You accept Lord Constable Nathor’s offer of an escort to Queen Evaine’s citadel and call to Lord Ardan, who has been watching from the deck of the Saxin, to come and join you. As Ardan disembarks, Nathor gives a signal to his men who are busy keeping an inquisitive crowd of citizens at bay. Hurriedly they clear a gap in the pressing wall of curious, wide-eyed Garthenians, and moments later the horse-drawn coach comes trundling through towards the quay.
Once you and Ardan are safely aboard, Lord Constable Nathor shouts a terse command to the driver and the coach speeds away from the harbour, escorted by the troop of Court Cavalry. A swervingly swift journey through Garthen’s steeply narrow streets ends when the coachman reins in his horses in the courtyard of the Royal Citadel. Everywhere you look you see soldiers of the Royal Household in uniforms bedecked with glittering braid. A fanfare of trumpets announces your arrival and, with minimal delay, Nathor escorts you personally to the State Hall where Queen Evaine of Talestria, seated upon a throne and surrounded by a dozen of her court advisors, is waiting patiently for you to appear.
‘Welcome, Grand Master,’ she says, graciously. ‘We have been expecting you. King Sarnac sent word of your arrival by message-hawk and we have made arrangements to help speed your passage homewards.’
Respectfully you bow to the queen and voice your thanks for the cooperation she has seen fit to offer you.
‘Not at all, Grand Master, for Talestria is in your debt. Were it not for you, our land would be in the thrall of the Darklords.’
With this, Queen Evaine dismisses her advisors and motions for you, Ardan, and Lord Constable Nathor to approach to the foot of her throne.
‘I understand the urgency of your journey, Grand Master,’ she says, her voice hushed as if she fears being overheard, ‘but I must caution you to be on guard. The Dark God Naar’s agents are abroad with plans to thwart your homecoming. I have received word from my garrisons in the north that Zlanbeast and Kraan riders have been sighted in the night skies. They venture forth from the ruins of the Darklord cities of Nadgazad and Cragmantle, sent by the express command of Naar himself. They know now that you triumphed in Ixia and they are watching expectantly for your coming.’
‘I thank you for this information, your Majesty, but I am sure that I can avoid these night-riders,’ you reply confidently.
‘I have no doubt of this, Grand Master,’ she says, ‘but they are not the only agents in Naar’s employ. Word of your coming has spread like wildfire throughout the shadowy underworld of thieves and assassins. Great rewards of gold and dark magic have been offered for your death.’
‘With respect, your majesty,’ you reply, tactfully masking your scepticism, ‘how do you know this to be true?’
‘Grand Master, it is true. I have heard it from the very lips of an assassin who was plotting your murder, here, in the heart of my capital. He was captured while attempting to recruit others and he is being held prisoner in the dungeons of this citadel. Perhaps you would welcome the chance to question this man yourself?’
If you wish to accept Queen Evaine’s offer and question your would-be assassin, turn to 132.
If you choose not to question the prisoner, turn to 111.