necromancer. By himself, he was completely inconsequential. A spring of self-loathing erupted within the king’s hard breast, and he frantically searched for someone on which to turn the focus of his contempt.
“Sir.” His ruminations were interrupted by a captain coming from behind. “We’ve concluded that there was an outside party. A window in the Queen’s bedroom was broken.” The old sovereign’s lips tightened. His wife had been gone for ages, and her former quarters were now not much more than a dilapidated storage area, but the notion of someone disturbing them only increased Serberos’ ire.
“Is that all?” he demanded.
“No, sir. The hole was pretty small. Too small to fit a man’s hand.” Serberos’ eyes gleamed.
“A child?” he mused. “Interesting.”
The officer could hardly believe what he’d just heard. Did the king of Volikar really think a kid had weathered the snowstorm, scaled the wall, and managed to disappear without very much of a trace? There may be no hope for a nation ruled by a man like this. He coughed, concealing his opinions behind a placid, subservient mask. “Actually, Your Majesty, we believe it was a woman.”
“Don’t be a fool,” muttered the king. “A woman is capable of devious thoughts, but not actions.”
“With all due respect, my liege,” said the captain, “I must strongly advise that a woman committed this grave injustice against your kingdom.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “Should the culprit turn out to be a minor, you will not be able to prosecute without facing enormous backlash from the other regions.” Serberos scowled, and the captain pressed on without allowing him to answer. “A war would be astronomically ill-conceived at this time.”
“What if we kept it a secret?” Even as the king suggested this, he understood it was out of the question. It was only a matter of time before the rumor mill started up; soon, the truth would be widespread, disguised as hearsay. The King of Volikar, crippled by a thief! I heard it was a woman. I heard she was never found. It was enough to blind him with fury.
“Your necromancer is not a secret, sir. If you want the help of your allies, you will have to tell them what happened.” All of Serberos’ ranking officers were masters of patience, and this one was no exception. He stood perfectly upright, hands clasped behind his back, regarding his leader with a look of knowing resignation. The king had become notoriously difficult in his old age, and many in the company were taking bets on the hour of his death. Gradually, the vicelike grip of fear he had exacted upon his subordinates was lessening as his mind weakened. He was only a threat to the uninitiated and uninformed.
No one told him this, of course. So long as King Serberos was moderately content, he did not throw the legendary fits for which he had been known in the past. The onset of senility had made him sedate, and he had taken to exercising the majority of his power through the living puppet that was his necromancer. Without that tall, imposing figure at his disposal, it was like the king had lost an arm. His presence was weak, his commands lacking. The captain sensed that all of this was known to Serberos, and that there would be every effort to recapture the glory he had lost. Perhaps, the soldier thought, this will be his last.
“You’re convinced it was a woman?” Serberos said gruffly. The captain snapped immediately back to attention.
“Yes, sir.”
“There is no doubt in your mind? Then find her. Bring her to me. If she is so enamored of the boy, there’s no reason she can’t stay with him forever.”
A quick, slightly cruel smile quirked the officer’s lip. “Romance, Your Majesty? I like it.”
---
The hours