Not one for long prayers, the woman bowed her head. 'In coin we trust.'
Her hands flaring with golden light, magic seeped from her fingertips, first surrounding the tiny diamonds then spreading over the dead man. The warm glow enveloped the entire stone slab, throbbing once, twice, then coalescing into something more solid.
A short burst of light consumed the tiny diamonds, replacing them with large golden coins covering Jallal's body.
Each had on its surface the profile of a beautiful woman, her face angular, uplifted, and strong. Her hair flowed around her, wisps of energy, power, and wealth. And on her brow rested a simple tiara of gold and precious stones.
Then Jallal's body began to transform. The limbs, already strong in life, grew thicker and more powerful, the feet turning to hooves. The fingers, thin and smooth, became rough and covered with hair. The face, round and flat, protruded ever so slightly, the cheekbones spreading, the mouth expanding with sharpened teeth, and the beard disappearing, leaving only the smooth skin beneath. And on the forehead, two tiny horns jutted forward-the mark of a minor demon.
Jallal Tasca coughed, sending a pile of coins jingling off the stone slab and onto the floor. Taking in another breath, the revived man coughed a second time, struggling with lungs that had not been used for nearly a tenday.
'Take your time,' said the old wrinkled man, still not looking up from his scroll. 'You've been away from this plane awhile.'
Opening his eyes, Jallal sat up, sending the remaining coins tumbling to the floor. He poked at his new, stronger body, testing his skin and bones for solidity. His fingers traveled up his neck until they found the place where the four blades had punched through. There were no holes there now, only thick, purplish scar tissue piled up in smooth lumps.
His fingers continued on to his face, probing its new shape and the sharpened teeth. Finally, Jallal felt the horns, and he pulled his hands away, recoiling in fear.
'What have you done to me?' His voice was rough and scratchy.
'I have brought you back from the dead,' the woman said, not at all pleased with the man's tone. 'And given you a gift.'
Jallal looked at his hair-covered hands. 'I'm-' He cleared his throat. 'I'm… I'm in your debt,' he said, resignation in his voice.
The woman nodded. 'Yes. Yes you are.'
Still perplexed by his new form, Jallal continued to examine himself. 'What is this… this… gift you have bestowed upon me?'
'You have consumed the flesh of a ghour,' explained the old man, 'a demon who was in the service of an abyssal lord.'
'I see,' replied Jallal.
'The effects are different for everyone,' continued the old man. 'You seem to have received a physical manifestation.'
Jallal spun himself so his legs dangled off the side of the slab. Then he rubbed his temples.
'I-' He shook his head. 'I don't remember much. The storehouse. The Claw coming out of nowhere…'
'That's very common,' said the old man, finally rolling up his scroll and crossing over to the slab. 'Your memory will slowly return, now that you draw breath again.'
As if on cue, Jallal seemed struck by a sudden thought. He grabbed the woman by the arm. 'My brother! Where is Pello?'
The woman pulled her robe from his grasp, irritated by his groping. 'Your brother is alive.'
Seeing the woman's anger rising, Jallal recoiled, realizing his error. 'Matron, forgive me.' He bowed as best he could while seated.
The Matron nodded, smoothing out the velvet on her sleeve where it had been ruffled. 'See that it doesn't happen again.'
'Yes, Matron.' Jallal pulled his naked frame off the stone slab and dropped to his knees in supplication. 'Thank you, Matron.'
'Yes, yes,' she replied. 'We don't have time for all of this. Your brother has been sent to the Cellar.' 'The Cellar! But how?'
'He was sentenced by the king for trafficking in Elixir,' said the old man.
'A rather overzealous punishment if you ask me,' added the Matron. 'But perhaps we can use it to our favor.'
'Forgive me, Matron, but how will my brother's imprisonment work in our favor? He is all but dead to us in the Cellar. There is no way in or out. We'll never get him back.'
The Matron smiled. 'You are wrong.' She placed her hand on top of his head, stroking his horns affectionately, as if he were her favorite pet. 'The king, the senators, and the head of the Magistrates all have access to the Cellar.'
Jallal let out a sigh of relief. 'I see.' He stood up, seemingly regaining his composure. 'So it is only a matter of time.'
The old man let out a damp, raspy chuckle. 'He catches on quickly.'
The Matron nodded to the old man. 'Now you see why I wanted your help in bringing him back.' Turning to Jallal, her gaze spoke for her.
'I owe you my life,' said Jallal. 'Whatever you desire, if it is within my power, you shall have it.'
The old man came around the stone slab, a white robe draped over his arms. Its chest was adorned with the image of the goddess Waukeen-the same image as was on the gold coins that now littered the floor.
The Matron took it from him and handed it to the naked Jallal. 'I want you to kidnap Princess Mariko.'
Taking the garment, he covered himself. 'As you wish.'
Then, from the folds of her own robe, the Matron produced a flared sword, wrapped in a polished wooden sheath with inlaid golden runes along the edge.
'You may need this as well,' she said, thrusting the blade into Jallal's hand. 'In case you meet your friend.' She touched the purple scars on his neck. 'The Claw.'
Chapter Six
The sun had set over the Snowflake Mountains some time ago. The last rays of light disappeared as a blanket of darkness pulled up over Llorbauth. Princess Mariko made her way to the eastern-most courtyard.
As she did, she passed the statue of her mother, and she ran her hand along the polished stone plinth that held her high above the ground. Her father had erected the statue within the last year, in memory of the queen's passing. Mariko could feel the powerful anti-magic auras that emanated out of the stone. Her father had found a way to cast every protective ward imaginable on the carving of his deceased wife. Nothing magical at least would ever defile her. While Mariko's mother had been taken prematurely, her memory would last for eternity.
Lifting her hand, the princess continued on into the courtyard. The buildings that surrounded this open bit of land were often unused. Built as the last phase of Klarsamryn, they were meant to hold foreign dignitaries and their entourages when they came for diplomatic visits. Years ago, when Erlkazar was a young nation just getting on its feet, there were many such meetings. But now that King Valon Morkann's crown had passed to his son, Korox, stability had been achieved. King Korox had united the kingdom in a peaceful accord by anointing his fellow Crusaders as the rulers of the other four baronies. There were fewer concerns from the neighboring kingdoms these days. And they stopped trying to butt into the daily matters of the newest nation in the region.
As such, this made a perfect location for the princess's nightly rendezvous with the Claw. If there was any reason for the buildings that looked out on the courtyard to be occupied, certainly she would know. Tonight the buildings were all deserted.
The day had been cloudy, which meant the night was quite dark. This suited the princess fine. Her dark leathers would blend into the shadows.
