CHAPTER IV
THE SEEDS OF TREACHERY
Otar, a warrior in the service of Vokal, a powerful and high-rankingnobleman of the city of Ammad, was violently unhappy this night. Hissandaled feet beat an angry rhythm against the pavement in front of thearched opening in the high stone wall about his master's estate. Thirtypaces one way, an about face executed with the military precision Vokaldemanded of his guards, then thirty paces back again, spear held rigidlyacross his tunic-clad chest.
The velvety blackness of a moonless night weighted the street andmatched his mood--a blackness only intensified by the feeble yellow raysof a lantern in a niche above the gate. Silently he cursed the captainof the guards who had demoted him to night sentry duty, then he cursedVokal for his mad judgment in picking so heartless a captain to beginwith.
There was a sound reason for Otar's unhappiness. Only the day before hehad taken a mate--the incomparable Marua, daughter of one of Vokal'sunderstewards--Marua, whose exquisite blonde beauty and matchless formhad brought her a host of male admirers, many of them in high positionsin Vokal's service. Among them was Ekbar, captain of the nobleman'sguards; and therein, Otar knew, lay the reason why he was walking amidnight post outside Vokal's sprawling estate. The thought of hislovely new mate alone in his snug apartment in the guard's quarterswhile he paced away the hours brought a fresh flood of curses to hislips.
"Greetings," said a hoarse whispering voice behind him.
Otar, startled, whirled and leveled his spear in one rapid motion. "Whospeaks?" he growled.
An indistinct figure, muffled to the chin in a black cloak, was standingin the street only a foot or two beyond reach of the questing spearhead.
"Fear not," said the harsh voice. "It is I--Heglar, nobleman of Ammad. Iam here to hold an audience with the noble Vokal. At his own invitation.Here." He held out his hand from under the cloak and something gleamedfrom the center of his palm in the faint light. "Examine this by therays from yonder lantern."
Cautiously, his heavy spear ready in his right hand, Otar took theobject and backed away until he could see it clearly. His carefulmaneuvering was in line with orders, for attempts at assassination werefairly common among Ammad's nobles in their ceaseless efforts for powersecond only to Jaltor himself, king of all Ammad.
A single glance was all Otar needed. It was Vokal's personal talisman: asmall square of gold bearing on one side a peculiar design cut in thesoft metal. No humblest warrior in all Vokal's vast retinue who did notknow that design and his duties when faced with it.
He returned the talisman to the man who called himself Heglar andstepped back, bringing his spear sharply to a saluting position. "Youmay pass, noble Heglar. This path will bring you to a side door ofVokal's palace. The guard there will see to it that you are taken tohim."
* * * * *
Vokal stood on a small balcony of stone outside his private apartment onthe fourth level of his huge, many-roomed palace. He was a tall slendergraceful man in his early fifties, with a narrow face, small cameo-sharpfeatures and a languid almost dreamy quality in his movements andexpression. Prematurely gray hair waved back from a brow of classicalperfection, and the hand he lifted to smooth that hair was narrow andlong fingered and beautifully kept. He was wearing the knee-length tuniccommon to all men and women of Ammad, but his was of a better weave, itsbelt of the same material was a full two inches wider and trimmed withthe purple of Ammadian royalty.
From this elevated position he was able to look out over the northernsection of the city of Ammad--a vast orderly array of box-like stonebuildings, some gray and some white, rising one to three floors abovethe streets. Fully five miles from where Vokal stood was the northernsection of the great gray wall of stone encircling the city, and thebuildings became smaller and simpler in design the nearer they were tothat wall.
A man's position in Ammad was determined by how near the city's centerhis dwelling stood. At the metropolis' exact center was the mammothpalace of Jaltor, king of Ammad and supreme ruler of a vast country ofjungle, plain and mountain extending a moon's march in all directions.Like Vokal's own palace, Jaltor's rose from the crest of one of thecity's five hills; but the king's, in addition to being at the exactcenter of Ammad, stood on the highest of them all. It could be seen fromthe windows on the opposite side of Vokal's palace--the principal reasonhis personal quarters were here. Sight of that huge sprawling pile ofwhite stone, its roof six levels above the ground, was a constant sourceof irritation to him.
