She hadn't eaten the poisoned meals, either; Sarai didn't know why.
At least, she had turned away meals she said were poisoned, but Sarai had no way of knowing whether poison had actually been present, or that Tabaea hadn't cheerfully consumed poisons in other meals without detecting them-and without being harmed.
And for that matter, if magical attacks had reached her undetected, perhaps they had used up some of her store of stolen lives-but Sarai had no reason to think that had happened. As far as Sarai could see, neither magic nor poison had affected Tabaea's vitality.
The more direct assaults, however, surely did.
If Sarai correctly understood how the Black Dagger worked- which she doubted, since her information was third-hand at best, relayed by Mereth or Tobas or one of Tobas' wives from analyses provided by various wizards-then each time Tabaea killed someone, she added another life to her total; each time she received a wound that would have killed an ordinary person, a life was lost from that sum.
So while she had lost three lives to assassins, she had recovered two of them, tracking down her enemies and stabbing them to death before they had a chance to escape. Neither one had even gotten out of the palace.
That must have been a ghastly sight for the would-be killers, Sarai thought, to look back and see Tabaea, covered with her own blood and wielding that horrible dagger, in hot pursuit. And it had presumably been the last thing they ever saw-at least, for two out of three.
The chase was over now, and Tabaea had retreated to her apartments, to change out of her bloody clothes, to wash the blood from her skin and hair, before going on about the business of ruling me city. She had sent her chancellor and her other followers away, so that she could clean up in private.
And this was what Sarai had been waiting for. The instant Tabaea had set out after the assassin, Sarai had hurried to the imperial quarters, where she had filled the marble tub and hung the kettle over the fire.
"The bath is ready, Your Majesty," she said. "I hope the water's warm enough; it's not my usual job."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Tabaea said wearily, as she handed Sarai her tunic and ambled into the bath chamber. Sarai accepted the garment, bowed, and hurried after.
Tabaea dropped her skirt, stepped out of her girdle, and stepped into the tub.
"It is a bit cool," she said. "See to the kettle, whatever your name is."
"Pharea, Your Majesty," Sarai said. She put the bloody clothes aside and fetched the kettle from the fire, then poured steaming hot water into the tub, stirring it in with her other hand.
She wanted Tabaea to be comfortable, to take a nice, long bath-and give her a good head start.
"You're nervous, Pharea," Tabaea said.
Sarai looked up, startled.
"Don't be," the empress said, "I won't hurt you."
Sarai was not reassured, but she tried to hide her discomfort. "Of course not, Your Majesty," she said. "I suppose it's just the blood."
"Your Majesty?" a new voice called.
Sarai turned, as Tabaea said, "Ah, Lethe! Come in here and help me get this blood out of my hair."
Sarai bowed, collected Tabaea's remaining garments, and backed out of the bath chamber as Lethe stepped in. The servant gave Sarai a startled glance, then ignored her as she tended to her mistress' needs.
Sarai collected Tabaea's bloody clothes into a bundle, and dumped it in me hallway, to be disposed of or cleaned, whichever was more practical-she really didn't know and didn't much care. Her servant act was almost over. In a few seconds she would have what she wanted. She returned to the bath chamber and leaned in.
"I'll just close this door to keep the steam in, shall I?" she said.
"Yes, thank you, Pharea," Tabaea said with a wave.
Sarai closed the door, quietly but firmly.
Then she hurried to Tabaea's belt, still lying on the floor where the empress had flung it; she snatched the Black Dagger from its sheath, took her own knife from concealment beneath her skirt, and substituted the ordinary belt knife for Tabaea's magical weapon. She tucked the Black Dagger carefully under her skirt, then looked around, checking to see if she had forgotten anything.
As she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror; at first, she paid no attention, but then, startled, she stared at the glass.
Her magical disguise was gone; she was no longer Pharea, a moon-faced servant, but herself, Lady Sarai.
The Black Dagger had done that, obviously; it had cut away the illusion spell.
She certainly couldn't afford to stay here, in that case, not that she had intended to. Moving quickly, but not hurrying so much as to attract attention if someone saw her, she stepped out into the passageway and closed the door behind her.
And then, carefully not hurrying, trying very hard to appear as ordinary as possible, she strolled down the hall, down the stairs, and a few minutes later, out of the palace entirely, across the plaza onto Circle Street.
She had done it. She had the Black Dagger.
Now what?
She didn't want to do anything hasty or ill-considered. The obvious thing to do would be to go to the Guildhouse on Grand Street and tell the wizards that Tabaea had been disarmed-but Sarai did not always trust the obvious.
Would magic work against Tabaea now? She still had the strengths and talents of a dozen or so people, even if she could no longer add more. And mere was the question of whether it would be for the best in the long run if wizards removed the usurper empress; however much she might like some of the individual members, Sarai did not like or trust the Wizards' Guild. They had claimed they didn't meddle in politics, yet she was quite sure that if she told them the Black Dagger was gone, they would immediately assassinate Tabaea. Like it or not, Tabaea was the city's ruler. What sort of a precedent would it set if she helped the Wizards' Guild kill a reigning monarch and go unpunished?
Not only would they surely go unpunished, they might expect to be rewarded for such a service. They might well demand a larger role in running the city, or some tangible expression of gratitude. Sarai did not for a minute believe that their strictures against interfering in politics, or their insistence that they wanted to kill Tabaea for themselves rather than the good of the city, would prevent them from expecting payment for such a service to the overlord.
What if they demanded the Black Dagger?
Sarai frowned. She didn't like that idea. The Black Dagger was dangerous.
Of course, wizards were dangerous-but still, why hand them even more power?
And then again, it might be, for all she knew, that the Black Dagger would only work for Tabaea. It might be that the wizards already knew how to make such daggers.
It might be that Tabaea would be able to make another as soon as she found that this one was gone, in which case Sarai really shouldn't be wasting any time-but still, she hesitated. Wherever the Black Dagger came from, whether more could be made or not, Sarai was sure that the wizards would want it.
Well, the wizards had things she wanted-not for Ethshar, but for herself. What if she were to trade the dagger to them in exchange for a cure for her father and brother?
This all needed more thought, despite any risk that Tabaea would make another dagger. The time was not yet right, Sarai decided, for a quick trip to the Guildhouse.
But then, where should she go?
Lord Torrut, she decided. There was no point in letting more assassins die for nothing, not when a single spell might now be enough to handle the problem. She had no doubt at all that the assassins were sent by Lord Torrut; when open battle had failed, he had gone underground, but she was sure he was still fighting.
The question was, where?
The obvious place to start looking was the barracks towers; with that in mind, she headed out Quarter Street toward Grand-gate Market.