Doom Of The Darksword Part 30

"Joram, son of Anja, you are charged with the murder of the overseer of the village of Walren. You are charged with the murder of a warlock of the Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith," Vanya continued severely. "How do you plead to these?"

"Guilty," Joram said again, though there was less pride. The dark face became unreadable. "They deserved death," he muttered in low tones. "One killed my mother. The other was a man of evil."

"Your mother attacked the overseer. The man of evil - as you call him - was acting in the interests of the realm," Bishop Vanya said coldly. The young man did not reply, but simply stared back at him defiantly, the dark eyes steady and unwavering.

"These are serious charges, Joram. The taking of a life for any reason is most strongly forbidden by the Almin. For that alone you could be sentenced to Beyond...."

At last, something touched Saryon, lifting the man from his stupor of despair. The catalyst raised his head, looking swiftly and meaningfully at Bishop Vanya. Dulchase saw a glint of spirit - fear and anger brought life to the haunted eyes. The Bishop, however, appeared oblivious to the catalyst's stare.

"But these charges pale before the crimes against the state that have brought you here to be sentenced...."

So that's why there's only three of us, Dulchase realized. Secrets of the realm and all that. And, of course, that's why I'm being made a Cardinal - to keep my mouth shut.

"Joram, son of Anja, you are charged with consorting with Sorcerers of the Dark Arts. You are charged with having read forbidden books ..."

Dulchase saw Joram's dark eyes shift to gaze upon Saryon once more, this time in shock. He saw Saryon, his brief flicker of spirit quenched, curl in upon himself, writhing in guilt. Dulchase saw the young man's splendid shoulders slump, he heard Joram sigh. It was a small sigh, but a sigh of such exquisite pain that it wrenched Dulchase's cynical heart. The proud head turned away from the catalyst, the black hair falling over the face as though the young man would hide willingly within that darkness forever.

"Joram! Forgive me!" Saryon burst out, stretching forth his hands beseechingly. "I had to tell them! If you only knew -"

"Deacon!" Vanya said in a taut, almost shrill voice. "You forget yourself!"

"I beg your pardon, Holiness," Saryon murmured, shrinking back into his chair. "It won't happen again."

"Joram, son of Anja," the Bishop continued, breathing heavily, his hands crawling on the arms of the stone chair. He leaned forward. "You are charged with the heinous crime of bringing darkstone - the cursed product of the Prince of Demons - back into a world that had banished it long ago. You are charged with the forging of a weapon out of this demonic ore! Joram, son of Anja, how do you plead? How do you plead?"

There was silence - a noisy silence, but silence nonetheless. Vanya's labored breathing, Saryon's ragged breaths, the hissing of the glowing rings, all beat at the silence but could not penetrate it. Dulchase knew that the young man would not answer. He saw the fiery rings draw nearer and nearer, and he quickly averted his gaze. Joram would suffer himself to be burned clear through before they would wring a word from him. Realizing this as well, Saryon leaped to his feet with a hollow cry. The Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith looked at Vanya questioningly, obviously wondering how far to go. looked at Vanya questioningly, obviously wondering how far to go.

The Bishop glared at Joram in cold fury. He opened his mouth, but another voice - a voice that slid across the tense surface like oil - broke the silence at last.

"Your Eminence," said the voice from the darkness, "I do not blame the young man for refusing to answer. You are not, after all, using his correct name. 'Joram, son of Anja.' Pah! Who is that? A peasant? You You must call him by his real name, Bishop Vanya, then perhaps he will deign to answer your charges." must call him by his real name, Bishop Vanya, then perhaps he will deign to answer your charges."

The voice might have been a thunderbolt hurled from the skies for the dread impact it had on the Bishop. Though Dulchase could not see Vanya's face with the light behind it, he saw the head beneath the heavy miter bathed in sweat and heard the breath rattle in the man's lungs. The pudgy hands went limp; twitching feebly, the fingers closed up in a ball like the legs of a frightened spider.

"Call him by his real name," continued the smooth, calm voice. "Joram, son of Evenue, Empress of Merilon. Or, shall we say, late late Empress of Merilon...." Empress of Merilon...."

10.