A sound of soft knocking from behind him aroused Vokal from his reverie,and he turned unhurriedly and re-entered the room.
The knocking was repeated. Vokal sank gracefully into an easy chaircovered with the soft pelt of Tarlok, the leopard, crossed his shapelybare legs and studied the effect with approval.
Again the sound of knocking, a shade louder this time. "Enter," calledVokal around a yawn which he covered with the tips of two fingers.
A door opened, revealing the rigidly erect figure and carefullyexpressionless visage of an officer of the palace guard.
Vokal concluded his yawn. "Yes, Bartan?"
"The noble Heglar is here, Most-High."
"Excellent! Permit him to enter immediately."
The guard executed a sharp quarter turn and stepped back, allowing a manswathed to the chin in the voluminous folds of a black cloak to pushpast him into the room.
"Greetings, noble Vokal." The words came out in a hoarse croak thatgrated against the host's sensitive ears.
"Greetings, noble Heglar." Vokal's smile seemed even dreamier thanusual. "Remove your cloak, please, and be seated.... Bartan, tell aslave to bring us wine."
"At once, Most-High." The guard withdrew, closing the door softly.
Vokal's gray-blue eyes went to his guest and he smiled blandly. "Itrust all is well with you and the members of your family, nobleHeglar."
* * * * *
Stripped of his cloak, Heglar was revealed as a man of extraordinarythinness and considerable age. The pronounced hollows in his cheeks anda thin nose the dimensions of an eagle's beak, together with the rockyridge of an underslung jaw, gave him an emaciated look. But his body wasstraight as a young sapling, his shoulders for all their boniness weresurprisingly broad, and his light blue eyes were alert and piercing.
He ignored his host's solicitous inquiry concerning his family and bentand unknotted the thongs of his heelless sandals. Kicking them off heleaned back in his chair and, sighing with relief, placed his bare feeton a low stool in front of him.
If he caught the faint wrinkle of disgust about Vokal's shapely lips heignored it. "You'll forgive an old man for humoring his feet," hecroaked. "I'm not accustomed to long walks these days."
"By all means give them comfort."
"I tried to learn from your messenger the reason behind your asking mehere tonight. He would tell me nothing--simply gave me your message,handed me your emblem piece--" he dug a hand into a pocket of the tunic,took out the square of gold and handed it to Vokal--"and left withoutanother word."
"You could hardly expect one of my men to do otherwise," Vokal saidfrostily.
"One never knows." The old man settled himself more comfortably in hischair. "I was curious and a little doubtful at the interest of the thirdmost powerful man in all Ammad--especially when his interest concernsthe most impoverished and least influential noble of that same country."
There was a soft knock at the door and a slave girl slipped in, placed atray of wine and two goblets on a low table between the two men, andwent out as silently as she had entered.
Heglar's eyes followed her trim figure until the gently closing doorshut off his view. "Believe me," he said, watching Vokal fill the twogoblets, "there was a day I had slaves like that one. Many slaves--andmore warriors than any noble in all Ammad. Only old Rokkor himself,Jaltor's father, had more of them."
He sighed gustily. "But that's all in the past now. My only regret isthat I must leave
my young mate and our two children with little morethan a roof above their heads when I die."
"Your love for the gracious and beautiful Rhoa is well known throughoutall Ammad," Vokal murmured, handing his guest one of the filled goblets.
The old man gulped a third of its contents before taking the containerfrom his lips. "And why shouldn't I love her?" he demanded harshly."Thirty summers my junior, lovely enough to have her pick of men--andshe chooses me. Forty summers I spent with my first woman--and what asour-faced old hyena _she_ was--and not a child to show for it. Now wehave two, Rhoa and I--and I have nothing to leave them but a miserablehovel in place of the palace I once owned."
Vokal sipped daintily from his goblet and let the garrulous old manramble on. Let him go on bemoaning his lowly position and living overhis past glories. Every word of it would make the old one more agreeableto Vokal's proposition.
The nostalgic refrain went on until Heglar had emptied his firstglass of wine and extended it for a second helping. This time hespilled a few drops on the floor as a voluntary offering to theGod-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud--a tribute given usually onlyduring formal dinners--gulped down several swallows of the alcoholicgrape beverage, then turned those sharp eyes on Vokal.
