The Spell of the Black Dagger

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “Minister of the Port?” Tabaea asked.

  “I have that honor, your Majesty.”

  “Not any more,” 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 clothes. 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 Twenty-Nine

  At first glance, Harbor Street appeared unchanged—but upon a closer look, Sarai noticed differences. Windows were broken, buildings blackened by smoke, walls chipped by blades and flying debris. Dark stains could still be seen in 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 any more,” 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.”

  “Then perhaps it’s the job of the Wizards’ Guild to remove her,” Lady Sarai said. “I don’t see any reason to throw away more lives trying to depose her. And whether we like it or not, at the moment she is the ruler of Ethshar of the Sands, and she can’t rule without the city guard—the guard is what gives the government authority, and no one can run the city without it. I think perhaps Lord Torrut should reconsider.”

  “I don’t,” Mereth said. “Maybe if she finds out that she can’t run the city she’ll pack up and leave.”

  “Somehow, I doubt she’ll do that,” Sarai replied. “And who’s to say that she can’t be a good ruler? It’s not as if Ederd was chosen by the gods, or worked his way up to be overlord; he just happened to be born right.”

  “Isn’t that enough?” Mereth asked, shocked. “He’s Anaran’s heir!”

  “Anaran was a fine general, but does that mean all his descendants are going to be natural rulers?” Sarai said. “They’ve ruled Ethshar of the Sands for seven generations now; doesn’t that mean that less than one part in a hundred of Ederd’s blood comes from Anaran?”

  “Oh, but they’ve intermarried with the families of the other overlords, and bred back in...”

  “So what?”

  “Lady Sarai,” Kelder interrupted, “at least Anaran’s descendants did not take their thrones by force, or murder innocents in their beds.”

  “That’s true,” Sarai admitted. “But I still don’t like it. I don’t want anyone else to be killed.”

  “None of us do,” Mereth said. “Or at least, we don’t want anyone other than Tabaea to be killed.”

  “Mereth?” The voice came from the archway opening into the central hall; Sarai and Kelder turned to find Lirrin, Serem’s former apprentice, standing there.

  “You’re needed downstairs,” Lirrin said.

  “What’s happening downstairs?” Sarai asked. She blinked; was there a downstairs? She hadn’t noticed that when she visited the house in the course of her investigation.

  “Guild business,” Lirrin said apologetically. Mereth rose, gathering her skirts, then looked back at Sarai.

  “Oh.” Sarai glanced at Kelder, who shrugged.

  “I’m no more a wizard than you,” he said. “We can wait here together and pass the time.”

  “I’m sorry, Lady Sarai,” Mereth said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She and Lirrin vanished down the hallway.

  That left Kelder and Sarai alone in the parlor; for a moment they sat in awkward silence.

  “Do you still have all those talismans and trinkets of yours?” Sarai asked at last.

  “Of course,” he said, gesturing at his pack.

  “Do you think they could tell you anything more about Tabaea that might be useful in deposing her? She was in this house once, after all.”

  “Oh, I doubt it,” Kelder said. “There will be traces, but what they can tell us will be limited. If you like, I can see what there is to see.”

  “I’d be very interested.”

  Kelder bobbed his head in a semblance of a bow. “Then I’ll try,” he said. He opened his pack and began rummaging through it.

  A moment later he emerged holding a thin silver box set with square-cut gems. “A denekin allasir,” he explained, tapping an uneven rhythm upon it.

  “What’s that mean?” Lady Sarai asked.

  “I haven’t any idea,” Kelder admitted. “It’s just what it’s called.”

  “What does it do?�
�

  Kelder proudly explained, “It reads traces a person has left—flakes of skin, bits of hair, even the air he or she breathed—and then displays for me a pattern of lights, in this row of jewels here, that I can interpret to tell me about that person. What I can see will vary; sometimes it’s a great deal, sometimes it’s nothing at all.”

  Lady Sarai looked at the row of jewels Kelder pointed to. She could see odd little curls of light, glowing deep within the stones, but they made no pattern that she could see. “And what does it tell you about Tabaea?” she asked.

