As for witchcraft, that drew its power from the witch’s heart and belly, which was why witches were so limited in what they could do. A witch could die of exhaustion doing tasks a warlock or wizard would find easy. Witches, therefore, had learned subtlety, had learned to use knowledge more than power—but Tabaea had only the power and not the knowledge, and she wasn’t sure she had the patience to learn.
It did occur to her that thanks to the Black Dagger, she surely had more raw strength in her heart and gut than any other witch who had ever lived; still, she was not sure of how to use it. She wasn’t really sure how to use any of her stolen skills and strengths, though she was learning.
Tabaea found it very amusing mat the magicians all thought she was a conspiracy, rather than an individual; she giggled quietly into the palm of her hand. Little Tabaea the Thief, a World-spanning conspiracy of evil?
Besides, she wasn’t evil, not really; she just wanted her share of the good things in life. She wanted to be on top, instead of on the bottom.
One of the wizards had suggested that the conspirators intended to overthrow the overlord and take over the city. Tabaea hadn ’t thought of that.
Overthrow the overlord? Rule Ethshar of the Sands? She liked that idea. She liked it very much indeed. The entire city at her beck and call? Servants to fulfill her every whim? Her choice of the baubles and pretties on Luxury Street, or of the handsome men of Morningside? What a lovely thought—Tabaea the First, Overlord of Ethshar!
No, not overlord—that wasn’t enough. The overlord ruled as part of the triumvirate and as first among the lords; she wanted to rule on her own, like the monarchs in the Small Kingdoms. Rather than overlord, she would be queen! Queen of Ethshar!
And why stop with the city? Why not conquer the entire World and be empress? She was not giggling anymore; she was starting to take the idea seriously. Why not?
Well, because she was just one woman, that was why. She had her magical powers, of course—she was stronger, more powerful than anyone. She knew, from her eavesdropping and some careful experimentation, that most magic could not work against her: The Black Dagger seemed to nullify any wizardry; she had warlockry of her own, and the one thing a warlock’s power couldn’t seem to touch was another warlock; witchcraft could not directly defeat her because she was stronger than any other witch; theurgy was inherently nonviolent and therefore could not harm her.
Sorcery was still an unknown, though; demonology and some of the minor arts were mysteries, too. And she was not at all sure what would happen if someone managed to get at her with an ordinary weapon. It was not likely that anyone ever could, given ner stolen senses and strength and speed—but on the other hand, she still had to sleep sometimes.
But who had to know any of that?
Conquer the city...
She would, she decided, have to think this over very carefully indeed.
Moving as silently as a cat, she hurried away, back to the window she had left open, and then out to the open air.
CHAPTER 20
Sarai sat dejectedly in Captain Tikri’s office. She had spent the day taking Teneria the witch and Luralla the warlock to the scenes of the various murders, hoping that Teneria might be able to leam something useful with her unique understanding of how witchcraft and warlockry were related; Luralla had been along more as a power source for Teneria than anything else. The net result was nothing; Teneria could do no more than confirm what other witches had already learned. Wizardry and warlockry had been used, and the murderer had left no psychic traces.
Sarai gathered from Teneria that this last was unusual, but just what it meant was not clear. Some witches could choose not to leave traces; warlocks often left no traces, but did not appear to have any voluntary control over it; some spells that wizards used could hide or erase traces. Which of those applied here, Teneria could not say.
The witch was off to her room in the palace now, to refresh herself a little, and Luralla had gone home, leaving Sarai and Tikri in the office. A spriggan had followed them back to the palace; Sarai shooed it away with a shove of her toe, and the little creature backed away, but did not leave the room.
“I hate this,” she muttered to herself. “I should be tending my father, or listening to his cases for him. There must be a sixnight’s backlog by now.”
“Then why don’t you go handle some of them?” Captain Tikri asked from behind her. She turned, startled. “I couldn’t help hearing,” he said, not very apologetically at all.
“That’s all right,” she said. “I should go—but I couldn’t concentrate on it.”
“You might want to try, though—a distraction might help clear your thoughts on this whole mess.”
Sarai stared at Tikri for a moment, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “I should...”
“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said.
Startled, Sarai turned around and found a small man in a nondescript brown tunic and breeches standing in the doorway.
“Yes? ”she asked.
“I’m Kelder of Tazmor,” the man said, speaking with a curious accent. “I got your message.”
Sarai paused to gather her wits somewhat before she asked, “What message?” The accent, she realized, was Sardironese.
“Ah... you are Lady Sarai, aren’t you?” Kelder asked.
“Yes, I am,” Sarai admitted. “But I still...”
“You sent messengers to Sardiron,” the little man said, “asking for help in solving a series of murders—didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes, that message,” Sarai said. “Of course. And you...?”
“I’m a sorcerer,” Kelder explained. “A forensic sorcerer. When I got your message I came south as quickly as I could.” “Oh, I see; and you’ve just arrived? Do you need a place to stay? I’m sure a room...”
“No, no,” Kelder assured her. “I have a very comfortable room at an inn out by Grandgate; I arrived in the city several days ago.”
“Oh. And you’ve been seeing the city?” Sarai asked. Kelder nodded. “You might say that, Lady Sarai. You see, I’ve been investigating these murders independently—I didn’t want to allow myself to be influenced by any preconceived notions you might have. This is the sort of study where my specialty can really shine, Lady Sarai. I think that the use of forensic sorcery has been shamefully neglected in Ethshar, not just in this city, but throughout the entire Hegemony. To the best of my knowledge, you haven’t consulted any sorcerers on this case:” “Forensic sorcery?” She glanced at Tikri, who shrugged. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“It’s rather a neglected field,” Kelder admitted. “I did talk to sorcerers, you know,” Sarai said. “None of them were able to help.” Kelder shrugged. “Ethsharitic sorcerers,” he said scornfully. “Amateurs.”
“And you’re a professional?” Tikri demanded. “I like to think so,” Kelder said, a trifle smugly. “I’ve been studying forensic sorcery ever since I was an apprentice. In general, Sardironese sorcery is considerably more advanced than anything you have here.”
“The Northern taint,” Tikri remarked. “Yes, exactly,” Kelder agreed, ignoring the captain’s insulting tone. “The Baronies of Sardiron, and especially my homeland of Tazmor, were part of the Northern Empire throughout the Great War. Thanks to the relics of the Empire, we have far more to work with than you Southerners.”
“So you’ve come south to show us how it’s done?” Tikri suggested sarcastically.