The Prince of Merilon "Nephew," said Prince Xavier, bowing his red-hooded head slightly in ironic greeting to Joram as he glided past the prisoner and came to a halt before the Bishop's throne. The Hall was well-lit now. At a command from the powerful warlock, globes of light appeared in the air, shedding a warm, yellow glow down upon those a.s.sembled in the Hall. No longer did Bishop Vanya have the ability to hide his face within shadows. His face was visible for all to see and everyone saw the truth.

Dulchase pressed his hand over his heart. Another shock like this will kill me, he told himself. In fact, it might kill a number of us.

Bishop Vanya had attempted a bl.u.s.tered denial, but his words dried up and blew away beneath The DKarn-Duuk's withering gaze. Unlike poor Saryon, who had shrunk within himself to the point of shrinking from sight altogether, the Bishop became bloated. Blotches of red mottled his white skin, sweat rolled off his forehead. He lay back in his chair, gasping slightly for breath, his rotund stomach heaving up and down, his hands plucking nervelessly at the red robes. He said nothing, but stared intently at the warlock. Prince Xavier stared back at Vanya, hands folded before his robes, his demeanor calm and a.s.sured. But there was mental war being waged between the two; the air fairly crackled with unspoken moves and counter-moves, each trying to gauge how much the other knew and what use he could make of it.

Standing within the fiery rings, the gamepiece over which the two fought, Joram was in a state of bewilderment that came near causing Dulchase to break out into fits of laughter. Indeed, the old Deacon did actually emit a nervous chuckle before he could suppress it. Realizing he was becoming hysterical from the strain, he managed to convert the chuckle into an odd-sounding cough that caused the young Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith guarding the prisoner to glance at him sharply. guarding the prisoner to glance at him sharply.

Dulchase knew now where he had seen those eyes, that regal tilt to the head, that imperious look. The boy was his mother all over again. Joram saw the truth plainly on Vanya's face, as did everyone else in the Hall, but - slowly - he shifted his gaze to Saryon as if for confirmation. The catalyst had been sitting huddled in his chair, his head in his hands ever since The DKarn-Duuk's obviously unexpected and unwanted arrival. Sensing the young man's thoughts turned toward him, Saryon raised his haggard face and looked directly into the dark, questioning eyes.

"It is true, Joram," the catalyst said in a soft voice, speaking as though he and the young man were the only two people in the room. "I've known it ... so long! So long!" He broke down, shaking his head, his hands trembling.

"I don't understand!" Joram's voice was thick, choked. "How? Why didn't you tell me the truth? By the Almin!" He swore softly, bitterly. "I trusted you!"

Saryon moaned, rocking back and forth in the cold stone chair. "I did it for the best, Joram! You must believe me! I ... I was wrong," he faltered, with a glance at Vanya. "But I did it for the best. You can't understand," he finished somewhat wildly. "There's more to it -"

"Indeed there is, Nephew," said Prince Xavier suddenly, whipping around with such speed that his robes shimmered about him like living flame. Throwing back his red hood with his thin hands, the warlock faced Joram, studying the young man's face with interest. "You favor our side of the family - your mothers and mine - which is why you have fallen into this predicament. Had the weak blood of that fool your father run in your veins, you would have dropped into obscurity and been happy tending carrots in that village where you were raised."

With a gesture, The DKarn-Duuk caused the flaming rings around the young man to vanish. Weak from the strain, exhaustion, and shock, Joram staggered and nearly fell. He caught himself, however, pulling himself upright. He's existing on nothing but pride alone, Dulchase thought in admiration. The same admiration was reflected on the face of Prince Xavier, who glanced at Bishop Vanya.

"The young man is weary. He has been, I a.s.sume, kept in prison since his capture last night?"

Bishop Vanya nodded, but did not reply.

"Have you eaten, drunk?" The DKarn-Duuk turned back to Joram.

"I need nothing," the young man said.

Prince Xavier smiled. "Of course not, but you should sit down. We are going to be here some time." Once more, his eyes glanced at the Bishop. "Explanations are, I believe, in order."

Bishop Vanya sat forward, his mottled face regaining some of its color. "I want to know how you found out!" he cried hoa.r.s.ely, his pudgy hands grasping the arms of the chair. "I want to know what you know!"

