Whitman nodded to the men as he stepped through the doorway. A huge, wooden table dominated the inside of the room. Mage-lit stones sat in sconces on either end and in the middle, filling the chamber with cold, bluish-white light. The door closed behind him with a tremendous clang, and Whitman stepped down from the entrance to the middle of the room.
Besides the table, the chairs, and the sconces, there was nothing else in the room, except four huge metal doors-three that led out to the corridor where Whitman had just come from, and another on the opposite side of the room. That door swung open, smooth and silent, and out stepped a woman, a tight purple robe adorning her body, a veil over her face.
She stepped down into the room, the only noise of her passage the light brushing of her hem against the stone floor.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, taking a seat at the far end.
"We have to talk," replied Whitman.
"You compromise yourself by coming."
"I'm aware of the consequences," replied Whitman. "But the situation is growing dire. We're running out of time."
The Matron tapped her fingers against the wood table. "This is why you came to me?"
"Matron, we are gambling with the lives of everyone in Erlkazar. We must turn over Princess Mariko, and we must do it now."
The Matron stood. "I am aware of the situation, Whitman. But I disagree with your assessment."
"Then you are blinded by your greed. We are risking too much. The stakes have gotten too high."
"You're overreacting."
"You saw what happened to the soldiers the king sent out to negotiate with the Obsidian Ridge."
"I know what happened."
"Are you prepared to let that happen to all of us? Never mind the Elixir business. Are you willing to lose every one of your followers? Every one of your associates? Every customer in the kingdom?"
"There are risks with every venture," replied the Matron. "But there are rewards too."
"What reward? What is all of this worth to us?"
The Matron took a deep breath. "Freedom," she replied. "The freedom to run our trade the way we want to, without the meddling of the monarchy." She thought for a moment. "And for control. The right to control our own destinies and marketplace without interference."
"You risk all of this for a little bit of freedom? For the ability to run our business without the fear of reprisal?"
"Don't be so shortsighted." The Matron slammed her fist against the table. "Some of the largest conflicts in the history of this world have been over freedom. What we're talking about here-it's not just about a little more breathing room, or even about greed. It's about the future. It's about establishing a foothold here in Erlkazar, where we cannot only run our businesses, but also decide what rules we live by. Us. Ourselves. Not some silver-spoon-fed monarch who did nothing more to earn the right to govern than be born."
The Matron came around the table. "But I tire of this argument. It seems I say the same thing every single day, and each time I do, my conviction for our course of action just grows stronger." She stopped when she reached the opposite end. "Is there something useful you can tell me?"
"There is one thing." Whitman paused, pondering his next words.
"Well?" she said. "Don't keep me waiting."
"Senator Divian has been bending the king's ear about some sort of plan she has to fight the Obsidian Ridge."
The Matron perked up. "Tell me more."
"She wants the king to try to unite all of the kingdom's spellcasters, a convocation of mages, in an effort to counter Arch Magus Xeries."
"I see." The Matron rubbed her chin.
"The king is rightfully nervous about Xeries's magical power."
"Does he think the senator's plan has merit?"
"He's not sure there are enough wizards in Erlkazar to match the power of the Obsidian Ridge, but considering the alternatives, it's the best plan he feels he's got at the moment."
"He's right. There probably aren't enough lawful spell-casters in Erlkazar."
"I'm sure that's why he's worried."
"This might prove useful," she said. "Tell the king that I can give him everything he wants-his kingdom and his daughter, both safe and sound. But there will be accost." She rubbed her hands together as she turned and walked back toward her study. "Tell him to turn over the Claw-to me. In return, he will get his daughter back, and we will help him fight the Obsidian Ridge. An alliance between the underworld and the throne." She smiled. "Tell him he'll have all the mages he needs."
Whitman laughed. "You know I can't just march back into the palace and give the king a message from you."
"Not looking like that you can't." The Matron shook her finger in the air.
The door from the outside corridor screeched open, and the four guards stepped inside.
"But when they're finished with you, you'll look the part."
Whitman got to his feet and started to back away from the guards. "What's the meaning of this?"
The Matron laughed. "Tell the king you were taken, beaten, and returned with a message. He'll believe you."
Whitman skirted around the table, pulling out chairs and tossing them behind him in an effort to get away. But he was too slow, and the guards seized him easily. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, as they lifted him onto the table. "You can't do this to me!"
The Matron stopped when she reached the open door to her study and looked down on Whitman, held as he was against the table.
"And next time you feel the urge to come here, against my will, perhaps you will remember today and think twice." With a wave of her hand, the huge metal door swung closed, latching quietly.
Whitman struggled for a moment longer, then stopped, looking up at the ceiling, away from his tormentors. The first blow landed against his ribs, sending a flash of pain shooting up his side and across his body. The second, on his cheek, knocking loose a tooth and filling his mouth with blood.
Having control of nothing else, Whitman decided to close his eyes. The damage was going to be done, whether he watched it or not.
"And what of the evacuation plans?" King Korox leafed through a pile of reports and correspondence. "Any progress?"
The messenger who had delivered them stood at attention. "Those who would leave their homes are on the way south to Five Spears Hold."
"Unguarded?" The king raised his voice. "The northern corner of Tanistan is crawling with goblins and bandits. Little good the move will do them if they lose their lives in the process."
A heavy gauntleted hand landed on the messenger's shoulder. "A unit of the regular army was sent along as an escort," said Captain Kaden, arriving in the Magistrates' barracks. "They will arrive safely. The trouble is we have to be prepared to defend Klarsamryn. We can't afford to spare more than one unit as escorts, so we're only able to move a small group of people every few days." He turned to the young messenger. "You may go. I'll take it from here."
The messenger bowed, looking more than a little relieved. "Thank you, sir." He exited the barracks.
"At this rate it'll take us all year to get everyone to safety," said the king.
"Unless we completely abandon the city in a full-scale evacuation, then I'm afraid you're right."
The king shook his head. "If we did that, there would be no way to cover our tracks. Xeries could simply follow us. Then we'd be at his mercy and away from our homes. No, if it's going to work, it has to be done quietly." He stopped, thinking for a moment. "And what of the court mages? Have they discovered anything?"
Kaden shook his head. "They've been working-through the night, but I'm afraid there aren't enough of them to counteract the powerful wards of the Obsidian Ridge. So far, they've found nothing, my lord. At least nothing more than Senator Divian was able to discern."