“I hear you have a warning for the king,” he said
boldly. “You may speak it to me.”

“My orders are to speak only to the king himself,” Miranda said. “It is a matter of some delicacy.”

“I am Oban, Master of Security. You’ll speak it to me, or not at all,” he huffed.

Miranda looked at Gin, who flicked his ear in the ghosthound equivalent of a shrug. “I suppose we have wasted enough time,” she said. “I am here on behalf of the Spirit Court by order of the Rector Spiritualis, Etmon Banage. Yesterday morning we received a tip that the known fugitive wizard and wanted criminal Eli Monpress has been sighted within your kingdom. It is our belief that he is after an old wizard artifact held in your treasury. I am here to offer my assistance to keep him from stealing it.”

There was a long pause, and Miranda got the horrible, sinking feeling that she had missed something important.

“Lady,” the Master of Security said, shaking his head, “if you’re here to warn the king about Eli, then you’re a little late.”

Miranda scowled. “You mean he’s already stolen the artifact?”

“No.” The Master of Security sighed. “He’s stolen the king.”