"Patience," said The DKarn-Duuk. Making a motion with his hand, he caused two more stone chairs to spring up from the floor, and with a graceful gesture, he invited Joram to sit. The young man glanced at the chair suspiciously, transferring the same suspicious glance to his uncle. Prince Xavier absorbed the suspicion with his thin-lipped smile, neither denying it nor accepting it. Once again, he gestured, and Joram sat down suddenly, as though his weakened body had made the decision for him.

The DKarn-Duuk took a seat beside the young man, his own body drifting gracefully into the chair. a.s.suming a seated position, he kept himself floating above the seat about an inch, however - whether for comfort's sake or flaunting his magical power, Dulchase wasn't certain. But the old Deacon knew he'd had enough.

Rising, bones creaking, to his feet, Dulchase faced his Bishop, his hand placed humbly over his heart.

"Eminence," said the catalyst, and was secretly pleased to note Prince Xavier's start at hearing him speak, "I am an old man. I have lived sixty years of my life in peace, finding consolation for what some might consider a boring life in the observation of the never-ending follies of my fellow humans. My tongue has been my curse. I admit that freely. I could not forebear on many occasions to comment on these follies. Thus I have remained a Deacon, and will be content to die a Deacon, I a.s.sure you. I just don't want to die a Deacon too soon, if you understand."

The DKarn-Duuk appeared to enjoy this, glancing at Dulchase out of the corner of his eye, the smile playing about his thin lips. Bishop Vanya was glowering at him, but Dulchase was in the comfortable position of knowing that his superior was apparently in worse trouble than he could ever possibly be, and so continued.

"I am subject to nightdreams, Eminence," Dulchase said simply. "But my nature is such that I forget about them immediately come morning. I am experiencing one of these dreams now, Holiness. It is extremely bad and I foresee that it will only get worse." He bowed most humbly, hand over his heart. "If you will excuse me, I will return to my bed and wake myself up before that happens. I have no doubt that no remembrance of any of this will linger in my old brain. You are illusions and, as such, I bid you good-night. Eminence." He bowed to the Bishop. "Your Highness." He bowed to The DKarn-Duuk. "Your Royal Highness." He bowed more deeply to Joram, who was watching him with, Dulchase noted, a half smile of his own, a smile that did not touch the lips but warmed the dark eyes.

Dulchase shivered. Yes, I must leave, he told himself heavily, and, turning, he took a step toward the stairs at the end of the Hall. Winding up into the mountain, they would take him, eventually, back to his cozy cell.

But Prince Xavier's voice stopped him. "I sympathize, Deacon. I really do," said the warlock coolly. "But it is too late to end this dream, I fear. Besides, you are still sitting in judgment. Your verdict is needed. And" - though his back was turned, Dulchase knew The DKarn-Duuk was glancing at Vanya - "I need witnesses. You will please, therefore, wake up and attend."

Dulchase considered making one final attempt to escape. He opened his mouth and saw the eyes of the warlock narrow ever so slightly.

"Yes, my lord." Dulchase acquiesced without enthusiasm, relapsing gloomily back into his chair.

"Now, where to start?" Prince Xavier placed the tips of his fingers together delicately, tapping them against the thin lips. "There are several questions on the floor. You, Holiness" - a fine irony - "demand to know how much I know and how I found out. You You, Nephew" - again, the irony - "have asked very simply, 'How?' meaning, I a.s.sume, 'how' you are here when the world and most most of those dwelling within fondly believe you to be dead. With all due respect, Holiness" - Bishop Vanya gnawed his lip, the sarcasm of The DKarn-Duuk making him livid with rage that he dared not express - "I will answer my nephew's question first. He is, after all, my sovereign." of those dwelling within fondly believe you to be dead. With all due respect, Holiness" - Bishop Vanya gnawed his lip, the sarcasm of The DKarn-Duuk making him livid with rage that he dared not express - "I will answer my nephew's question first. He is, after all, my sovereign."

