The Return of Tharn Part 12

"My master's respects, n.o.ble Garlud," the captain replied woodenly, "and he bids me escort you to the palace at once."

"Does it require four of you to help me find my way to Jaltor's palace?"

Garlud demanded, his voice suddenly sharp.

The captain's face seemed even bleaker. "I obey my orders, n.o.ble Garlud.

I must ask you to don clothing at once and come with us."

For a moment it seemed that Garlud was about to refuse ... then a slight smile crooked the corners of his mouth and he turned to take up his tunic. He slipped into the garment without haste, drew the strings of his sandals tight about his ankles, then straightened.

"I am ready," he said.

It was a cold, forbidding room, its walls, ceiling and floor of bare roughened gray stone, and located deep beneath the palace of Jaltor, supreme ruler of all Ammad. Against the far wall was a narrow bed occupied by the naked body of an elderly man. It was a body thin to the point of emaciation, the ribs standing out sharp and distinct beneath yellowing skin. Two middle-aged men, their expressions grave, were gingerly applying liquid-soaked cloths against scorched blotches covering the naked man's chest. The man himself appeared to be in a comatose state, although from time to time he groaned and stirred feverishly under the attempts to soothe his suffering.

There was another man in the room--a man of such appearance that he dominated it through his physical dimensions alone. In height he was a full seven inches beyond six feet, yet built proportionately so that he did not seem that tall. His wide shoulders seemed to fill the room, his body sloping to narrow hips and long powerful legs. His face was almost startlingly handsome, with a fierce regal cast to its large, sharp-lined features. Chill black eyes of exceptional brilliance burned from beneath heavy black brows that matched the thick, slightly curling growth above a high rounded forehead. It was the face of a man of strength and intelligence, a man ruthless and proud and yet who could be given to quixotic acts of kindness, a man dictatorial but usually just, a man incapable of brooking interference.

He was pacing the room now with quick restless strides, badly restrained anger riding his expression. Once a quick turn caused him to brush against one of four stools grouped about a wooden table set on four crossed timbers, and he kicked the stool viciously aside causing it to shatter against the wall.

At the sound of splintering wood the man on the bed cried out in such utter fear that his two attendants fell back. He did not appear fully conscious however and they resumed their attempts to ease his pain.

That cry of fear had altered the pacing of the tall man momentarily and he turned his burning eyes on the men at the bedside. "Is he awake?" he asked sharply, his deep voice beating against the walls like surf against a rocky sh.o.r.e.

One of the attendants shook his head nervously. "Not yet, Most-High. But soon now, I think. He is old and weak and the burns are grievous."

"Time is short and he must not die--yet."

"Yes, n.o.ble Jaltor."

Again there was silence within the room, broken only by the mutterings of the half-conscious man and the heavy tread of feet as Jaltor resumed his pacing....

A brief knock at the room's only door brought Jaltor around sharply.

"Enter!" he thundered.

The door opened and four guards came in. With them was a trim figured man a few years short of middle-age, his strong regular features impa.s.sive. As his escort halted he continued on into the room, pausing only when he stood facing Ammad's monarch.

"Greetings, n.o.ble Jaltor," he said quietly. "You sent for me?"

Anger and bewildered sorrow seemed to be fighting for dominance in the ruler's expression. "I thought you my friend, Garlud!" he burst out suddenly. "How could a senseless ambition so drive you that you would turn against your king?"

The blood seemed to drain from Garlud's cheeks and his eyes went wide in shocked wonder. "Turn against you?" he repeated, aghast. "What madness is this?"

Jaltor's eyes narrowed and a sneer curled his upper lip. "Before you add lies upon lies, Garlud, give greetings to a friend of yours."

With these words the king stepped aside, for the first time permitting Garlud to see the man on the bed.

The n.o.bleman's jaw dropped. "Why, it's old Heglar!" he exclaimed. "What in the G.o.d's name has happened to him?"

"What usually happens to enemies of Jaltor?"

Garlud took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You have spoken in riddles from the moment I came in here. For almost forty summers--since we were boys together--we have been more like brothers than friends. For that reason, if no other, I believe I am ent.i.tled to an explanation instead of badgering and half-veiled threats."

Jaltor's face darkened. "I'm the one who demands an explanation! Why did you set Heglar to attempt my life this afternoon?"

"I--set...."

"Do you deny," thundered the king, "that this very morning you held a long and carefully guarded conversation with Heglar in an ante-room outside my audience hall?"

"It is true that I spoke with him this morning," Garlud said slowly. "We did not talk for long, nor were we 'guarded' about it."

"I see!" Jaltor's tone was triumphant. "And what did the two of you talk about?"

"He sought me out as I entered the room on my way to the audience chamber. He drew me into a corner and asked if I had had word from Jotan, my son, recently. I told him I had not, but that I expected him to return within half a moon, perhaps even sooner."

Understanding dawned suddenly in Garlud's face and he added: "I wondered then why he drew me aside to ask the question, but at the time I thought little about it."

"And now?" Jaltor urged mockingly.

"I am beginning to see he had a reason of his own."

"You deny any part in the plot to kill me?"

"I do."

"But you knew there was such an attempt made this afternoon?"

"I heard some such rumor."

"But," persisted Jaltor, "you did not think it necessary that you learn if your friend--your _brother_, as you said a moment ago--had been injured in that attempt?"

"I was a.s.sured you were not even scratched," Garlud replied quietly.

"Humph!" Jaltor paced up and down a time or two, his face working, the great hands opening and closing spasmodically. Abruptly he stopped in front of the other and bent until his face almost touched Garlud's.

"Before you walked into this room, if anyone had asked for your opinion of Heglar what would you have said?"

"That I knew him well and liked and respected him."

"Would you have said he was an honorable man?"

"Certainly."

"Have you ever known him to tell a lie?"

"Not to my knowledge."