she could hear children laughing as they chased each other through the alleys, and somewhere a block or two away a hawker was shouting out praises of his wares. There was no outward sign at all that a dangerous lunatic had overthrown the government the night before, that the overlord and half his court had fled.
In fact, Lady Sarai suspected that most of the city was unaware of Tabaea's accession to the throne. It would probably be a few days before the average citizen became aware of any change.
Or perhaps not—one of the shops across the way was shuttered and barred. Had the proprietor fled?
Or maybe the proprietor was in bed with a fever, or just taking a day off to go down to the beach. Lady Sarai snorted at her own eagerness to see some difference in the city. Just because her own life was all awry, that didn't mean that the entire city's was.
She did expect that Tabaea's usurpation of power would have its effect eventually, since she doubted very much that Tabaea and her cohorts could rule the ci
ty as well as the old overlord had, but it would be a slow, subtle thing. A city the size of Ethshar mostly ran by itself. Lady Sarai thought of it as a great spinning top, and it was the government's job to keep it balanced—a touch here, a touch there. Tabaea would be bound to miss a wobble here, push too hard there, and before long the whole thing would careen wildly out of control, maybe come smashing to a halt.
But for now, it looked just as it always had. She paused a few steps from Mereth's gilded door, looking about.
"Lady Sarai!" someone called. Sarai turned, a finger to her lips.
It was Alorria who had spoken; she stood in the doorway, leaning forward, her feet still safely within the threshold in case she had to slip quickly back inside. Behind her stood Kelder of Tazmor on one side, Thar on the other.
"Don't use the title," Sarai said mildly. "It might be unhealthy just now."
"Oh," Alorria said. She looked uneasily out at the street.
"What is it?" Sarai asked.
"I'd like to come with you," Alorria said. "I think they're going to argue all day, and I want to see my husband. And I don't know the way to this Guildhouse they talk about. And I don't like traveling alone."
"I would be glad to provide an escort," Kelder said, in his odd Sardironese accent, "but I fear I don't know the house's location, either."
"Well, come on then, both of you." Sarai waited while the two of them hurried out. Kelder, she noted, carried a large knapsack; a floppy, broad-brimmed hat shaded his face, and his feet were ensconced in large, well-worn boots. As for Alorria, while she was not dressed for serious travel, she wore three assorted pouches on her belt; both were probably better equipped than she was herself, Sarai thought wryly.
Together, the three of them strolled northeastward on Wizard Street, moving at a leisurely pace so as not to tax the pregnant Alorria. The sun was bright, and Sarai quickly regretted not having a hat like Kelder's. When she had left the palace in the middle of the night she hadn't worried about sunlight.
They crossed North Street and a block or so later moved on from Nightside into Shadyside—but it was hardly shady today; the shadow of the palace dome could never have reached this far out; the name was more symbolic than descriptive.
"Warm," Alorria remarked. She pulled a gauzy red kerchief from one pouch and draped it over her head, then secured it in place with her coronet. Sarai admired the effect—barbaric, but not unattractive.
She glanced enviously at Kelder's hat—that wasn't exactly barbaric, but it was rather outlandish. There was nothing unreasonable about that, since he was an outlander.
The two foreigners made rather a striking contrast—Kelder in his rough and practical attire, Alorria in her barbarian Small Kingdom splendor of silks and gold. The coronet and kerchief might be pretty, but on the whole, Sarai thought she would prefer Kelder's hat.
And thinking about Kelder, something struck her.
"You said you don't know where the house is," she said accusingly, "but of course you do."
"I do?" Kelder asked, startled.
"Certainly! You've been there."
"I have? No, La… no, I haven't."
"You said you had been there. Did you lie to me?"
"No! How did I lie? I haven't been to the wizards' Guild-house, and I never claimed I had."
"Yes, you have, if you really did the investigating you told me about. It's the old wizard's house. Serem's."
"Ah," Kelder said, nodding. "I see. Then it stands at the corner of Wizard Street and Grand Street, and we are now on Wizard Street, are we not? Need we just follow this right to the door, then?"
"If we want to take all day, we could do that," Sarai agreed, "but Wizard Street turns south and makes a long detour, through Morningside and Eastside, before it comes back north through Midway to Grandgate. We'll be turning and following Harbor Street from Shadyside to Midway, then Gate Street from Midway to Grandgate, and then we'll meet Wizard Street again for the last few blocks."
"Ah," Kelder said. "I see. The streets of Sardiron are not so complex."
"Sardiron isn't as big."
Just then a pair of spriggans ran across the street in front of the threesome, shrieking. Someone shouted imprecations after the creatures. Alorria sighed.
"I wish Tobas had never invented those things," she said.
"Did he really?" Sarai asked.
"Not on purpose," Alorria explained. "A spell went wrong. But yes, it was really his doing."