Prince Xavier made a bow to Joram, lowering his eyes respectfully, then lifting them to see Joram scowl at him darkly. "No," answered the warlock, "I am not making sport of you, young man. Far from it. I am in earnest, deadly deadly earnest, I a.s.sure you." The thin lips no longer smiled. "You see, Joram, the right of succession to the throne of Merilon pa.s.ses through the Empress's side of the family. Lamentably, your mother has left us to go Beyond, into the realm of earnest, I a.s.sure you." The thin lips no longer smiled. "You see, Joram, the right of succession to the throne of Merilon pa.s.ses through the Empress's side of the family. Lamentably, your mother has left us to go Beyond, into the realm of death death." The DKarn-Duuk spoke the word with emphasis, watching those around him cringe involuntarily. "A grievous tragedy that will soon become a matter of public knowledge." He glanced at Vanya, who was sucking in air through his nose, glaring at him in impotent fury. "You, Joram, are now Emperor of Merilon." He sighed, smiling. "Enjoy your rule while you may. It will not last long. For, you see, as Her Late Majesty's brother, I am next in line after you." become a matter of public knowledge." He glanced at Vanya, who was sucking in air through his nose, glaring at him in impotent fury. "You, Joram, are now Emperor of Merilon." He sighed, smiling. "Enjoy your rule while you may. It will not last long. For, you see, as Her Late Majesty's brother, I am next in line after you."

Joram's expression smoothed, the dark eyes cleared.

He understands, Dulchase thought, lowering his head to his hand and resting his elbow on the arm of the chair in despair. Name of the Almin, its murder, then....

A m.u.f.fled groan from Saryon indicated that he, too, understood. "No," he began wretchedly, "you can't! You don't -"

"Shut up!" Prince Xavier said coldly. "You are broken, old puppet. You have played your role foolishly, but that was, in many respects, not your fault. The one who pulled your strings bungled his script.

"And now, Nephew, I will answer your questions both for your own benefit and for the benefit of those who sit in judgment and who will decide your fate."

Dulchase heaved a sigh and wished himself at the bottom of the Well.

"What knowledge I reveal," The DKarn-Duuk continued, "I have gained from questioning many people this night. The Bishop will, I trust, correct me in anything I say that is in error.

"Eighteen years ago, His Holiness, Bishop of the Realm, made a mistake. It was only a small mistake." The warlock waved his hand deprecatingly. "He misplaced a child. But it would prove to be a disastrous mistake for him. The child he misplaced was no ordinary child. The child was the Dead Prince of Merilon. Three of you - my mistake" - Prince Xavier smiled unpleasantly at Joram - "four of you were present during the ceremony wherein the baby - you, young man - were declared officially Dead. Your father, the Emperor, turned his back upon you, but your mother, my sister, refused to give you up. She knelt beside your crib, weeping tears of crystal. These tears shattered when they struck you, cutting your flesh."

Joram, now very pale, placed his hand upon his bare chest. Dulchase saw the white scars there and closed his eyes, remembering.

"Through the intervention of the Emperor, the Empress was finally convinced to release her child into the custody of Bishop Vanya, who was to take the baby back to the Font and perform the Death Watch. Word came to the Palace some days later that the child's physical body had died. Everyone mourned, except myself, of course. Nothing personal." He nodded to Joram, who - with a look of grim amus.e.m.e.nt - nodded back.

"I like you, Nephew," Prince Xavier said approvingly. "A pity. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Vanya's mistake."

The Bishop made a hissing sound, much like overheated air escaping a magical bubble.

Ignoring him, Xavier continued. "His Holiness took the baby to the Font. The Head of the Palace Guard accompanied him, so that there would be a witness. Vanya carried the child to the Chamber of the Dead and laid the baby upon a stone slab. That was before the time when more and more Dead were born among the families of Merilon. The Prince was the only baby present in the Chamber. It was then Vanya did a foolish thing, Nephew. He left the child there without placing a guard. Why? That will be explained in a moment. Patience. All things come to he who waits,' as the old saying goes."

With a gesture, Prince Xavier brought forth a globe of water from the air and sipped at it as it hovered obligingly near his mouth. The silence lay so heavily over the room that every swallow could be plainly heard. "A drink, my sovereign?"

Joram shook his head, never taking his eyes from the warlock's face. The DKarn-Duuk did not offer the water to the catalysts, but sent the globe back into the air with a word of command. "The baby was left alone, unguarded. Oh, certainly it was understandable. There had never been a guard upon those Chambers, so deep within the confines of the sacred mountain. And what was there to guard, after all? A child left to die? Ah, no!" Prince Xavier's cool voice changed subtly, growing warm and sinister, sending a thrill through his hearers.

"A child left to live!"

11.

The Truth Shall Make You Free A strangled sound came from Merlyn's Thumb. strangled sound came from Merlyn's Thumb.

