* * *
The king, holding the Scepter, opened multiple portals in the center of the large room. Most took the hint and the throne room quickly emptied. A few of the crowd around the throne tried to speak to the king, his wife, or Chairman of the Conclave, but received only coldness and left in a hurry. After a moment, only the three remained.
The snake-voiced Chairman glared at the spot where Abrennin had been standing. “I can't believe you talked me into that.”
Ignoring the king's look, his wife went to stand close to the Chairman, placing her hand on his arm. “I know we agreed to kill him, but I didn't realize how much Crystyn felt for him. Besides, he would have been a martyr, and this really is torture for them.”
“That is true, my dear, and for all he defied the Conclave, he deserves torture,” the man replied. “And we can always kill him later...”
The man tailed off as a shadow separated itself from the corner of the room, expanding to become a figure dressed in a hooded black robe. The king jumped to his feet as the figure slid effortlessly across the room to stand near the three. “But why would you want to,” said the figure, pulling back the hood to reveal a woman with sunshine blond hair. She accepted the king's kiss on her cheek warmly, and the nod from his wife with a smile. “Thank you for showing mercy,” she said, looking at each of them in turn. “I cannot understand why you hurt and kill each other.”
The Chairman glared at her. “We manage our own in our own way.”
She sighed. “Yes, of course.” She looked at the far doors. “He comes from powerful blood. Even if he could never be the One now, perhaps his offspring...”
The king's wife shook her head. “They are powerless cripples now, and any children they might have will be no-mus. You will need to look somewhere else to fulfill your prophecy.”
“The time of prophecy is near. I can feel it.” The woman's face hardened and she shook her head. “We have worked and planned for a very long time. It would be a shame to have you stop heeding my advice now, just out of fear of losing control of the masses.” She lifted one finger and traced a pattern while pointing at the floor. Rivers of flame burst into being on the floor all around them, “If you have cold feet, I can help.”
The snake voiced-man sneered, “The Conclave will watch them, and is not afraid of doing what is necessary.” He glared at the king, finally gesturing impatiently at the fire. The king finally got the hint and muttered something with a twist of the Scepter. The fire winked out. “You wanted to just let him go, but we have the power and freedom to torture or kill whoever we wish.”
The blond woman ducked her head and held up her hands. “As you say,” she replied. “As the Conclave wills. I am powerless to intervene.” She bowed deep enough to be extremely respectful, or perhaps sarcastic. With that, she leaped from the floor, jumping impossibly high, her robe fluttering like a bird's wings. She tucked into a roll and vanished in an echoing explosion of fire.