Others had come and gone, men and women of all ages. She could smell the cold stone, the dust on the tapestries, and the lingering scents of the overlord's courtiers. They had stood and knelt on that vast expanse of unfurnished floor. They had been there just that day, Tabaea was sure-but now it might as well have been a century ago, because they were gone, their overlord overthrown. It was all hers now.
She heard footsteps on the stairs, and leaped down from the throne, snatching the Black Dagger from her belt.
A woman was on the stairs; Tabaea could smell her. A woman was approaching, and she was frightened.
Tabaea's followers, the twenty or so that had made it this far, had heard nothing, sensed nothing, until they saw their leader jump from her throne and crouch, knife ready. Their babbling euphoria vanished; a few began to retreat toward the stairs by which they had entered, while the others stared nervously in every direction.
"What is it?" someone asked.
Then the woman's head came into sight as she ascended the staircase to the right, as seen from the throne-the side opposite where Tabaea had entered. By her expression, she was utterly terrified; she hesitated at her first glimpse of the new masters of the palace, then continued up the steps.
She wore a gold tunic and a skirt of dark red, almost maroon, with a white apron protecting the front; her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was not particularly young, nor particularly attractive. She looked harmless; what's more, she smelled harmless. Tabaea relaxed somewhat, rising up from her fighting stance, but keeping the dagger ready in her hand.
At the top step the woman in the apron hesitated again, one hand on the rail. She looked over the ragged crew before her, then turned toward the empty throne and spotted Tabaea, in her fine embroidered tunic that was smeared with blood and pierced by holes and tears left by sword thrusts, and her long black skirt stained with mud from the Field.
The newcomer curtsied, catching her apron and skirt up and bobbing quickly.
Tabaea blinked; she had hardly ever seen anyone curtsy before, and certainly never to her. That was reserved for the nobility.
"Um… Your Majesty?" the woman said. "My lady? I'm sorry, I don't know how to address you."
Tabaea smiled. " 'Your Majesty' will suit me quite well," she said.
"Very good, Your Majesty. You rang for me?"
"I did?" Tabaea remembered the loop on the throne. "Ah, yes, so I did."
"How may I serve you?"
Tabaea sheathed her knife and stood as tall as she could on the dais. "You may begin," she said, "by explaining how you know who I am, and by telling me who you are."
The woman in the apron curtsied again. "My name is Ista, Your Majesty; I'm just a servant. I was on duty downstairs when you rang. As for knowing who you are, I don't know for certain, but we were told that the old overlord was fleeing because a great magician had declared herself empress, and he could not stop her. I assume you are she."
"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.