Sarai looked at her, then around at the shops, at the signboards promising miracles of every sort, at the window displays of strange apparatuses or stuffed monsters, at the posted testimonials from satisfied customers.
Magic really could do amazing things. If anyone could ever get it all organized, all working toward the same end, who knew what might be accomplished?
And of course, who knew what might go wrong?
"Harbor Street," Alorria said. "Isn't that where most of the fighting was last night?"
"I think the worst was on Quarter Street," Sarai said, "but yes, there was fighting there. We'll be reversing the route of Tabaea's march for about half our journey—the entire time we aren't on Wizard Street, we'll be on the streets she used." She had not really thought about that before; it would be interesting to see if there was more obvious evidence of Tabaea's accession than there was on Wizard Street.
Alorria shuddered. "I've never been on a battlefield before," she said.
"A battlefield?" Sarai had never thought of any part of Ethshar of the Sands as a battlefield. Battlefields were far-off places, in the Small Kingdoms or on the borders of Sardiron, not here in the heart of civilization. But what else was Tabaea's route from Grandgate to the palace, but a battlefield?
"We'll see it soon enough," Sarai said. "We turn at the next corner."
CHAPTER 28
At first, when Tabaea awoke, she didn't remember where she was. She looked up at the ornate canopy, the incredibly high, elaborately painted ceiling with its gilded coffering, and wondered what sort of an inn she had found this time.
The bed was broad and long and soft, the coverings rich and luxurious—a bed fit for the overlord, she thought.
And then memory came back. It was a bed fit for the overlord—or for the empress who had deposed him.
But it couldn't be real, she thought, sitting up. It must have been a dream. Even with all her magic, she couldn't have overthrown the overlord in a single night…
Could she?
A bellpull hung by the bed; she jerked at it, then slid out from under the coverlet and onto her feet.
She was wearing a red silk gown that she had never seen before—no, she corrected herself, she remembered changing into it last night. The chambermaid had tried to take away her old clothes, and Tabaea had refused.
Sure enough, draped across a chair was her skirt, still muddy; hung on the back was her embroidered tunic.
A dozen holes had been punched through it, it had been slashed several places, and dried blood had stiffened it horribly. It looked like ancient scraps of untanned black leather.
Tabaea shuddered. Those holes and slashes had been made by swords and spears and arrows, and they had gone right through her, as well. That was her own blood that stained the fabric. She looked down at the robe she wore, then tore it open.
Faint scars traced across her breast. No one would ever have believed they were the remains of wounds less than a day old.
Tabaea blinked. Were they less than a day old? How long had she slept?
A door opened, and a young woman leaned in. "Yes, Your Majesty?" she asked.
"What time is it?" Tabaea demanded. "And what day is it?"
"It's midday, Your Majesty, or close to it, on the sixteenth of Harvest, in the Year of Speech 5227."
Tabaea relaxed slightly. She had marched to the palace on the night of the fifteenth, she was fairly sure. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Lethe of Longwall, Your Majesty. Your morning maid." She curtsied, still half-hidden by
the door. Tabaea noticed that she was wearing the same gold tunic, red skirt, and white apron as the woman last night, Ista, who had given Tabaea a tour of her new home.
But this was definitely not Ista. Lethe was younger, shorter, and plumper. Ista worked at night. Lethe, it seemed, worked mornings.
"My morning maid." Tabaea grinned. "Fine. Excellent." She glanced around the room, and then down at the robe she had just torn.
"Fetch me some clothes, Lethe," Tabaea said. "Clothes fit for an empress. And rouse my court—the ones I brought with me and anyone who didn't flee with old Ederd. I intend to hold audience in half an hour, and I want them all there."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Lethe vanished, closing the door behind her.
Tabaea hopped back onto the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, swinging her feet and looking around the room, at the carved and polished woodwork, the ornate ceiling, the fine tapestries.
Then a tap sounded on the door.
"Come in," Tabaea called.
The door opened, and Lethe reappeared, but still did not fully enter the room. "Your Majesty," she said, "I've passed on your orders, and the mistress of the wardrobe is bringing selections from the closets of Annara the Graceful and others, but she asked me to tell you that there's been no time to make new dresses or alter what was here, so that she cannot promise any will fit properly at first."
"Who's Annara the Graceful?" Tabaea asked. Lethe blinked, startled. "Why, that's the overlord's… I mean, the former overlord's granddaughter."
"Oh," Tabaea said. She had never taken much of an interest in politics. "He has grandchildren?"
"Only the one."
"Too bad. Is she pretty?"
Lethe hesitated. "I couldn't say," she answered at last. Tabaea hopped off the bed again. "I take it she dressed well, at any rate."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I don't expect miracles about the fit…" Tabaea began. Then she stopped.
"But on the other hand," she said, "why shouldn't I expect miracles? Lethe, go fetch me the court magicians!" Lethe's face turned white.
The Spell of the Black Dagger (2nd Edition) Page 22