Krakas steeled her nerves and led the two others down the hall. She was none too familiar with the layout of the castle, not having seen much of it in her short stay. She could, however, spot Rughoi's chambers, clearly marked by the extended guard duty posted at the door. Opposed to the usual two, there were now four.

"Halt!" shouted one, pointing his spear at the trio. "State your business. You are at risk of treason simply by daring to come so close to His Might's chambers."

"I . . . " Krakas began, but faltered. She took a deep breath and tried again. "You . . . you will not hinder me. I must speak to my son." The guards appeared surprised, but one quickly shook off the shock and leveled his weapon in their direction.

"What sort of irregularity is this? I have never seen treason so poorly executed. Qwari, fetch His Might. Werix, call the reserve guard. If necessary, we shall string you up in the town square and execute you before the citizens." Krakas couldn't believe the depths of this cruel speak. Are these the orders of her son?

"What is the meaning of this?" came a rumbly voice from within. A soft muttering, inaudible to those outside, was the response. "Impossible. My mother was abducted by the traitor Rama. If he is with them, I want him captured and brought to me." The sound of claws clicking on stone echoed throughout the rooms, and Rughoi stepped out. The guards' shock was nothing to his. He leapt back, shouting ancient prayers. "Madness! Sorcery! This cannot be true! I am lost to my own guilt, or enraptured by an apparition. Away! Lock them up!" The guards, however, hesitated to act.