Arriving at the palace, Guildmaster Forterran made it a point to emerge from his carriage smoothly, then settled his robes and chains about him with a twitch.There was no show of weakness this time, no struggling out of a sedan chair.Now was the time for the Guildmaster of the Mage Guild to radiate power and authority.
He’d chosen his robes as carefully as ever: crimson this time, complete with matching hat and feather, the fabric worked with silver stars.A pulse of his power, fueled by his anger, made the cloth glimmer, a trick he had learned from his mother.
He hoped the Queen choked on her envy.
“Guildmaster Forterran, be welcome.”The courtier bowed low.“I am instructed to bring you unto the presence of their majesties for your audience.”
“My thanks.”Forterran nodded to the lad.He strode forward, not waiting for the courtier, heading through the doors of the Palace.
The courtier scurried to catch up.“Make way,” he called out from behind.“Make way for Forterran, Guildmaster of the Mage Guild.”
Forterran refrained from rolling his eyes.As if they couldn’t see him coming, couldn’t feel the power he was making sure to radiate.This time, he was not a supplicant and he wanted that clearly known.
He’d come for what was his.
The crowd of courtiers was thick, but the path before him cleared.His escort managed to get in front of him, but he coursed close at the man’s heels, wanting the escort to feel his breath on his sweaty neck.
Fear and uncertainty hovered in the air, along with a dire sense of curiosity.Good.Forterran kept his eyes on his path, didn’t acknowledge anyone, not even the occasional nod of recognition.None of the polite gestures that eased tensions.
Let them stew.
The courtier paused before the throne room doors, almost out of breath, a trace of sweat trickling down his temple.
Forterran raised an eyebrow, waiting.
The courtier hastily bowed low and the guards opened the double doors.Forterran sailed through, not even pausing as he marched toward the thrones.
Behind him, the Royal Herald struck his staff on the floor.The sound of oak striking ancient stone rolled through the room, bringing complete silence in its wake.“Your Majesties, Guildmaster Forterran, Guildmaster of the Mage Guild.”
Forterran kept moving, locking eyes with first the King and then the Queen.Quite the crowd had gathered here, though clustered to the sides.Noble lords and ladies, councilors, a fair number of crafters and tradesmen.A large number of guards as well, including Lord Marshal Tarwain.
The King and Queen were dressed in mourning black, as was the entire court.Bless their tiny, deceitful souls.
King Xyrath was seated on the edge of his throne, as still as Forterran had ever seen the man.His eyes were bright, and was that a trace of fear in their depths?
Queen Satia stared at Forterran, eyes glittering as she took in his finery.There was no fear in those dark eyes, of course.Behind her were her entourage, Bondmaidens all dressed identically, all tense and watchful, all with their hands in their skirts, no doubt clutching their sharp knives.Only four of them.The fifth was still missing, still a mystery.
Well, that little puzzle would have to wait.
Forterran stopped an appropriate distance from the throne platform and nodded his head in a less than appropriate bow.“Your majesties.”
“Guildmaster,” Xyrath said as he returned the nod, “thank you for coming so promptly.”He glanced at Satia.“We regret to inform you that—”
“Just now?It’s been how long?”Forterran interrupted.“You thought I would not know?”
One did not interrupt a King.The room went silent at Forterran’s audacity, breaths being held all around in anticipation of the royal wrath.
“All this time, no official word, no messages to the Guild.”Forterran observed, letting his gaze drift over the crowd.He looked back at Satia.“I have come for Ritathan’s chains.”Forterran continued.“And to discuss the breach of the Guild contract.”
Xyrath turned an interesting shade of red, shifting on the throne.Satia put her hand out and laid it on the King’s wrist.
“You cannot mean to imply—” Satia started, but ganders and geese fry in the same sauce.Forterran interrupted again.
“I make no accusations.”he said mildly.“I merely observe.I observe the untimely death of a chained-mage under contract to the Royal Court of Xy.”
Satia didn’t flush or darken, but there was cool rage building in her eyes.
“There was no body,” Xyrath blurted out.His shock and disgust seemed real as he glanced at the Queen with what seemed to be apprehension.“Just this tremendous stinking pile of goo that melted into the carpet.”
