“How gracious of you,” Lady Sarai said. “Now, as I started to explain, the forensic sorcerer, Kelder of Tazmor, has learned something that might be of use in your investigations.”
“And what might that be?” Telurinon asked, in the unconvinced tone of one merely being polite about a waste of his time.
Sarai moved aside and beckoned Kelder forward; the sorcerer stepped up to the railing and announced, “I have found traces of Tabaea the Thief’s presence in this very house—in fact, on this very stairway—dating back some four years, to the summer of 5223.”
“You mean she lived here?” Algarin asked.
“No,” Kelder answered. “The only traces of her presence upstairs were those left when she murdered Serem the Wise. But on several occasions in 5223 she passed through the front parlor, down the hallway and onto this staircase where I now stand.”
“Only that year?” Tobas asked. “Not since then?”
“Not since then,” Kelder confirmed.
“Why did she come down here?” Mereth asked. “Why would Serem allow it?”
“She didn’t go down there,” Kelder said. “The trail stops right here, at this railing.”
The wizards looked at one another.
“She spied on him,” someone said.
“She spied on us,” Lirrin answered. “That was when... I mean... I began my apprenticeship on the eighth of Rains, 5223.”
“These visits,” Telurinon asked. “Can you date them precisely?”
Kelder shook his head. “Not to the day, certainly. I doubt any were as early as Rains, though—I would judge them to fall mostly in the later part of Greengrowth, and perhaps into the first naif of Longdays.”
The wizards exchanged looks again.
“Leave us,” Telurinon said.
Lady Sarai said, “But...”
“Go!” Telurinon bellowed. “We thank you for this information, but we must speak in private now—Tobas, see that the door is locked and warded.”
“Yes, Guildmaster,” Tobas said. He headed for the Starrs.
Sarai and Kelder did not wait for him; they turned and retreated, back up the steps and out through Serem’s cluttered little workroom. They were in the hallway when Sarai heard the door slam shut. “Lady Sarai?” a woman’s voice called.
Sarai turned and saw Karanissa on the stairs. Teneria and Alorria were behind her, watching over her shoulders.
“We sensed some upset,” she said.
“We intruded on Guildmaster Telurinon’s meeting,” Sarai explained.
“Oh.” The witch glanced at the door to the workroom. “That’s unfortunate,” she said. “Telurinon can be very difficult. ” She hesitated, then asked, “Have you had breakfast, either of you?”
“No,” Lady Sarai admitted. “At least, I haven’t. Have all of you?”
“Yes, but don’t let that trouble you.” Karanissa trotted quickly down the stairs and led the way to the kitchens, where she found biscuits, jam, and a variety of fruit for Sarai and Kelder.
Teneria and Alorria joined them there, and the five sat comfortably chatting for some time.
They were still there, though the food was long gone, when Telurinon marched in and informed them all that they were no longer welcome in the Guildhouse.
“It’s nothing personal,” he said, after the initial shock had passed. “The incident this morning demonstrated, however, that it’s a serious mistake to allow anyone not a member of the Guild to be in the building when we have such important and secret matters to discuss as we do at present.”
“Wait a minute,” Sarai protested. “We had an...”
“Lady Sarai,” Telurinon retorted, cutting her short, “or rather, Sarai of Ethshar, we had an agreement to share information relevant to your investigation of a series of murders. Well, that investigation is over now—the identity of the killer is known, her whereabouts are known, and the question is not who is responsible, but how to punish her, which is purely a Guild matter and none of the concern of the city government. And furthermore, you, along with your overlord, have been removed from office. We have no more information to share with you.”
“But...”
“And even if that were not the case,” Telurinon continued, “we never invited you to wander into our councils whenever you chose. There are times when we wish to discuss matters that we never agreed to share with you or anyone else outside the Guild, matters that it is absolutely forbidden for anyone outside the Guild to know.” He turned to the others. “I expect that your husband will find a comfortable inn for you all, Alorria and Karanissa—the Cap and Dagger, perhaps. Or if you prefer, I ’m sure some other member of the Guild will be glad to accommodate you.”
For a moment no one spoke; then Telurinon turned to go. Alorria stuck her tongue out at his departing figure, and Sarai, despite herself, giggled.
When the mage had gone, the giggle vanished.
“Now what will I do?” she asked.
CHAPTER 30
“Is this all of them?” the Empress Tabaea said, looking over the immense crowd that was jammed into her throne room and spilling down the three grand staircases.
“All who would come,” her newly appointed chancellor replied.
Tabaea turned to him, startled. “Some wouldn’t come?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Some people refused your invitation.” “Why? Did they say why?” “Some of them did.” “Why, then?”
The chancellor hesitated, scuffed a foot on the marble, and then said, “Various reasons, Your Majesty.”
Tabaea could smell his nervousness, but was not in a mood to let him avoid explanations. “Name a few, Arl. Just for our enlightenment.”
“Well, some...”He glanced warily at her, and seeing more curiosity than anger, he continued, “some didn’t trust you. They suspected a trick of some kind, that you were going to enslave them all, or kill them.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Tabaea was honestly baffled. She could smell that Arl was telling the truth; his tension had decreased as he spoke, rather than increasing, and liars didn’t do that.
Chancellor Arl shrugged. “I couldn’t say, Your Majesty.” “What other reasons did they give?” “Well, some said they were happy where they were, that they enjoyed living in the open—there are a few people who are like that, Your Majesty...”
“I know.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I never understood why they stay in the city, instead of out in the wilderness somewhere, if that’s what they want, but I’ve met them. What else?”
“A few said they wouldn’t bother moving because they didn’t think... uh... they said that it wouldn’t last, they’d just have to go back in a few days...”
He was getting nervous again. “Why?” the Empress demanded. “Do they think I’m going to change my mind and throw everyone out again?”
“That, or that you... urn... won’t remain in power.” “Oh.” Tabaea frowned. “Well, they’re wrong about that, anyway. The overlord’s run for his life and isn’t coming back, and I ’m going to stay right here.” “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Tabaea turned back to the crowd, then asked her chancellor one final question. “How many are there, here?”
“I have no idea, Your Majesty,” Arl admitted unhappily. “I didn’t think to count them.”
Tabaea nodded, then addressed the crowd. “People of Eth-shar!” she said, “welcome to my palace!”