“My lord, another servant from Her Majesty,” the maid reported, curtseying in the doorway.
Mayor Challan looked up from his writing table and sighed. He had already received three of the queen’s servants that day, all regarding the necessary preparations the people of Te’Roek would have to make in the coming weeks. In the event of an emergency, such as the city being under siege, temporary warehouses were being constructed away from the outer wall to provide shelter for those ordered to evacuate their houses. From conversations with General Kaster and some of his senior captains, Mayor Challan understood that the enemy would attempt to block off supply routes and then launch flaming projectiles over the wall to cause chaos and destruction. With the citizens cleared from the areas closest to the outer wall, the casualties would be minimal. The only problem remaining was how to stock enough food to supply a city for an indefinite length of time should the Ayons be successful in establishing the blockade. The letters between Challan and the queen had addressed the problem of where to store and distribute the rations. The queen thought the market district would be best but Mayor Challan was not confident of the area’s security. The mayor had been stuck at his table for the better part of the day and his back ached.
The maid cleared her throat and Challan flinched, suddenly remembering she was there.
“What, Mary?”
“The queen has sent another messenger, sir.”
“Oh, right. Yes. Show him in, then,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his hand.
She did so and returned a moment later with a tall, smartly dressed man. Mayor Challan rose from his chair to meet the man he had already received twice that day. They exchanged a mutual glance of weariness before Challan extended his hand for the message. He broke the dark blue wax and ran his eyes quickly over the words.
“Ah,” he said, reaching the end of the letter. “You may inform Her Majesty that the reformed suggestions are met with wholehearted support and that I look forward to discussing the final arrangements at her convenience.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“On your way out, head down to the kitchens and ask my housekeeper for some firewater or ale, if you prefer.”
“That is very generous of you, sir, but not while I’m working,” he said, bowing low.
Mayor Challan chuckled. “If I kept that rule, I’d never get a drink at all!” He reached out and shook the man’s hand heartily, glad that the day’s political exchange was finally over. It was starting to darken outside and he could not remember whether he had had his midday meal or not.
When the messenger had gone, he collapsed into the comfortable armchair before the fire, closed his eyes and listened to the movements of his servants through the house. He heard the light patter of the maid passing his door and then the heavier step of his housekeeper as she walked across the foyer on the floor below. The sounds of the city beyond his windows had quietened considerably but he knew it would liven up again when the regulars made their way to the taverns.
There was a shockingly loud crack behind him. He flung open his eyes and leaped out of his chair, his weariness gone in an instant. His sight was impeded by what appeared to be smoke and two shadowed men stood in the thickest part of it behind his chair. As it began to dissipate, the men approached him and he felt his fear grow steadily more acute.
“Who – who are you people?” he asked, his voice shaking. “I demand to know why you are in my private quarters without announcement!”
“So sorry to have caused you any distress, sir,” the taller man said, moving into a shaft of late-afternoon light.
Mayor Challan looked up at the trespasser, not recognizing him. His face was pale and slightly gaunt about the cheeks but there was a fierceness in his eyes that Challan did not wish to provoke. He was lean and dressed in dark, decorative robes, not at all like a common thug. The stranger’s companion was older; his hair and attire suggested that he was an aristocrat of some kind. His coat was intricately designed with yellow and red embroidery and his gray hair was neat.
The robed man approached Challan, staring down his thin nose, his face etched with malice. Challan opened his mouth to shout at the top of his lungs, hoping beyond hope that the sounds of the streets below would not drown out his cries. But no sooner had his lips parted, he felt his throat constrict and block, reducing his voice to the quietest of moans and then silence.
“Don’t try that again,” the tall man said, his fingers pointing at Challan’s neck.
The mayor clawed at the invisible bonds frantically as his lungs burned with pain. The stranger drew closer still.
“You have only a few seconds left. Will you keep that tongue of yours silent?”
Challan nodded. The cold eyes of his attacker fixed on him for a moment and then air burst into his lungs. Challan dropped to his knees, drawing in deep, gasping breaths. For a few moments, he only thought of breathing, of feeling his life running freely through his veins, but when he raised his eyes a little, he saw the heavy boots of the mage who had choked him, and fear quickly returned.
“Get up,” the stranger said, grasping a handful of Challan’s shirt. Challan felt himself dragged to his feet and roughly released. “I assume you realize now why we are here.”
“I-I’m afraid I’m still ignorant,” the mayor said, his voice emerging in little more than a whimper. He glanced involuntarily toward the door, hoping his servants had heard something and were now hastening to his aid.
“They won’t be coming,” the tall man said.
“H-have you killed them?”
“Would you care if we had?”
Challan swallowed. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you members of some gang? I can give you money, if that’s what you want! Lots of it!”
“We do not want pfenns,” the stranger said dismissively. “We want you and you will come with us – now.”
“Where?”
“That, you do not need to know,” the tall man said, grabbing Challan’s upper arm and drawing him close. Then he turned to his companion. “Ah, you have not had the pleasure of visiting my home either. I hope this first time will be as enjoyable for you as it will be for me.”
The older man took hold of Challan’s other arm, then grasped his companion tightly on the shoulder.
“Ready?” the tall man asked. The other nodded.
The room disappeared in a sudden burst of dark smoke and a loud crack. Challan screamed as he felt his feet leave the rug. For a frightening few seconds, he was falling, engulfed in a whirlwind. His robes billowed wildly about him and he felt the grips on his arms tighten. The smoke veiled his sight and so it came as a shock when his feet crashed onto the hard surface of a stone floor a moment later. His arms were suddenly released and he stumbled forward. Looking up, he discovered he was in a crumbling, overgrown courtyard and the sun was not as low in the sky. His stomach lurched uncontrollably and he vomited. Sprawled on the floor, he realized that he must have had a midday meal after all.