“Usually, nothing,” the Minister of Justice replied. “Like the Lord Executioner. But if there’s ever anything that needs to be studied and explained, something where we can’t just ask Okko or some other magician, it would be your job to study it and then explain it to the rest of us.”
Sarai frowned. “But I can’t know everything,” she said.
“Of course not,” her father agreed. “But you can learn as much as you can. The overlord doesn’t expect his officers to be perfect.”
Sarai, remembering what she had heard of Ederd IV, overlord of Ethshar of the Sands, wasn’t any too sure of that. “What would I do when I can’t...”
“You would do the best you can,” her father interrupted. “Like any of the city’s officials.” “I’d need help sometimes,” Sarai said. “You’d be given the authority to call on the guard for help— I’ll ask Lord Torrut to assign you a regular assistant. And you could hire others.”
“Father, if we need someone to figure out these things, why hasn’t anyone already been given the job?”
Lord Kalthon smiled wryly. “Because we never thought of it. We’ve always improvised, done it all new every time.” “Have you talked to the overlord yet?”
“No,” Lord Kalthon admitted. “I wanted to see whether you wanted the job first.”
“I don’t know,” Sarai admitted.
There they left the matter for a sixnight; then one evening Lord Kalthon mentioned, “I spoke to the overlord today.”
“Oh?” Sarai asked, nervously.
Her father nodded. “He wants you to be his investigator, as I suggested. And I think he’d like the job to include more than I originally intended—he was talking about gathering information from other lands, as well, to help him keep up with events. He doesn’t like surprises, you know; he wasn’t at all happy that he had no warning about the rise of the Empire of Vond, in the Small Kingdoms, two years ago.”
“But I don’t know anything about...” Sarai began.
“You could learn,” Kalthon replied.
“I don’t know,” Sarai said. “I don’t like it. I need time to think about it.”
“So think about it,” her father answered.
In truth, she found the idea of being paid to study foreign lands fascinating—but the responsibilities and the fact that she would be reporting to the overlord himself were frightening.
Still, a sixnight later, she agreed to take the job.
CHAPTER 5
“We’ll go on to the next step tomorrow,” the wizard said, putting the dagger aside. The apprentice nodded, and Tabaea, watching from the landing, got quickly and silently to her feet and padded swiftly up the stairs. Her candle had gone out, and she dared not light another, so she moved by feel and memory. She knew she had to be out of the house before the two came upstairs and found her, so she wasted no time in the thefts she had originally planned. Her sack still hung empty at her belt as she made her way back through the workshop, the hallway, and the parlor.
It was in the parlor that she stumbled over something in the dark and almost fell. Light glinted from the hallway; the wizard and his apprentice were in the workroom. Frightened, Tabaea dropped to her knees and crept on all fours through the dining salon, and finally out to the mudroom. There she got to her feet and escaped into the darkness of the alley beyond.
It was later than she had realized; most of the torches and lanterns over the doors had been allowed to burn out for the night, and Grandgate Market’s glow and murmur had faded to almost nothing. Grand Street was empty.
She hesitated. She had come down to Grandgate Market in unfulfilled hopes of filching a few choice items from the buyers and sellers there; the wizard’s house had caught her eye as she passed on her way to the square, and she had turned down the alley on her way home. All she should do now was to go on the rest of the way, north and west, back to her family’s house in Northangle. But it was so very dark in that direction, and the streets of Ethshar weren’t safe at night. There were robbers and slavers and, she thought with a glance eastward at Wizard Street, quite possibly other, less natural, dangers. But what choice did she have?
Life didn’t give her very many choices, she thought bitterly. It was no more than a mile to her home, and most of it would be along two major avenues, Grand Street and Midway Street; it would only be the last two blocks that would take her into the real depths of the city. One of those blocks was along Wall Street, beside Wall Street Field, where all the thieves and beggars lived. That was not safe at night. But what choice did she have?
She shuddered and set out on her way, thinking as she walked how pleasant it would be to be a wizard, and to be able to go fearlessly wherever one pleased, always knowing that magic protected one. Or to be rich or powerful and have guards—but that had its drawbacks, of course; the guards would find out your secrets, would always know where you had been, and when.
No, magic was better. If she were a wizard, like the one whose house she had been in...
She frowned. Would he know someone had been in the house? She hadn’t taken anything, hadn’t even broken anything—the lock on the alley door had a few scratches, and a few things might be out of place, but she hadn’t taken anything, and really, it had been that weird little green creature that had disturbed the papers and so forth.
Even if the wizard knew she had been there, he probably wouldn’t bother to do anything about it.
As long, that is, as he didn’t realize she’d been spying on him while he taught his apprentice about the athame thing. That was obviously a deep, dark Wizards’ Guild secret; if anyone found out she had heard so much about it she was probably as good as dead.
Which meant that so far, no one had found out. And even with his magic, how could the wizard find out? She hadn’t left any evidence, and he wouldn’t know what questions to ask.
She wished she had heard even more, of course; she had heard a little about what an athame could do and the instructions for preparing to perform the ritual to work the spell to create an athame, but not much more than that. It was obviously a long, complicated procedure to make an athame, and she didn’t really know just what one was.
It had to be a magic knife of some kind, obviously a powerful and important one, but beyond that she really wasn’t very clear on what it was for. The wizard had described several side effects, little extras, but she’d come in too late to hear the more basic parts.
If she had one with her, though, she was sure she would feel much, much safer on Wall Street. It was a shame she hadn’t heard all of the instructions for making one. She had only heard the beginning. To get the rest she would have to go back the next night.
She stopped abruptly and stood motionless for a long moment, there in the middle of Grand Street, about four blocks west of Wizard Street. The new-risen lesser moon glowed pink above her, tinting the shadows, while a few late torches and lit windows spilled a brighter light across her path, but nothing moved, and the night was eerily silent.
If she went back the next night, she could hear the rest.
And if she learned the procedure, or ceremony, or spell, or whatever it was, she could make herself an athame.
And why not go back?
Oh, certainly there was some risk involved; she might be spotted at any time. But the reward would be worth the risk, wouldn’t it?
She threw a glance back over her shoulder, then started running onward, back toward home.
She made it without incident, other than dodging around drunkards and cripples on Wall Street and briefly glimpsing a party of slavers in the distance, their nets held loose and ready.
She got home safely. And all the way, she was planning.
And the next night, when darkness had fallen, she again crept into the alley behind the wizard’s house,
