The heavy oak doors of the underground chamber of Falmouth City groaned shut behind the last elder, sealing the room in near-total darkness. Only a single ring of low-burning torches, mounted on iron sconces around the circular stone walls, cast flickering amber light across the round table.
The table itself was a relic older than the city; massive, with glowing red liquid flowing from its center outward to the edges.
Nine high-backed seats of carved yew surrounded it, each one equal in height and dignity.
Usually at this point the elders would bicker among themselves before the main meeting started. Tonight, however, the silence felt crushing.
Elder Maelis Dragonforge, whose voice was usually the calmest, finally broke the heavy silence.
"It's been three days and that young man is nowhere to be found."
Tamara, who sat opposite him, leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. "That 'young man' is our master, so show him some respect."