"But," he said hoarsely, "you didn't ask me here to talk of the olddays. What do you want of me, noble Vokal?"
* * * * *
There was a short period of silence during which Vokal appeared to bemaking up his mind. Wavering light from candles set in wall bracketsabout the long, richly furnished room gave a lean, almost vulpine castto his calm face and a glittering sparkle to his cold eyes. Finally hesaid:
"I want to make you a wealthy man again, Heglar."
The hand holding the wine goblet jerked involuntarily and some of thewrinkles in the aged face seemed to deepen. "... Why me?"
Vokal smiled dreamily. "Right to the point, eh, Heglar? It is one of myreasons for selecting you."
"Hmm." The old one looked down into his half-empty goblet to hide thesudden gleam in his eyes. "Tell me more of these reasons for wishing tomake me rich."
"The list is long," Vokal said graciously, "so I shall give only theprincipal ones. First, it is well known throughout all Ammad that youare a man of your word--that once you give a pledge nothing in thisworld or the next could force you to go back on your word."
Heglar scowled. "One of the reasons I am a poor man today!"
"Secondly," Vokal went on, "it is reported that you are a walking deadman, that you have only a few moons left to live because of the sicknessin your throat." At the other's startled expression he waved a languidhand. "It is common knowledge, noble Heglar; your physician is atalkative man."
"Thirdly," he continued, his voice calm, almost indifferent, "your longand honorable career as a mighty warrior proves you a man of greatphysical courage, and you are still strong and active enough for adangerous task."
A wry smile touched the old man's lips. "Then I am expected to earn thiswealth you are offering me?"
"Of course. I am not noted for being a charitable man, noble Heglar."
"... Are there other reasons?"
"Lastly," Vokal said imperturbably, "as a nobleman you have the freedomof Jaltor's court and may come and go there as you please."
He looked sharply at the older man as he finished speaking and for along moment they stared into each other's eyes in silence.
Heglar was the first to speak. "Now that you have listed myqualifications, what use do you expect to put them to?"
Vokal bent forward and fixed him with his penetrating gaze. "I must callupon the first of them before this conversation can go any further. Willyou give me your solemn pledge that not one word of this will go beyondthe two of us?"
"... Yes."
"Good. I want you to forfeit the few remaining moons of life left toyou."
Heglar blinked. It was the sole sign of emotion aroused by thatstartling declaration. "Those few moons are priceless to me, nobleVokal," he said, a faint smile hovering about his lips.
"I am prepared to pay heavily for them."
"You would have to.... What do you want me to do?"
Vokal leaned back in his chair and placed the tips of his fingerslightly together, looking over them at the old man. His eyes had goneback to being dreamy again. He said:
"I want you to _attempt_ the assassination of Jaltor, king of Ammad!"
The breath left Heglar's lungs in an explosive gasp. "What madness isthis!" he cried hoarsely. "Why do you want Jaltor dead? Certainly hisdeath would not better your position as a noble in the court. His sonwould take the throne; and even if something happened to _him_, hissister would be next in line. Are you planning to do away with theentire royal family, noble Vokal?"
Vokal was shaking his head. "I'm afraid you did not understandme, my friend. I said that I wanted you to _attempt_ Jaltor'sassassination--not to kill him."
"This makes no sense to me!"
"It is very simple. I want you to attend one of Jaltor's morningaudiences within the next day or two. Work your way close to him, draw aknife and make a clumsy attempt to stab him. But be sure you fail. Theguards will overpower you instantly; and when Jaltor demands to know whyyou tried to kill him, refuse to answer other than to hint that you werenot alone in the plot."
"Knowing Jaltor as we both do, he will order you put to torture in aneffort to learn the facts. Endure that torture as long as you possiblycan. Then blurt out the name of the man who hired you."
Heglar was watching him through narrowed eyes. "I'm beginning to see thelight," he said dourly. "The name I give him will be that of the man youare really after."
"Exactly."
"Whereupon I will be put to death."
"Jaltor has never been famed for his leniency, noble Heglar."
