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Ederd looked at her thoughtfully. "Go on," he said.
"Well, naturally, I said that I would need to consult with you about it, but that I thought it might be done-and that perhaps arrangements could be made to pay part of the rent in services, rather than gold." She smiled. "Of course, we all know that they want to be sure their meetings can't be observed by wizards; despite their cooperation against Tabaea, they do see the Wizards' Guild as a rival."
"You think allowing these warlocks in the palace would be wise?"
"I think that if they meet here, wizards won't be able to observe them, but we will. And I think that having the Council of Warlocks in your debt can't hurt."
Ederd nodded.
Sarai cleared her throat, and added, "If you wish, my lord, I could send messages to the two witches' organizations, the Sisterhood and the Brotherhood…"
"It bears thinking about," the overlord agreed. He glanced at Sarai again. "It interests me, Lady Sarai, that the warlocks came to you."
"Well, my lord," Sarai said, "I've dealt with them before, in my duties as your investigator."
"My investigator," Ederd echoed. "And my Minister of Justice, at least until your brother is old enough, and well enough, for the job-if he ever is. And it seems that your recent actions have made you my liaison to every magician in Ethshar, as well. You'll be a very busy young woman."
"In your service, my lord." She bowed.
"While we were in port, the rumors among the sailors aboard my ship mentioned you, you know," the overlord said.
"Really, my lord?"
He nodded. "They scarcely mentioned the Wizards' Guild. It seems they credit you, Lady Sarai, with forcing Tabaea back into the palace and trapping her with the Seething Death while this counterspell of young Tobas' was performed. That you offered Tabaea her life, but without magic, and that she chose to perish instead. The tone of the accounts was frankly admiring." He smiled. "It's a good begi
"It isn't…"
The overlord held up a hand, silencing her. "The truth of the matter really isn't as important, you know, as what people believe."
"But…"
"There are also stories," Ederd continued, "about the meetings you held before Tabaea's identity was known. They say you have sorcerers who would do anything to please you, that a cult of assassins fears you. And it's said you can vanish and reappear at will, that you're a master of disguise."
Sarai was too astonished to protest further.
"You will understand, I am sure," the overlord said, "that at my age, I am no longer looked upon with awe or fear; that my son, while a good man, has utterly failed to distinguish himself in a lifetime of being my heir and nothing else, and furthermore managed to do nothing but flee when Tabaea threatened his inheritance; and that it's therefore very useful for me to have someone in my service who is looked upon as a hero, who is believed to have performed superhuman deeds in the interest of keeping me on my throne, or restoring me to it-and who had a chance to take that throne herself, as you are presumed to have had when Tabaea was dead and I not returned, yet who turned that chance down. The existence of such a hero will, I am sure, discourage attempts to emulate poor little Tabaea. I therefore order you, Lady Sarai, as your overlord, not to deny any rumors about your abilities, or about secret knowledge you may possess, no matter how absurd."
Sarai's mouth opened, then closed. She stared at Ederd, then finally managed, "Yes, my lord."
"Good. Then I believe we part here; I'm using Lord Torrut's quarters until my own apartments are repaired." He turned, supported by the guard commander, and hobbled down a side corridor.
For a moment, Lady Sarai watched him go. Then she walked on, not toward her own apartments, but toward an exit from the palace. She wanted to walk in sunlight and fresh air, to think. She did not feel ready to talk to her brother and his nurse.
Besides, she had not yet decided which quarters were hers; should she return to her own old room, or take her lather's?
It was a trivial matter, really, but right now, after sixnights of worrying about usurpers and murderers, World-shaking magic and matters of life and death, she preferred to think about trivia.
She emerged onto the plaza and looked out at the city of Ethshar of the Sands, the streets and houses stretching away in all directions. Directly ahead of her a wisp of smoke from a kitchen fire was spiraling slowly upward.
It reminded her of the smoke from her father's pyre. He was really gone, now-his soul was free, risen to the gods on that smoke.
She wondered whether Tabaea's soul had been freed when her body was destroyed, or whether the Seething Death had consumed that, as well. And what of the various people killed by the Black Dagger? No necromancer, of any school, had ever been able to find any trace of their ghosts, either in the World or elsewhere.
She supposed she would never know. There were a great many things she supposed she would never know.
But that would never stop her from learning what she could.