The Human Soulstone
Zac awoke with a start, feeling a hand rest on his shoulder. He sat bolt upright with a yelp, his heart pounding, instantly awake – and he saw none other than the drunk cup bearer Roald standing next to his bed, looking alarmed.
“Whoa, I apologize,” Roald said as Zac stared at him with wide, wild eyes. “Didn’t you know you rested so uneasily, ya know?”
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” Zac blurted. “Or – or my house?”
Roald didn’t even seem to hear, almost looking through him. “We need your help, my Lord,” he went on, halfway in a monotone. “The slaves have gotten loose again. I tried to tell your demon Ajira to keep a closer eye on them, but he doesn’t listen to anybody but you. Should I have all the slaves killed publicly as an example?”
He fell silent a moment as Zac’s jaw worked but nothing came out.
Fear crossed Roald