"Yes, Vanya," Prince Xavier continued, "I know about the Prophecy. The Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith are loyal - loyal to the state. When it became clear to the Head of their Order that are loyal - loyal to the state. When it became clear to the Head of their Order that I I was now the state, the witch revealed everything to me. Yes, you are confused, Nephew. Up until now, all was easily understood. Listen carefully, for I will speak the Prophecy known previously only to Bishop Vanya and the was now the state, the witch revealed everything to me. Yes, you are confused, Nephew. Up until now, all was easily understood. Listen carefully, for I will speak the Prophecy known previously only to Bishop Vanya and the Duuk-tsarith." Duuk-tsarith."

In a soft voice, The DKarn-Duuk spoke the words that would whisper in Dulchase's ear every night from that moment on.

"There will be born to the Royal House one who is dead yet will live, who will die again and live again. And when he returns, he will hold in his hand the destruction of the world -"

Prince Xavier fell silent, his gaze intent upon Joram. The young man was pale, the full lips bloodless. But the expression on the dark face did not change, he did not speak.

"That is why I betrayed you, my son!"

The pent-up words burst from Saryon's throat as blood spurting from a torn heart. "I had no choice! His Holiness made me see! The fate of the world was in my hands!" Wringing those hands, Saryon gazed pleadingly at Joram.

What does Saryon hope for, Dulchase thought pityingly. Forgiveness? Understanding? Dulchase looked into Joram's stern face. No, the old Deacon said to himself, he won't find it in those dark depths.

But, for a moment, it seemed he might. Joram's eyelids flickered, the tight lips trembled; he turned his head ever so slightly toward the catalyst, who was watching with pathetic eagerness. But the pride bred in him by birth and fostered in him by madness froze the tears and checked the impulse. He averted his face even farther from Saryon, who sighed and slumped back into his chair. Joram's attention remained on The DKarn-Duuk.

"I will go on," said the warlock with a touch of impatience, "if there are no more interruptions. You You understand now why the Prince could not be allowed to die. He had to live - or the Prophecy would be fulfilled. Yet everyone must think him dead, it being inconceivable that a Dead Emperor one day occupy the throne of Merilon. understand now why the Prince could not be allowed to die. He had to live - or the Prophecy would be fulfilled. Yet everyone must think him dead, it being inconceivable that a Dead Emperor one day occupy the throne of Merilon.

"You see Vanya's quandary, Nephew?" Prince Xavier spread his hands, his sarcasm soft and lethal. "I don't know what he intended to do with you, Joram. What did you plan, Bishop? Will you tell us?"

There was no answer, other than the Bishops labored breathing.

The DKarn-Duuk shrugged. "It is not important. Probably, he had plans for keeping you locked in some secret cell within the Font where you would have lived a prisoner until he could hit upon a solution. Ah, I see that I am not far wrong in my guessing."

Dulchase, glancing at Vanya, saw a nerve begin to twitch in the man's jaw.

"His plan, whatever it was, went awry. He had purposefully left no guard, intending to slip back down into the Chamber that night and remove the Prince to a safer area. Imagine his horror, Nephew, when he returned to the Chamber and found the baby gone!"

Dulchase could imagine. The skin of his bald head crawled, his feet were icy.

"Our Bishop - ever thinking - did not panic. He was able, after quiet investigation, to gain some clue as to what had occurred. A woman named Anja had given birth to a stillborn child. When the Theldara Theldara told the mother this and showed her the dead child, Anja went mad. She refused to give up the body. The told the mother this and showed her the dead child, Anja went mad. She refused to give up the body. The Theldara Theldara sent for the sent for the Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith to take the baby away from her. Through their magical arts, they did so, and left Anja supposedly sedated. But she fooled them. I have heard, Nephew, that you are skilled in the art of sleight of hand and illusion and that these were taught you by this woman you knew as your mother. That does not surprise me. She was skilled in that art, as we know from her having fooled the to take the baby away from her. Through their magical arts, they did so, and left Anja supposedly sedated. But she fooled them. I have heard, Nephew, that you are skilled in the art of sleight of hand and illusion and that these were taught you by this woman you knew as your mother. That does not surprise me. She was skilled in that art, as we know from her having fooled the Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith, people not easily deceived.

