recoiled in fear.
'I have very little time for this,' said Korox. His head hurt and he rubbed his temples. 'So I'm going to ask you some simple questions, and you're going to answer them.' He looked right at Genevie, his tone threatening, his words sincere. 'Do you understand?'
The handmaiden nodded.
'Good. Then we will start.' The king paused, looking for the right way to phrase his first question. 'How many mages can you gather before nightfall?'
The half-elf woman looked puzzled. 'I don't… I can't gather any.'
The king slammed his fist into a wooden shelf, shattering it and sending the pieces dropping to the floor. 'I don't have time for your games. I know you're the Matron, and I'm willing to make a deal with you. That is what you offered, isn't it? That was what you sent Whitman here to tell me. That you wanted some sort of an alliance? So name your price. What is it you want to release my daughter and help me defeat Xeries?'
'My lord, please forgive me, but I am not the Matron. I don't know any mages or about any deal, and I do not know where Princess Mariko is.' She stood in the corner, looking at the king with wide, wild eyes.
'Damn you!' he shouted, pointing at her with one thick finger. 'I will have no more of this! You will deal with me now, or you will die.'
'I told you,' Genevie sobbed, terror on her face, 'I have no mages. I don't know where the princess is.'
There was commotion behind the king. It sounded as if the guards were holding back someone who wanted to get into the closet.
'Let me pass!' came a voice. 'The king is making a terrible mistake.'
Korox stopped shouting and lowered his finger. 'Vasser? Is that Vasser?'
'Yes, my lord,' came the voice. Then, 'You see. I told you the king would want to see me.'
The guards stepped aside and into the closet came Vasser. He lifted his very large hat from the top of his head, and swung it out before him as he gave the king an elaborate bow.
'Before you get carried away, my king, allow me to tell you what I know.'
Korox nodded.
Placing his hat under his arm, Vasser slipped past the king and stood beside the half-elf woman. 'I have been following the princess's handmaiden-among others-for some time. Three days ago, however, she managed to give me the slip, and I've been looking for her on your instruction ever since. This morning I discovered that she has been in the south, purchasing medicinal herbs to give to her grandson.' Vasser looked down on the terrified half-elf, her cheek swollen from where the king struck her. 'He has a rare disease that will require a very expensive spell to cure. In the meantime, Genevie has been getting a copper weed poultice from a druid in Duhlnarim, to soothe her grandson's symptoms while she collects the coin to pay for the spell.'
'So you're telling me that her disappearance was a complete coincidence? That it had nothing to do with the princess's kidnapping?'
Vasser nodded. 'That is what I am telling you.'
'She…' The reality of the situation hit King Korox, and a heavy pang of guilt set in. 'You're telling me she's innocent?'
'Not entirely,' said Vasser. 'She is guilty of stealing candlesticks and bits of silverware from the princess's chamber.'
'I was going to repay her. As… as soon as I had the coin.' Genevie held her face in her hands. 'I'm so sorry, my lord. I'm… I'm ashamed of what I have done, and I should be punished.'
The king was completely deflated. 'I am the one who should be ashamed.' He dropped to his knees in front of the handmaiden. 'You're not the Matron, are you?'
Genevie shook her head. 'No.'
'Your only crime is that you tried to help your sick grandson.'
The half-elf nodded, not looking at him.
The king tried to take her hand, but Genevie flinched away.
Korox's heart sank. He had never done anything so vile as this before. He had never acted in a manner so unbefitting a king. He no longer felt as if he deserved all of his riches and power. If Bane were to appear before him and demand that he turn over all that he had, he would do it right now, without complaint. Nothing he could ever do, no matter how much good it would bring, could possibly make up for the thrashing and accusation he laid on this poor woman today.
He pulled his hand away from the half-elf. 'I know that what I have done to you is wrong. And I am certain that my apology does not excuse me for my behavior. Nor, I suspect, will it make you feel any better.' He paused. 'But I give you my apology all the same.'
Getting to his feet, the king stepped out into the hall. 'Get her a healer, right away. And send a message to the temple of Ilmater,' he said to the wizard who had been summoned to ward the room against magic. 'Have them send a high priest to cure Genevie's grandson. Whatever it costs, no matter the expense, I will pay for it personally.' He glanced back into the lightless chamber Vasser was helping the old half-elf get to her feet. 'And I want her to have a bodyguard. For the rest of her days. No one will ever be allowed to lay a hand on her in anger, ever again.'
Chapter Eighteen
The Claw sneezed. The dust in the room was making his nose itch, and he scratched it with his shoulder, rubbing the tough cloth up under his mask. The blades on his gauntlets made some of the simple things quite a bit more difficult, but it was something he'd learned to live with.
There were three passages left in the crossroads after the hallway collapsed. The silver needle pointed to one on the Claw's fight. Eager to get out of the dust cloud, he turned and followed the compass.
The passage emptied into a much larger room. A series of large stone pillars, each the same distance from the next, dominated the space-all of them radiated out in circles from the center of the chamber. There was a crack in the ceiling, out of which a purplish glow emanated.
As he walked deeper into the room, the silver needle moved, pointing farther to the right. He must be getting close! Weaving his way around a pair of pillars, the Claw stopped in his tracks. The bulbous body of a gargantuan spider blocked his passage.
A cold chill ran down his spine. He tried to shake it off, but it was followed by another, and then another. There was no getting used to it. He hated spiders, and this was the biggest one he'd ever laid eyes on.
From where he stood, it looked as if the creature was jammed in place. It held perfectly still, not twitching so much as a leg. Moving to his left, he watched the needle on the compass as it swung again, pointing right at the spider.
A cold chill gripped the Claw, squeezing his stomach with fear. He continued to circle around, his hands gripped tight, hoping he wouldn't find what the compass was telling him he would. Slipping around another pillar, every hair on his body stood on end-a second huge spider.
Just like the first, its body was seemingly trapped between two pillars. It too held completely still, not a twitch, a tap, or a click. From where he stood, the Claw couldn't see either of their heads, but it certainly looked as if they were both facing the same thing.
Giving it a wide berth, the Claw moved around the rear of the trapped vermin. Steeling himself for what he was going to find, he peered around the pillar and into the space that seemed to hold these two huge spiders' attention.
The floor was awash in reddish brown filth. Stringy bits of gooey flesh and large chips of chitin littered the ground. From what he could piece together, the spiders had been cut in half and pounded flat. They had no faces, no fangs, no front legs, nothing left except their round lower halves. They had literally been squashed like bugs-only they were really big bugs, and whoever had done the squashing apparently didn't have feet large enough to smash more than half.
The Claw had never seen the inside of a spider-other than on the bottom of his boot. But he had seen what a dead human looked like. And nothing on the ground in front of him even remorely resembled the body of a
