"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, shecorrected 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 fitproperly 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.

"YourMaj . . . 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," shesaid. "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 comer 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- Annara had it made for a show in the Arena. It was supposed to represent greed and tastelessness."

"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 announced, "Welcome, mypeople!"

No one answered; no one knew what reply was expected.

"The brutal reign of the heirs of Anaran is ended!" Tabaea announced. "Today we begin a new era of justice and mercy! I hereby decree an end to slavery in this city; all slaves in Ethshar of the Sands are to be freed immediately! I decree forgiveness for those who have been driven to crime by the cruelty of my predecessors; all prisoners in the dungeons are likewise to be freed immediately! I decree that the brutal oppression of innocents by the city guard is to cease immediately; all guardsmen are to surrender their swords and are hereby charged with finding food and lodging for all those who have been forced to take shelter in the Wall Street Field! I decree that those who serve me shall be paid according to their true worth, and that for the present, that shall be assumed to be twice whatever my foul predecessor, the so-called overlord, saw fit to pay them!" "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!"

CHAPTER 29.

At first glance, Harbor Street appeared unchanged-but upon a closer look, Sarai noticed differences. Windows were broken, buildings blackened by smoke, and walls chipped by blades and flying debris. Dark stains could still be seenin the dirt. And several businesses, perhaps the majority, were closed, although it was full daylight.

At least there weren't any bodies or other remains; someone had cleaned up after the fighting, clearing away the dead and wounded, dropped weapons, broken glass, and the rest.

Even so, the journey impressed upon Sarai that Tabaea had done real damage to Ethshar of the Sands. She arrived at the Guildhouse in a very somber and thoughtful mood indeed.

Someone she didn't know opened the door to her knock, and showed the three of them, Sarai and Kelder and Alorria, into the parlor. Alorria inquired after Tobas, and was promptly led away; Kelder and Sarai waited in uncomfortable silence for a second or two before Mereth, rumpled and worried, came to welcome them.

"How many died?" Sarai asked Mereth, after only the most perfunctory greetings.

"I don't know," Mereth said."I don't think anyone's counted. At least, no one here; I suppose Lord Torrut knows."

"Where is Lord Torrut, then?"

Mereth shrugged."I don't know, Lady Sarai. In hiding somewhere, probably-or perhaps he's holed up in the barracks towers; so far, almost all of the city guard has remained loyal to him."

Lady Sarai looked around at the parlor, which had continued undisturbed by Serem's murder, by the house's usurpation by the Wizards' Guild, by the overthrow of the city government. The animated plant still fanned the air endlessly.

She shooed away a spriggan and then settled slowly onto a divan embroidered with pink and green flowers.

"Is that wise?" she asked.

Mereth blinked, puzzled. "Is what wise?"

"I take it that Lord Torrut is still resisting," Sarai said,"even though Tabaea's in the palace and the overlord has fled."

"Well, he isn't actually fighting anymore," Mereth said, seating herself in a nearby armchair, "but I'm sure he isn't taking orders from her."

"And I wonder if that's wise," Sarai said. "Maybe we should just let her govern and not damage the city further."

"But she's a murderer!" Mereth protested, "and a thief, a burglar! And she's .

. . wizards aren't allowed in government."

"Is she a wizard?" Sarai asked. "She's not a member of the Guild."

"She's a magician, and she's something like a wizard, and the Guild doesn't want any magicians interfering in politics. It's dangerous. It's a bad precedent."