Azek slowly lowered his head. He almost appeared meek for a moment. Almost. After nearly a minute had passed his head snapped back up. If her eyes had been cold iron, his were now hot steel. “Queen Ilirra,” his voice was far calmer than his eyes, “I have sworn an oath to you. To protect Taron...to protect you!” His voice softened to almost a whisper. “Your command is never, nor will ever be, in question. My life will always be yours to command.” He bowed low to the ground, turned, then continued down the hall.
The Queen kept her eyes fixed on him until he disappeared around the corner. He was a good soldier, she knew. And despite her occasional irritations with the man, she admired how he spoke his mind. With a sigh she continued to drift across the always shiny tile floor. Past the common room and bedchambers she went, now feeling a bit rushed, although she hoped no one else thought so. Down a flight of wooden stairs and into the cellar she scurried.
The small wooden room housed all sorts of bottled wine. Some had been imported, but most were domestic brands enjoyed by the people of Taron. Others were covered in dust and seemed as though no one was enjoying them. But the Queen had not run in here for wine.
Through the cellar she dashed as two maids saw her at the last minute. They quickly dropped down into awkward bows. Ilirra never even noticed. Whipping right past them, she rushed through the wooden door at the far side of the cellar and down one last flight of wooden steps. There she stood in a medium-sized room with the stone walls painted a sickly brown, lit up by several oil lamps hung around the walls. She approached the wooden door and lightly knocked. She was the Queen of Taron, yet she knocked!
The door opened a crack, just enough for the old man to get a look at the intruder, as if he didn’t already know whom it was. A large smile crossed the old man’s face as he flung the door wide open and gestured for her to enter. The short, bald man had a long, thin gray beard and was dressed in a worn-out pair of gray pajamas. Standing next to the Queen in her radiant silk skirt, the man looked laughably out of place, but he seemed perfectly at ease, as his warm smile never wavered.
The small room had a thick layer of dark blue paint slathered on the walls, and contained almost no furniture at all. A brown hammock was tied between two poles in the corner, and an old wooden table in the center of the room was all the furniture there was. The table housed a small sphere which looked like a large pearl embedded within a silver cup. The east wall contained a metal rack with various jars filled with clear fluid and strange little creatures most folk had never seen or heard of.
Stroking his thin beard, the old man said, “And to what do I owe the honor of this visit, Your Highness?”
The Queen impatiently got right to the point. In a blur she said, “I need an updated report, Berkeni. Have you been able to locate him? What news do you have?” Ilirra suddenly composed herself as she began straightening her dress, which was already perfectly smooth. She had been forced to remain patient while a pack of fools ate her food and drank her wine, all the while oblivious to the stirring evils growing in the world, far beyond the comprehension of those simpletons. She had not meant to take it out on Berkeni.
Berkeni stood in silence for a moment, then clasped his hands behind him as he began to pace slowly back and forth. “I’m sorry, there is nothing new for me to report as far as he goes,” he said in a scratchy high-pitched voice. “I’ve told you what I know already. He has come of age, that much I can sense. To be honest, I don’t really even know if he is indeed a he, or she, or it. I just know the exotic power can now be detected.” He stopped pacing and looked squarely at the Queen as he said, “And if I can feel him...”
“I know!” the Queen snapped. Then, putting a hand to her forehead as she closed her eyes, she repeated the words calmly, as if more to herself. “I know...others can sense him as well.”
“However, I do have some other news that I feel would be of interest to you, Your Highness.” Ilirra took her hand from her forehead and flashed her brilliant green eyes at the man, clearly growing tired of his usual beating around the bush. His cryptic games had become tiresome. He confidently returned her look, even paused a moment longer than was necessary to make a small point. “The guardian lives,” he said in a near whisper, “she was not killed during the raid of Brinton.”
The Queen’s expression never changed. She just stood there staring at the man with a blank, unreadable face. “You are sure of this,” she finally said in an even tone.
“Yes, I’ve even located her,” he gestured toward the globe sitting on the table. “But there is no reason to go after her,” he spat out quickly, as if knowing what the Queen was thinking. “She knows her duty. If I can feel him, she can as well. And she is better equipped to find him than either of us.”