Land's End, Part 2
It infuriated Gilbetron that his wife wouldn’t grant him an audience. Memorex had seemed positively thrilled to deliver the bad news. He couldn’t imagine what kind of threat he posed to her — he loved her! — but clearly his love was no longer enough.
He decided to leave before Memorex got around to calling for a guard to escort him out of the castle. It would do not good for the co-ruler of the country to be seen forced out into the city like a commoner. Surely Telematrice wouldn’t let it get so far, he mused to himself. Maybe she would. I don’t know who she is anymore.
He was on his way to the livery stables when a man in a dark cloak stepped into his path. There was no veering left or right without running into someone, so he stopped. He tries peering into the hood, but it was too dark to make out any of the man’s facial features. He realized with a start that it was impossible to determine if it really was a man at all. There was no evidence to the contrary, and yet—
The man was holding out a clenched fist. Curious, Gilbetron didn’t move, even though under normal circumstances he would have been well within his rights to run for it. Something about this man kept him glued to the spot, despite his disquieting lack of identifying features.
“Who are you?” he asked, but he wasn’t surprised when no answer came.
Except that wasn’t entirely true. The man had turned his fist so that his finger folded up. One by one, those finger began to lift back, until the hand was fully extended. Resting on the rough, blackened palm was a improbably tiny crystal, glinting as it gentle shifted in the midmorning light.
He decided to try again. “What is it?”
“An answer,” the cloaked man intoned. “Take it and find what you’ve been searching for.”