"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.
"Your Maj… Majesty," she stammered, "I can't."
"Why not?" Tabaea demanded, more curious than angry. "Are they so terrifying as all that?"
"No, Your Majesty; they're gone. They fled last night, for fear you would slay them all. They said that you had already killed many magicians."
"Oh." Tabaea considered that. Even after spying on several magicians as they discussed the murders, it had never occurred to her that killing half a dozen people could terrorize all the other magicians so thoroughly. It wasn't quite the effect she had in mind. She had just wanted one of each, to absorb their powers and abilities.
Well, what was done was done. "It doesn't matter," she said. "We'll make do with ordinary tailors and seamstresses to adapt my new clothes, then, rather than magic."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
A thought struck Tabaea. "What do they pay you, Lethe?" she asked.
"I have a room here in the palace that I share with three other maids, Your Majesty, and I get my meals, and six bits a day, as well." She lifted a corner of her apron. "And my clothes," she added.
"Is that all?"
Lethe nodded.
"From now on, Lethe, you'll be paid a round and a half- with none of those expensive magicians around, I'm sure the treasury can pay all you servants twice as much!"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you." Lethe curtsied.
"And the dungeons-last night Ista showed me the stair to the dungeons, but we didn't go down. Are there prisoners down there?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I want them freed. Right now. All of them."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Lethe started to turn to go, then stopped and stepped out of the way as two men marched in, hauling a large wooden trunk. Behind this came a tall woman in a green and gold gown, perhaps the most extravagant garment Tabaea had ever seen.