Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #11 February 2015 | Page 39

wooden staff. Freda suppressed a laugh. She saw through their deception; she had dealt with wizards before. The two visitors shuffled into position before the two thrones. They bowed, stiffly and not very low. One of them cleared his throat and made to speak. Freda nodded, discreetly, to the leader of the group of heavily armed guards who stood at attention to one side. He barked an order and the men drew their swords and surrounded the startled wizards. She spoke sweetly, in a voice that oozed sickly honey, a voice she kept for public occasions before people got to know her true nature. “It is customary, in Dishley, for all visitors to kiss the feet of King Jack before they open their mouths to speak. Violation of this protocol is viewed as a serious insult and has been known to result in death. I’m sure your inaction is based only on your ignorance and is not a deliberate slight. Please, show your respect to his Majesty and I’m sure all will be forgiven.” She smiled at the two old men, who seemed to have taken much firmer grips on their staffs. They looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. In turn, they shuffled forward, dropped slowly to their knees, and prostrated themselves at the feet of the King. Jack hardly seemed to notice. Freda smiled. Inside she already knew that they were too weak to withstand her. She nodded to the guard leader and the soldiers sheathed their swords and returned to their ceremonial positions. The two wizards regained their original places and the first of them, with the unruly hair, cleared his throat again. This time Freda allowed him to continue. He tried to make eye contact with the King, but Jack seemed to be staring mindlessly into the middle distance. The wizard began to speak. “Your Majesty, my name is Frisa and my companion is called Hroc. We are here on the command of our leader, Weylyn the Wolf, to discuss matters of great importance. We seek an urgent audience with you in private. It is a matter that affects the security of your Kingdom.” Jack made no response. Freda let them wallow in silence for longer than was necessary. She no- ticed that beads of sweat were forming on Frisa’s brow. She looked at her husband. “Jack, my love, perhaps you’ll let me deal with this matter.” She looked back at the visitors. “He’s distracted by important matters of state. You may speak to me, as if you were speaking to him. Isn’t that right my dear?” She wanted to give him a good kick; instead she reached over and tapped his arm. “What? Oh, yes. Whatever you say, my dear.” The King went back to staring into the middle distance. “Where’s Christopher?” A flash of fury shot through Freda. She did her best to mask it. “Don’t worry, my love, I’ll send Paul in to talk to you. Gentlemen, will you join me in my private quarters?” She stood and walked slowly from the throne room. Servants rushed to open doors and to grab the hem of her dress. She knew that she carried herself well; tall and upright with the long black dress making her appear to glide over the floor. She put on a show for the wizards, who followed in her wake. Her private quarters were dark. The heavy black curtains were always drawn. Oil lamps and candles provided limited illumination. The furniture was heavy and ornate, upholstered in dark red and purple. Bookshelves lined the walls, packed with dusty volumes. A black cat was asleep in a basket in the corner. A raven fluttered in a birdcage, suspended from the ceiling above the cat’s basket, just too high for a cat to jump and reach it. Freda glided over to the couch and arranged herself there. She indicated to the wizards that they should sit in the lounge chairs on either side of her. She commanded her servants to bring tea. The wizards shot glances at each other and shifted in their seats. They were uncomfortable; that was good. They tried to make small talk. “If I may be so bold, King Jack does not look well. I hope it is nothing serious?” Hroc ventured. Freda looked disdainfully at him. “He is not long for this realm.” Hroc looked shocked, which pleased Freda immensely. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” PAGE 39