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"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.
"Your Majesty," this new arrival said, as the men set the trunk on the floor, "it's such an honor to meet you! I'm Jandin, mistress of the wardrobe."
"I'll go tell the guards," Lethe called, ducking out. Almost out of earshot, she added, "If I can find any." The two men departed close on her heels, and the door closed behind them.
Jandin flung open the trunk, revealing a glittering array of expensive fabric, fine embroidery, and bright jewelry. Tabaea gasped, and her eyes went wide.
"Now, if Your Majesty could give me just the tiniest clue as to how you wish to appear today," Jandin said, "I'm sure I can find something here that will suit us…"
An hour later, as the nervous courtiers milled about the Great Hall in two distinct groups, the old and the new, their desultory conversations were cut short by the sound of trumpets. All eyes turned toward the rear staircase, and a few unfortunates quickly scurried to one side or the other to get out of their ruler's path.
As Tabaea rose into sight someone stifled a giggle. The empress was wearing the most incredibly gaudy dress that anyone present had ever seen. The basic colors were red and green, in alternating panels divided by gold borders. Jewels in a dozen hues glittered along every golden border and in elaborate patterns on the panels, as well. Gold braid circled the waist, hips, and bust, and edged each cuff; fine gold chains draped across the bodice. Padded crests rose from either shoulder. Gold-edged slashes in the puffed sleeves revealed tight black velvet undersleeves. She also wore dangling earrings of intricately wrought gold, and a headpiece of woven peacock feathers.
Several jaws dropped at the sight.
"I'll be damned," someone muttered as Tabaea made her slow march down the full length of the hall to the throne. He leaned to a companion and whispered, "I know that dress- A
"Do you think Tabaea knows?"
"She couldn't-she wouldn't wear it if she knew."
"Maybe someone's played a trick on her?"
"That's one very risky trick to play on a known murderer and self-proclaimed empress!"
The speakers had no way of knowing that Tabaea, with her stolen abilities, could hear every word they said. She flushed angrily, but continued her procession, up onto the dais. With each step she considered what, if anything, she should do to Jandin; the wardrobe mistress had not suggested the dress, but she had not said anything against it when Tabaea had pulled it out, either. And she had put it in the trunk in the first place, hadn't she?
But on the other hand, Tabaea realized that this incident might well determine the whole tenor of her reign, whether she was seen as a ruthless tyrant or a merciful and generous benefactor. She had heard those courtiers call her a "known murderer," and she didn't like it. That was not the image she wanted.
Therefore, when she reached the dais, she turned and a
No one answered; no one knew what reply was expected.
"The brutal reign of the heirs of Anaran is ended!" Tabaea a
"She's mad," a courtier muttered, "completely mad!"
"No!" Tabaea shouted. "I am not mad!" She leaped from the dais and marched across the room, a pointing finger thrust out before her.
The courtiers parted, and she confronted the man who had dared to speak.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
The man bowed. "Lord Sancha, Minister of the Port," he said. "At Your Majesty's service."
"Minister of the Port?" Tabaea asked. "I have that honor, Your Majesty."
"Not anymore," Tabaea said. She laughed. "Sancha is no name for a portmaster, in any case. You're now Sancha the Fool, and your job is to entertain me with your foolishness." She had heard of such things in old tales about the Small Kingdoms; she had no idea whether Ethshar had ever had a court jester before, and she didn't much care. It had one now.
"As Your Majesty wills," Sancha said, bowing more deeply- much more deeply, an exaggerated, absurd bow.
Tabaea smiled. He was taking to his new post already. She reached out and grabbed his nose, then turned and led him to the dais. Those watching assumed that Lord Sancha was playing along as he followed, struggling wildly to keep his nose from injury; they had no idea just how strong Tabaea actually was. She was, in fact, hauling Sancha against his will, and the process was quite painful. She pushed him to the floor beside the throne, then sat down.
"It seems we need a new Minister of the Port," she said, "and undoubtedly there are other posts to be filled, as well, as I understand many of the officials of the city chose to depart with old Ederd. Fortunately, I brought some people to fill these vacated positions." She waved at the motley group that had followed her from Grandgate; some were still in their own ragged clothing, while others had plundered the palace and put on newer, cleaner, and better domes. Some were dressed splendidly, others ineptly; the result was a far more mixed group than the original rags had produced, and a far more mixed group than the more uniform and sedate crowd left from the overlord's court.
"Now, if you'll come forward, one at a time, and tell me who you are," Tabaea said, "we'll see if we can't put together a better government than this city has ever seen before!"