Lysette and Jayhawk were granted audience early the next morning. They entered the palace where a vizier attached himself to the two of them and walked them through the hallways. After a whille they entered a large hall, with two row of undead gaurdsmen on either side.
Large doors, bronze with reliefs, ended the hallway. Four brawny men pulled them open and a low gong sounded as another servant swing the decorated log on it's chains agains the bronze face.
"Jayhawk, Lord of Elsinore and the Lady Lysette of Torvold" a deep basso voice announced. It's tones merged with the sound of the gong and send shivers up Lysette's spine.
She looked at the minstrel and wondered.
"Elsinore...? Now where would that be? and what did the man mean by Lord" However, the minstrel eyes were on the dias in front of him and he didn't seem to be aware of her curiosity.
The room was large, large enough to hold the banquet hall in Torvold three, four times over. A double colonade of dark marble pillars held up the sides. Dark armoured, undead guards filled the gaps between the pillars. The hall smelled of incense a the dry musty smell of a long forgotten tomb.
The dias was 4 steps up an on it stood a throne, carved from bone. The skull that framed it seemed that of a large lizard.
"Could it be a dragon's skull?" Lysette wondered, then her gaze fell upon the norseman and his friends that were placed to the side of the dias, held by a pair of unmoving guards.
"Thoren" she whispered.
"You may proceed," the vizier said and stepped backwards. The minstrel took a step forward and swept a grandiose bow to the man seated in the chair. Lysette curtsied and looked at the necromancer.
He was an old man, with skin the colour of vellum, a few wisps of white hair escaped the confines of the elaborately jeweled headdress. His body was swathed in jeweled and embroidered silk, the long wide sleeves dropped almost to the ground. His hands were narrow, not much more than skin and bone birdclaws.
"Who...approaches me?" the old man wheezed, then coughed. His pale eyes focused on the pair in front of him.
"One...one of the spirit folk. Ha...aven't I seen you before?" His gaze shifted to Lysette.
"And a gi..irl. A pretty girl."
His smile took a hundred years of his age and made him seem a boy. Lysette could imagine him at the height of his power, strong and bold, with never a thought for the ages that followed.
"Wha...what bring you here, my pretty?"
Lysette hesitated for a moment, then at a slight nod from the minstrel spoke.
"I've come for my husband."