  “Well, this is the device that gave me the description I gave you,” Kelder said. “I don’t suppose it will find any trace of her in here, though; the murder was upstairs, and I assume Tabaea came in through the bedroom window.”

  “Did she?”

  Kelder hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said. “Shall we find out?”

  Sarai nodded.

  “If she used the stairs, we’ll probably find...” Kelder began, as he tapped at a dark blue gem on the side of his little box. Then he stopped in mid-sentence and stared. He began tapping other jewels and various places on the surface of the allasir.

  “What is it?” Lady Sarai asked.

  “She was here,” Kelder said.

  “That’s not so very surprising,” Sarai began.

  “No, no, Lady Sarai,” Kelder said, cutting her off. “She was here four years ago. Several times.”

  “Perhaps she knew Serem, then,” Sarai suggested. “Perhaps she bought a potion from him, or sold him something he needed for one of his spells. It’s hardly as shocking as all that.”

  Kelder blinked.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Yes, of course you’re right.” He sighed. “And here I thought I’d found something important.”

  “Well, perhaps you did,” Lady Sarai said comfortingly. “There might be a connection. Why don’t we go discuss it with the others, the wizards?”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Kelder asked.

  “Yes, I do,” Sarai said, getting to her feet. “I’m tired of being shut out by them, anyway. Maybe we can trade this discovery of yours for some of their information.” She pushed aside the plant that was waving determinedly at her, and headed for the hallway. Kelder followed.

  In the central corridor Sarai stopped, suddenly aware that she didn’t know where the wizards were.

  “That way,” Kelder said, holding out his silver box.

  Following his directions, Sarai soon found herself on the stairs to the old wizard’s great underground chamber, which she had not known existed; surprised into caution and silence, she crept down the steps slowly and carefully.

  Before her, she saw a score of wizards—Mereth, Tobas, Lirrin, the Guildmasters Telurinon, Heremon, and Algarin, and others she knew only slightly or not at all. No one else could be seen; despite Tobas’ presence, Alorria was not there.

  Voices rose from below.

  “...the dagger,” an unfamiliar voice said. “It must be that dagger she carries that’s stopping all our spells.”

  “I don’t think there’s much doubt of that,” replied Telurinon. “Which leaves us with the question of where the dagger came from, and what it is, and how this thief obtained it.”

  “We’ve been using the Spell of Omniscient Vision,” Mereth’s voice said. “We’ve managed to follow her back for a few months, though it’s very difficult, the way she’s constantly moved around and never lived in the same place for more than a few sixnights. She’s always had that dagger, as far back as we’ve gone. She always had that embroidered tunic and black skirt, and a few other things, as well—I’ve made a list—are you sure it’s the dagger?”

  A chorus of voices replied, all in the affirmative.

  Lady Sarai cleared her throat.

  No one heard her, as Telurinon said, “I’m sure you’ve all seen the significance of the fact that this woman’s magic appears to reside in a dagger...”

  “Ahem,” Lady Sarai said loudly. She really did not want to be accused of spying on wizards.

  Several eyes turned toward her, and someone shrieked.

  “Excuse me,” Lady Sarai said, trying very hard to stay calm, “but Kelder and I have just learned something that we thought might be of use.”

  Guildmaster Telurinon stepped forward from the corner where he had been standing, and glared up at the new arrivals.

  “Lady Sarai,” he said, “what is the meaning of this intrusion? Surely, despite your display the other day at the Cap and Dagger, you know better than to enter uninvited into the private councils of the Wizards’ Guild!”

  Lady Sarai glared back. “And surely you, sir, know better than to leave the doors unlocked and unwarded when conducting private councils! Therefore, this could hardly have been such a council, or else neither of us would have made such a foolish mistake!”

  Mereth giggled nervously; Tobas threw her a warning glance.

  “The doors of this house are locked and warded, my lady, and you are here only because the door was opened for you,” Telurinon replied. “Still, I see your point and concede that you have not forfeited your life.”

  “How gracious of you,” Lady Sarai said. “Now, as I started to explain, the forensic sorcerer, Kelder of Tazmor, has learned something that might be of use in your investigations.”

  “And what might that be?” Telurinon asked, in the unconvinced tone of one merely being polite about a waste of his time.