"Bishop Vanya could discover nothing for certain, of course, but he deduced - and I agree with him - that the woman fled her room and wandered about the Font, searching for the way out. She happened upon the Chamber of the Dead. Here she found a baby, a living baby! s.n.a.t.c.hing up the child, Anja escaped the Font in the night. By the time Vanya discovered what had happened, the skilled wizardess had covered her tracks well.

"Thus, Nephew, for years Bishop Vanya has lived with the knowledge that somewhere in this world, you, the Prince, were alive. Yet, try as he might, he could not find you. The only ones allowed in on this secret were the highest ranking of the Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith, who, of course, a.s.sisted in the search. Any reports of living Dead were checked out carefully, they tell me. The first to come close to matching was you, Joram, who revealed yourself to them when you killed the overseer. The description of your mother fit Anja; you were the right age.

"But Vanya couldn't be certain. Fortunately, you made matters easy for the Bishop by fleeing into the Outland. A warlock - one of the Duuk-tsarith's Duuk-tsarith's best, known as Blachloch - was there already, performing a covert operation with the Sorcerers. This man was alerted to watch for you. His men found you easily and he kept you under his surveillance. best, known as Blachloch - was there already, performing a covert operation with the Sorcerers. This man was alerted to watch for you. His men found you easily and he kept you under his surveillance.

"Once more, however, the Bishop was in a quandary. He did not now dare try to keep you in the Font, where, so the saying goes, 'the walls have ears and tongues.' He had too many enemies who were prepared to step into his place. Vanya decided that it would be just as safe, keeping you in the Outlands under the watchful eyes of not only the warlock but a catalyst as well." The DKarn-Duuk gestured at the huddled figure of Saryon. "But Vanya had not counted upon you discovering darkstone. Slowly, inexorably, Nephew, it seemed that the Prophecy was being fulfilled. You You were - or shall we say were - or shall we say are - are - becoming too dangerous." becoming too dangerous."

Prince Xavier fell silent, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. No one else spoke. Vanya sat in his chair, his fingers crawling up and down the arm, staring at The DKarn-Duuk as a losing card player stares at his opponent, trying to calculate his next move. Joram, the stern mask of pride beginning to slip, appeared almost stupid from weariness and shock. He looked at nothing with dull, glazed eyes. Saryon was drowning in his own misery. Dulchase felt sorry for the man, but there was little it seemed he could do.

The old Deacons head ached; he was shivering from cold and nerves so that he had to keep his teeth firmly clamped together to stop them from rattling in his head. He was angry, too. Angry at having been dragged into this absurd, dangerous situation. He didn't know who to believe. Didn't, in fact, believe any of them. Oh, some of it he must concede was true. The kid was obviously the Empress's son - that hair and those eyes couldn't lie.

But - a Prophecy to destroy the world? Every generation of mankind had been told by one prophet or another that it was doomed. How this Prophecy came about, the Deacon didn't know. But he could guess. Some old man living on bugs and honey for a year has a vision and sees the end of the world. Probably all due to constipation. But now, hundreds of years later, it was going to cost this kid his life.

Forgetting himself, Dulchase snorted in disgust. The sound split the tense atmosphere like thunder. Everyone in the room started, and all eyes - even the cold, flat eyes of The DKarn-Duuk - turned on the old Deacon.

"Head cold," Dulchase muttered, making a show of wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robe.

To his relief, Bishop Vanya took advantage of the break in the charged atmosphere to stir his great bulk. "How did you find out?" he asked Prince Xavier once more.

The warlock smiled. "Still trying to save your skin, aren't you, Eminence? I don't blame you. It covers a large quant.i.ty of blubber that would undoubtedly be an extremely disgusting sight if it leaked out for all to see. Who else knows? you're wondering. Are they in a position to take your place? Am I in a position to put them there?"

Vanya's complexion went sallow. He started to make some reply, but Prince Xavier raised a thin hand. "No more bl.u.s.tering. You may relax, in fact, Bishop. I could replace you, but I find it suits me not to - provided, of course, that you and I reach agreement on a final solution to our our problems. But we will discuss those further. Now, to answer your question. A gentlemen of the upper middle cla.s.s came to me last night, distraught over the disappearance of his daughter." problems. But we will discuss those further. Now, to answer your question. A gentlemen of the upper middle cla.s.s came to me last night, distraught over the disappearance of his daughter."

Joram raised his head, the dark eyes flashing.