The Floodgate

"Even then," he said in an anguished whisper.

The king nodded slowly. "Well, perhaps you have a chance at success. You have twenty days."

Zalathorm turned and strode swiftly away, no longer able to meet the young man's burning eyes. He understood all too well the pain written there.

Keturah's daughter. He closed his eyes and brought to mind the image of the girl with the shorn brown locks and impish grin whom he had seen at Basel Indoulur's side. It was she who had brought the magic mouth device into the queen's workroom, thus getting the evidence that would condemn her own mother for treason. Would she have done this, had she known? Or would she cling to principle as firmly as did Matteo?

With a sigh, Zalathorm made his way down a hidden stairwell into the deepest and most secret part of the palace. As he walked, he cast a powerful magical disguise over himself. He never approached this hidden chamber without this disguise, though it had been many years since he'd worn this face outside the palace. The lines of necromancers who stood like sentries outside the door knew him only by his assumed face and nodded to him as he passed.

Zalathorm shut and warded the door, then turned to the enormous gem that floated precisely in the center of the room. It was vaguely star-shaped, redder than garnet, with hundreds of smooth, glittering sides. Light pulsed within its heart.

The king bowed his head before the sentient gem, more in apology than supplication, and whispered, "The Heart of Halruaa seeks your counsel."