They came to Circle Street, then to the colorful pavement forming a ring around the palace; they marched directly across, past the final line of stalls owned by elite and fortunate merchants. The palace itself stood before them now, the dome hidden by the wall and the eaves. Tolthar had never been here before; even during his days in the guard, he had never drawn duty in the palace. He had never been closer than Circle Street.
Somewhere behind that wall lived old Ederd IV himself, overlord of Ethshar of the Sands, master of the fates of over a million men, women, and children-one of the three most powerful mortals in the World. And Lord Kalthon, Ederd's Minister of Justice, would be there, who could have a man flogged, hanged, beheaded, exiled, or sold on a moment's notice. Lord Torrut, commander of the guard, was in there, as well-and his slightest word could send ten thousand men out to fight, kill, and die.
Tolthar did not particularly care to join them.
He had no choice, though; when he hesitated on the threshold of the little side door the soldiers heaved him through without even slowing.
The floors inside were stone-not rough slate or flagstone, tike an inn's hearth, but polished granite and marble. Tolthar had never seen such floors.
The walls, too, were stone-some of them, anyway; others were paneled in wood, or hidden by drapes or tapestries. He could see them through the archways and open doors as he was hurried through what seemed like an endless maze of antechambers and corridors.
At last his escort stopped at the door of a small chamber with bare walls of pale gray stone; in the center of the room stood a large desk, with wood-and-brown-velvet chairs behind and before. Papers, scrolls, and ledgers were spread across the desk and stacked on the floor.
Two people were in the room: a tall young woman with thick brown hair and a large man in the uniform of a guard captain. They were standing by the desk, arguing. At the sound of arriving footsteps they stopped and turned toward the doorway.
"Captain Tikri," one of the guardsmen said, "this is Tolthar of Smallgate."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," the man in the captain's uniform said. "Bring him in."
Deran and the lieutenant brought Tolthar into the little office, while the third man returned to the corridor.
The woman was wearing clothes of fine gold linen, and Tolthar might have guessed that she was a noblewoman of some son, but he was still startled when Tikri addressed her as Lady Sarai.
"Which magician shall I send for, Lady Sarai?" he asked.
"More than one," the young woman replied. "I don't want any doubt about this. Teneria, certainly, and Mereth, if you can find her, and Okko, and I suppose you should get that Tobas and his witch wife back here, and anyone else you think we might want." As an afterthought, she added, "Not the pregnant wife, though-she's not a magician."
"This may not have anything to do with the case, remember," Tikri reminded her. "And we have half a dozen other chances, if this one doesn't work out."
"I know that," Lady Sarai snapped. "But this man is here, now, and he's one of the more promising possibilities." She turned to the guards. "Sit him down," she ordered.
Abruptly, Tolthar found himself seated, on the chair in front of the desk. He stared up silently at the woman. "Do you know who I am?" Lady Sarai demanded. Tolthar blinked and didn't answer.
"He's drunk," Deran remarked. "We dragged him out of a tavern in Northangle."
Lady Sarai nodded. Tolthar didn't bother to argue, although he didn't feel very drunk anymore.
A messenger appeared in the doorway. "You wanted me, Captain?" she asked.
"Yes," Tikri said. He crossed the room quickly. "You go ahead, Lady Sarai." He stepped out into the corridor to give the messenger her instructions.
"Close the door, Lieutenant," Lady Sarai directed. "Let's have some privacy."
Senden obeyed. Lady Sarai stepped up close to the seated Tolthar and stared down at him. "You're drunk?" she asked.
"A little," he admitted. He was beginning to recover his nerve.
"That might be just as well. Do you know who I am?"
"They call you Lady Sarai," Tolthar said. "I can still hear."
"That's my name; you know who I am?"
"Lord Kalthon's daughter," Tolthar answered. Lady Sarai's face hardened. "I am Lady Sarai, Minister of Investigation and Acting Minister of Justice to Ederd the Fourth, Overlord of Ethshar of the Sands, Triumvir of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, Commander of the Holy Armies and Defender of the Gods, and I am speaking to you now in the performance of my duties and with the full authority of the overlord. Do you understand that?"
"Uh…" Tolthar hesitated, then said, "I'm not sure."
"That means that I can have you flogged, or tortured, or killed, right here and now, without having to worry about appeals or consequences. And I'll do it if you don't cooperate."
Tolthar stared up at her. He did not see Deran and Senden exchange doubtful glances behind him.
"Now," Lady Sarai said, "I understand that on or about the fourth day of the month of Summerheat, you received two knife wounds in your left leg. Is that correct?"
"Yes, my lady," Tolthar replied softly, thoroughly cowed.
"These were both inflicted with the same knife, at approximately the same time?"
"Yes."
"And that knife was used by a woman?"
"That's right," Tolthar admitted.
"How tall was she?"
"Uh… if you want…" Did they think he didn't know who had stabbed him?
"How tall was she?" Sarai shouted, leaning closer.
"She's short," he said quickly. "I mean, not tiny, but she's… she's pretty short."
"What was she wearing? What color?"
"Black," Tolthar said, "she usually wears black."
"What's the shape of her face like?"
Baffled, Tolthar wondered why Lady Sarai didn't just ask for Tabaea's name. He said, "I don't know…"
"Did you see her face?"
"Well, yes.
"What shape is it? "
"Let me think for a minute!"
Sarai backed away from him slightly, giving him room to breathe. "Take your time," she said.
"Thank you, my lady," Tolthar said, resentfully. He tried to picture Tabaea's face. "Sort of straight," he said, "and wide. She has a square chin, almost."
"Along nose?"
"No, it's more wide."
"Brown hair?"
"I think it's black…"
"Green eyes?"
"I didn't notice, I thought they were brown…"
"Dark skin?"
"No, she's pale…"
"Full-bodied?"
"Skinny as a steer in Srigmor."
"Clumsy?"
"If she were clumsy, do you think I'd have let her get me with the knife?" Tolthar protested angrily. "I wasn't that drunk!"
The door opened, and Lady Sarai paused in her questioning. She looked up as a thin, black-haired girl entered.
For a moment, Tolthar thought it was Tabaea herself, and he began to imagine elaborate schemes to blame him for some crime he had not committed, to punish him for making false accusations; then he saw that this person wasn't Tabaea, that she was taller and generally thinner, though perhaps fuller in the chest. And the new arrival had a long, narrow face that was not like Tabaea's at all.
"Teneria," Lady Sarai said, "we think this man may have survived an attack by the killer. We want you to check his wounds, if you can, to see if the same knife was used."
"I'll try," the woman Lady Sarai had called Teneria said quietly.