The Marshal peered at her without the slightest flicker of amusement. He was dressed in a bit more gold than the other two, and he was the only one of them whose sword was still sheathed. He never got his hands dirty unless there was no alternative. He glanced past her into the room, just as the black and white cat scurried under the couch.

"Take her," he snapped in command. He shoved his way into the room while the two guards each grabbed one of Sam's arms, holding her tightly between them. The Marshal's armor clinked while he stepped forward. He leaned down, grabbed the edge of the couch and heaved it with an enormous force, sending it crashing into the coffee table while a lamp shattered on the floor. The cat was huddled in the spot where the couch had been, staring wide-eyed and stunned -- but when the Marshal took a step forward, she bolted behind the broken couch, streaked around the hall corner and took a running leap at the mirror on the wall. The cat vanished.

"This way," the Marshal barked, taking purposeful long strides down the hall. "Bring the girl." He ducked at the end of the hall and stepped easily into the mirror, and was gone just as quickly as the cat. The two officers tightened their grip on Sam and dragged her along after him.