* * * * *
The old man drained his goblet of wine and put it on the table with asteady hand. "At least he is a just man. He would punish only those hebelieved implicated in the plot; my family would not be persecuted." Heseemed to be speaking to himself. "Rhoa would be a wealthy woman and mychildren would never know want or hardship...."
His eyes came slowly up to Vokal. "My price will be one thousand tals!"
It was a staggering amount--the equivalent of twelve thousand young maleslaves--but Vokal never hesitated. "I will pay it, noble Heglar," hesaid quietly.
"In advance."
"As you wish. I need no assurance beyond your word that you will carryout the exact terms of the arrangement."
Heglar sighed. "You have my word.... What name will Jaltor's torturewring from my reluctant lips?"
"That of the noble Garlud."
"Oho!" Heglar nodded in tribute. "That clears up the picture. Garlud issecond only to Jaltor as the most powerful man in all Ammad. With himout of the way, you, as the next in line among Ammad's noblemen, willtake Garlud's place and all the benefits that go with it. I congratulateyou, noble Vokal, on your shrewdness."
They filled their earthen goblets and drank. After a moment Heglar said,"There is one drawback to your plan, my friend. I hesitate to mentionit, for a man as thorough as you has doubtless anticipated that flaw andtaken steps to overcome it."
"No man is perfect," Vokal said equably. "To what do you refer?"
"Garlud has a son. As is our custom he will inherit his father'sposition and estate even though Garlud is executed for treason."
"And if the son is dead also?" Vokal said silkily.
"So you _have_ thought of it! I might have known. In that case, sinceGarlud's mate died over a moon ago, his wealth returns to the State,except for the palace which is given to the next nobleman in line."
"Precisely."
"Uh-hunh. Do you know for sure that Garlud's son--let's see: his name is... ah--"
"Jotan."
"Of course. A fine young man too--as I remember him. You're sure he'sdead?"
"If not, he soon will be."
"But he
is not in Ammad, I understand. Didn't he make a trip to Sephar,Vokal?"
"He is due back within half a moon at the earliest."
"How will you handle the matter when he arrives at Ammad's gates?"
Vokal smiled his dreamy smile. "He will not arrive at Ammad's gates, OHeglar! The day you attempt Jaltor's assassination a party of my mosttrusted guards will leave Ammad to intercept Jotan and his men. Theirorders will be to leave not one of them alive."
"It is clear that you have thought of everything!" The old man gulpeddown his wine and stood up. "It is late, and at my age I need a greatdeal of sleep--especially if I am to be tortured by Jaltor's experts inthat line! So, if you will pay me my thousand tals, noble Vokal, I shallleave you."
"Of course." Vokal rose smoothly to his feet, went to the door andsummoned a guard outside. "Arouse Yodak and instruct him to bring athousand tals to me here."
"At once, Most-High." The guard saluted and went quickly down the hall.
Heglar was shaking his head admiringly. "You take some long chances,Vokal!"
The gray-haired nobleman glanced sharply at him. "What do you mean?"
"This matter of your guards calling you 'Most-High'. That is a mark ofrespect given only to kings, you know. I doubt if Jaltor would approveof your appropriating it to your own use."
* * * * *
The other's blue-gray eyes seemed to film over. "Kings have been knownto die, noble Heglar--and at times the ranking nobleman takes his place.One must prepare for every possibility."
"Even to having one's guards form the habit of saying Most-High, eh?"
The arrival of a small frail-bodied old man in hastily donned tunicended the conversation. He was bearing a small cloth bag which gave offthe sounds of clinking metal.
"The thousand tals, Most-High," he quavered, holding out the bag.
Vokal took it and dismissed the man. "... Would you care to count them?"he said upon placing the bag in Heglar's hands.
"It is not necessary," the old man said, then smiling, added: "You needmy specialized services too badly to cheat me!"
Vokal summoned a guard and instructed him to appoint several warriors toescort the old man safely to his home, as robbery under cover of nightwas far from unusual on Ammad's numerous streets.
When the door had closed and Vokal was alone once more, he returned tohis chair and filled his wine cup. "A thousand tals," he mused."Heglar's assistance comes high indeed. But let him fondle them for alittle while before they come back to me--along with the lovely Rhoa. Iwonder what the old man would say if he knew his mate has been mymistress these past three moons!"
The Return of Tharn Page 4
