Of the witches she had dealt with, Sarai knew at least one was a member of the Sisterhood—Shirith of Ethshar, who had tried unsuccessfully to heal Lord Kalthon. There were no annoying delays while meetings were arranged; Shirith and her apprentice came when invited and met with Lady Sarai in the Great Council Chamber that same evening.
Sarai had chosen the council chamber, rather than one of the innumerable smaller rooms in the palace, to impress upon the witches just how important this was—and also because the chamber gave an impression of great privacy, even while Okko would be listening from a concealed room adjoining, and Mer-eth of the Golden Door would be watching by means of a scrying spell.
She dressed for the meeting in a nondescript tunic and skirt. She not only didn’t wear the impressive robes of the Minister of Justice—she had had a set altered to fit her when first she found herself forced to act in her father’s place—but she dressed far more simply than was her wont, to add to the air of secrecy.
The thought struck her as she straightened her skirt that she was probably entitled to some sort of formal costume as Minister of Investigation; she had never worried about it before, since it was not in the nature of the job to make public appearances.
Perhaps this plain black skirt and dark blue tunic would serve. Her mouth twisted in a semblance of a smile at the thought.
She could hear her father’s labored breathing as she crossed to the door; Kalthon the Younger was asleep in his chamber, but their father was awake, lying on the couch—or at any rate, as awake as he ever was anymore.
She took a moment to kiss his brow, then left the apartments and hurried down the corridor.
She found the two witches waiting in the council chamber, looking very small and alone in the two chairs they occupied of the hundred or so that the room held. Three red-kilted guards were standing watch, one at each door; Sarai dismissed them. “Shirith,” she said, when the doors had closed behind the guards, “I’m so glad you could come.”
The elder witch rose and curtsied. When she stood again she smiled wryly, and said, “Perhaps, Lady Sarai, you have not yet realized just how unlikely any citizen of Ethshar is to ignore a summons to the Palace from the Acting Minister of Justice, especially one delivered by a member of the city guard in full uniform, including sword.” Sarai had not thought of it in those terms. She had sent a soldier because he was handy—most of the officials of the overlord’s government used the city guard for their errands outside the palace.
To an ordinary citizen, though...
Well, she saw Shirith’s point. And perhaps it was just as well; she had wanted to impress the witches with the severity of the situation, after all.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Sarai asked. She knew the more skilled and powerful witches could hear the thoughts in people’s heads, if they tried, and Shirith was undoubtedly skilled.
“Do you want me to?” Shirith countered. “Ah, I see you do, if only to save time. I’m sorry, Lady Sarai, but I’m afraid that... oh.”
She paused, then said, “The killings. Poor Kelder.”
Sarai nodded.
“If you could tell me more, Lady Sarai...” Shirith began.
Lady Sarai explained quickly, well aware that Shirith was filling in missing details with her witchcraft.
“I’m afraid,” Shirith said at last, “that I can’t help you. We in the Sisterhood are naturally concerned, even though Kelder was obviously not one of our members. I can attest that I am in no way involved in these killings, nor is any member of the Sisterhood with whom I have spoken in the past month. Your theurgist will confirm that I speak the truth; I don’t know what the wizard’s spell will show, but if it tests veracity, then that, too, should support me.”
So much, Sarai thought, for secrecy.
“Well,” Shirith said apologetically, “once I start listening to what lies behind your words, I can’t always help hearing more than you might want.”
Sarai waved that away. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, “and I didn’t really suppose that the Sisterhood was behind the murders. Can you vouch for the Brotherhood, as well?”
“Not as definitely,” Shirith admitted, “but I can send their leaders to you for questioning.”
Sarai nodded. “That would be useful. Do you have any other suggestions? Anything you would advise me to do to track down these killers who use both wizardry and warlockry?”
Shirith shook her head. “No,” she said, then added, “it’s odd, that combination; wizards and warlocks have distrusted each other since the Night of Madness, and from what I’ve heard, warlockry fits better elsewhere.”
“What do you mean?” Sarai asked. Then she remembered something Kelder had said, when the two of them were studying Serem’s corpse.
“Well,” Shirith said, “it appears, from all I’ve heard, that witchcraft and warlockry are much more closely related to each other than either one is to wizardry.” “I’ve heard that, too,” Sarai admitted. “Do you know who you might want to talk to?” Shirith suggested. “Teneria of Fishertown, from Ethshar of the Spices. The word in the Sisterhood is that she’s made some remarkable discoveries about connections between witchcraft and warlockry— especially remarkable, since she’s still only a journeyman.”
“Thank you,” Sarai said, making a mental note of the name. “I’ll do that.”
In the three days that followed Sarai spoke to a four-man delegation from the Brotherhood and removed that group from suspicion, as well. She sent a messenger by sea to Ethshar of the Spices, to fetch this Teneria of Fishertown. She had notices circulated to demonologists, sorcerers, and other magicians of various kinds that she sought any information they could provide about whoever was responsible for the recent murders.
But she received no reply from either the Council of Warlocks or the Wizards’ Guild, nor did she learn who had killed those men, women, and dogs.
CHAPTER 18
There had been no killings for three sixnights, but Sarai did not believe anyone was safe. The conspirators, whoever they were, might just be lying low, or perhaps the phase of the greater moon might be related, in which case the next murder could occur at any moment.
And during this lull there had been some very curious break-ins. No one was harmed, nothing stolen, but several magicians of different sorts, alerted by Sarai’s far-flung inquiries, had reported signs that they had been spied upon, their workshops entered, their books read. What’s more, the signs left by these strange invasions had included traces of wizardry, warlockry, and even witchcraft. This last had prompted further questioning of Shirith and several other witches, but again, all swore to their innocence, and other magicians said those oaths were truthful.
Sarai was convinced that these break-ins were the work of the murderous conspiracy, but she still had no idea what the conspirators were up to. Furthermore, she still had not met with the Council of Warlocks or the representatives of the Wizards’ Guild.
With all this going on, she really did not much care that Lord Tollern, Minister of the Treasury, was not happy with her. Finding the killers and unmasking the conspiracy was more important than money. Money was only worth what it could buy, and when she hired magicians and sent ships to Ethshar of the Spices and so forth, Sarai was buying information.