The Return of Tharn Part 34

SITAB'S MISTAKE

As the sound of knocking rang through Vokal's private apartment, Dylara, crouching on the small balcony off the central room, felt her spirits plummet to a new low. Given another few minutes of grace and she would have been out of this cul-de-sac and on her way to freedom.

Again came the knock, louder this time. She heard a muttered exclamation from the bedroom, then Vokal, tying the belt of his tunic, crossed quickly to the corridor door.

"What do you want? Who is it?" he called, impatience strong in his usually calm voice.

"Your pardon, Most-High," said a humble-sounding voice, "but a visitor, bearing your personal talisman, insists on seeing you at once."

"It must be that fool Sitab," Dylara heard the n.o.bleman mutter. He threw open the door, then stepped back suddenly as the cloaked form of a woman pushed her way into the room.

"Rhoa!" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk to you. Send the guard away and close the door." Her voice, deep for a woman, sounded m.u.f.fled through the folds of cloak shielding her face.

Vokal obeyed, and when the door was shut she slipped from the wrap and dropped it across the back of a nearby chair.

She was a woman past thirty, taller than average and beautifully formed.

Her hair was a dull black and she wore it long, framing the delicate features of her olive-skinned face. Her eyes were large and very black and at this moment there was anger in them.

"What are you doing here?" Vokal said again.

"It is fairly simple," she said imperiously. "I am tired of waiting, Vokal. For half a moon now old Heglar has been missing. I do not doubt for a moment but that he is dead. Why should we delay this thing any longer. You promised me that once the old fool was dead I could take my rightful place as your mate. I say the time for that is now!"

"But you don't understand, Rhoa. To acknowledge our love now would play directly into Jaltor's hands. Once our names are linked together he will realize Heglar attempted to a.s.sa.s.sinate him because I hired him to do so."

"I have given this a great deal of thought," Rhoa said coldly, "and I think you're being overly cautious. Let the good people of Ammad talk; the mere fact that we take no trouble to conceal our love will prove to them you had no hand in old Heglar's disappearance."

"You're not making sense!" Vokal cried. "The minute Jaltor hears we are together he will put enough of the threads in place to see the real picture. He will guess that it was I who hired Heglar to attempt that mock a.s.sa.s.sination in an effort to usurp Garlud's position in Ammad."

He threw his hands wide in a gesture of despair. "In the name of the G.o.d," he pleaded, "don't upset everything this short of success! Go back to your home, Rhoa. Give me a few suns--seven; no more than seven--and I promise you I will have things worked out the way we both want them.

Do this for me because I love you and you love me and we can be together without fear of Jaltor."

"How can you know seven days will be time enough?" she asked doubtfully.

"In a few minutes I am expecting a visit from Sitab, a high-ranking guard of Jaltor's court," he explained. "He is in my employ, secretly, and will do as I wish. I shall instruct him to learn if Heglar and Garlud are held in the pits beneath Jaltor's palace. If they are, he will arrange the deaths of both; if they are not there we can a.s.sume both are already dead and act accordingly. But first I must _know_, Rhoa."

She stood there, erect and beautiful in the shimmering radiance of candle light, indecision plain in her face. "When will this man Sitab get the information for you?"

"Tonight! Between the hour I discuss the problem with him and the hour of dawn. You will do this my way, Rhoa?"

A discreet knock at the door interrupted her reply. Vokal, sudden alarm plain in his face, stiffened. "Who is there?"

"The guard, Most-High," said a voice, m.u.f.fled by the planks. "A second visitor, who refused to give his name, awaits your pleasure."

"It is Sitab," Vokal told the woman, whispering. "Will you give me those seven suns, Rhoa? Will you go now, and be patient for that long? What is your answer?"

Abruptly she nodded. "Seven suns, Vokal. But no more than seven."

His breath of relief was clearly audible. "Good!" He went to the door and drew the bar. "Hide your face so that none may know who you are.

Goodbye."

He drew open the heavy door and the woman, her face concealed by the folds of her heavy cloak, swept regally through, past the staring guard and a short, barrel-chested man in the tunic of a guard of Jaltor's court.

Vokal, his handsome face completely without expression, crooked a finger at the latter. "Enter, my friend," he said cordially. "You have arrived at exactly the right time."

Shortly after arriving at the palace of his father, following the surprising interview with Jaltor, ruler of Ammad, Tamar had gone to his room and his bed.

But not to sleep. His thoughts were of his friend Jotan and the trouble that had befallen the young Ammadian n.o.ble. Tamar never doubted Garlud's innocence and he longed to take some action that would clear both father and son. In keeping with Jaltor's instructions he had told his own father nothing of what had taken place, letting him think Jotan had died beneath the claws and fangs of Sadu, the lion.

After more than two hours of fitful tossing, Tamar rose from his bed and entered the living room of his suite. He was standing at one of the windows overlooking sleeping Ammad, when a discreet knock at the door startled him out of his reverie.

"Who is there?" he called.

"The corridor guard," said an apologetic voice. "A young woman wishes to speak with you, n.o.ble Tamar. Upon an urgent matter, she says."

Tamar crossed the room quickly and unbarred the door. Beyond the stalwart figure of the guard was the softly curved form of a woman whose hair was very black and who, despite the folds of a cloak held to shadow her face, seemed young and beautiful....

"Alurna!" Tamar gasped incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

She shook her head warningly, entered and waited until Tamar had closed the door. The n.o.bleman helped her remove the cloak and she sank down on a nearby stool.

"I thought you would be sleeping," she said, smiling a little.

Trouble clouded his fine eyes. "I could not sleep," he said huskily. "I tried. But I keep thinking...."

"Of Jotan," the girl finished. "And his father. We must help them, Tamar. We must not leave them to rot in the pits of Ammad."

"But what can we do?"

"Do you know how to reach the pits without being seen?"

He stared at her. "What difference would that make?"

"Why can't we free them, Tamar? Give them a chance to learn who is behind the plot against them." She leaned toward him, her face set with determined lines. "My uncle, it seems, is content to let them suffer until time works out the problem of who is guilty. I say Jotan and his father should be allowed to do something themselves to hurry matters!"

"But there's no way----"

"Are you sure? Have you thought about it before this?"

He hesitated. "No-o. But it could mean imprisonment for us if we fail, Alurna. Jaltor can be completely ruthless; if he learned we were attempting to interfere with his way of doing things ... well it could be too bad for us."

Color crept into her cheeks but she met his eyes resolutely. "Jotan means enough to me to risk that," she said flatly. "Do _you_ feel that way?"