  Sarai moved aside and beckoned Kelder forward; the sorcerer stepped up to the railing and announced, “I have found traces of Tabaea the Thief’s presence in this very house—in fact, on this very stairway—dating back some four years, to the summer of 5223.”

  “You mean she lived here?” Algarin asked.

  “No,” Kelder answered. “The only traces of her presence upstairs were those left when she murdered Serem the Wise. But on several occasions in 5223 she passed through the front parlor, down the hallway, and onto this staircase where I now stand.”

  “Only that year?” Tobas asked. “Not since then?”

  “Not since then,” Kelder confirmed.

  “Why did she come down here?” Mereth asked. “Why would Serem allow it?”

  “She didn’t go down there,” Kelder said. “The trail stops right here, at this railing.”

  The wizards looked at one another.

  “She spied on him,” someone said.

  “She spied on us,” Lirrin answered. “That was when ... I mean ... I began my apprenticeship on the eighth of Rains, 5223.”

  “These visits,” Telurinon asked. “Can you date them precisely?”

  Kelder shook his head. “Not to the day, certainly. I doubt any were as early as Rains, though—I would judge them to fall mostly in the later part of Greengrowth, and perhaps into the first half of Longdays.”

  The wizards exchanged looks again.

  “Leave us,” Telurinon said.

  Lady Sarai said, “But...”

  “Go!” Telurinon bellowed. “We thank you for this information, but we must speak in private now—Tobas, see that the door is locked and warded.”

  “Yes, Guildmaster,” Tobas said. He headed for the stairs.

  Sarai and Kelder did not wait for him; they turned and retreated, back up the steps and out through Serem’s cluttered little workroom. They were in the hallway when Sarai heard the door slam shut.

  “Lady Sarai?” a woman’s voice called.

  Sarai turned and saw Karanissa on the stairs. Teneria and Alorria were behind her, watching over her shoulders.

  “We sensed some upset,” she said.

  “We intruded on Guildmaster Telurinon’s meeting,” Sarai explained.

  “Oh.” The witch glanced at the door to the workroom. “That’s unfortunate,” she said. “Telurinon can be very difficult.” She hesitated, then asked, “Have you had breakfast, either of you?”

  “No,” Lady Sarai admitted. “At least, I haven’t. Have all of y
ou?”

  “Yes, but don’t let that trouble you.” Karanissa trotted quickly down the stairs and led the way to the kitchens, where she found biscuits, jam, and a variety of fruit for Sarai and Kelder.

  Teneria and Alorria joined them there, and the five sat comfortably chatting for some time.

  They were still there, though the food was long gone, when Telurinon marched in and informed them all that they were no longer welcome in the Guildhouse.

  “It’s nothing personal,” he said, after the initial shock had passed. “The incident this morning demonstrated, however, that it’s a serious mistake to allow anyone not a member of the Guild to be in the building when we have such important and secret matters to discuss as we do at present.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sarai protested. “We had an...”

  “Lady Sarai,” Telurinon retorted, cutting her short, “or rather, Sarai of Ethshar, we had an agreement to share information relevant to your investigation of a series of murders. Well, that investigation is over now—the identity of the killer is known, her whereabouts are known, and the question is not who is responsible, but how to punish her, which is purely a Guild matter and none of the concern of the city government. And furthermore, you, along with your overlord, have been removed from office. We have no more information to share with you.”

  “But...”

  “And even if that were not the case,” Telurinon continued, “we never invited you to wander into our councils whenever you chose. There are times when we wish to discuss matters that we never agreed to share with you or anyone else outside the Guild, matters that it is absolutely forbidden for anyone outside the Guild to know.” He turned to the others. “I expect that your husband will find a comfortable inn for you all, Alorria and Karanissa—the Cap and Dagger, perhaps. Or if you prefer, I’m sure some other member of the Guild will be glad to accommodate you.”

  For a moment no one spoke; then Telurinon turned to go. Alorria stuck her tongue out at his departing figure, and Sarai, despite herself, giggled.

  When the mage had gone, the giggle vanished.

  “Now what will I do?” she asked.

  Chapter Thirty