The Return of Tharn

  CHAPTER XIII

  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 spiritsplummet to a new low. Given another few minutes of grace and she wouldhave been out of this cul-de-sac and on her way to freedom.

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

  "What do you want? Who is it?" he called, impatience strong in hisusually 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 nobleman mutter. He threwopen the door, then stepped back suddenly as the cloaked form of a womanpushed 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." Hervoice, deep for a woman, sounded muffled through the folds of cloakshielding her face.

  Vokal obeyed, and when the door was shut she slipped from the wrap anddropped 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 delicatefeatures of her olive-skinned face. Her eyes were large and very blackand 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 doubtfor a moment but that he is dead. Why should we delay this thing anylonger. You promised me that once the old fool was dead I could take myrightful place as your mate. I say the time for that is now!"

  "But you don't understand, Rhoa. To acknowledge our love now would playdirectly into Jaltor's hands. Once our names are linked together he willrealize Heglar attempted to assassinate him because I hired him to doso."

  "I have given this a great deal of thought," Rhoa said coldly, "and Ithink 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 tothem you had no hand in old Heglar's disappearance."

  "You're not making sense!" Vokal cried. "The minute Jaltor hears we aretogether he will put enough of the threads in place to see the realpicture. He will guess that it was I who hired Heglar to attempt thatmock assassination in an effort to usurp Garlud's position in Ammad."

  He threw his hands wide in a gesture of despair. "In the name of theGod," he pleaded, "don't upset everything this short of success! Go backto your home, Rhoa. Give me a few suns--seven; no more than seven--andI 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 togetherwithout 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-rankingguard 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 andGarlud are held in the pits beneath Jaltor's palace. If they are, hewill arrange the deaths of both; if they are not there we can assumeboth are already dead and act accordingly. But first I must _know_,Rhoa."

  * * * * *

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

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

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

  "The guard, Most-High," said a voice, muffled by the planks. "A secondvisitor, who refused to give his name, awaits your pleasure."

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

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

  His breath of relief was clearly audible. "Good!" He went to the doorand 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 thefolds of her heavy cloak, swept regally through, past the staring guardand a short, barrel-chested man in the tunic of a guard of Jaltor'scourt.

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

  * * * * *

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

  But not to sleep. His thoughts were of his friend Jotan and the troublethat had befallen the young Ammadian noble. Tamar never doubted Garlud'sinnocence and he longed to take some action that would clear both fatherand son. In keeping with Jaltor's instructions he had told his ownfather nothing of what had taken place, letting him think Jotan had diedbeneath the claws and fangs of Sadu, the lion.

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

  "Who is there?" he called.

  "The corridor guard," said an apologetic voice. "A young woman wishes tospeak with you, noble Tamar. Upon an urgent matter, she says."

  Tamar crossed the room quickly and unbarred the door. Beyond thestalwart figure of the guard was the softly curved form of a woman whosehair was very black and who, despite the folds of a cloak held to shadowher 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 closedthe door. The nobleman helped her remove the cloak and she sank down ona 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. "Itried. 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 isbehind the plot against them." She leaned toward him, her face set withdetermined lines. "My uncle, it seems, is content to let them sufferuntil time works out the problem of who is guilty. I say Jotan and hisfather 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 wereattempting to interfere with his way of doing things ... well it couldbe too bad for us."

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

  He rose and began to pace the floor. "You're right. Let me think. Thereis an entrance to the corridors housing the pits of Jaltor's palace, anentrance supposedly secret, which Jotan himself once pointed out to me."

  He wheeled suddenly and entered his sleeping quarters, returning amoment later with a flint knife in a sheath at his belt and there wasthe light of battle in his eyes.

  "Return to your room, Alurna," he said grimly. "I will go to free Jotanand his men."

  She shook her head. "This was my idea and I'm going with you."

&nbs
p; "But--but this is dangerous! If I am caught I shall be thrown in thepits myself--perhaps killed. This is no venture for a woman!"

  "It is a venture for _this_ woman," she replied doggedly. "Jotan is tobe my mate ... even though he may not realize that yet. He must find mebeside you when we rescue him."

  For a long moment they stared into each other's eyes--then Tamar'sshoulder rose and fell in surrender.

  "As you wish," he said.

  * * * * *

  Sitab, warrior of the palace of Jaltor, moved stealthily down a steepramp. About him was darkness more intense than that of a tomb, forcinghim to feel his way with infinite slowness lest a misstep make a noiseloud enough to rouse one or more of the guards in the arms-rooms hereand there among the subterranean corridors.

  From one of his hands trailed a heavy spear; in the other was akeen-edged knife of flint ready for the first man who should find himwhere Sitab had no right to be.

  For whoever he came across now must die. It would not do for word toreach Jaltor on the morrow that Sitab, a trusted guard, had been seen onhis way to the pits.

  A miasmic odor of damp decay seemed to increase in strength the furtherbelow the earth's surface he progressed. Now and then a water rat wouldrustle across his path, its passage marked only by the rasp of claws onrock. Damp stretches of slippery surface proved difficult to negotiateand on several occasions he saved himself from falling only by a quickmovement of his feet. Now and then he would step into ankle-deep poolsof chill water, bringing an involuntary gasp to his lips.

  At long last his feet found no ramp where one should have been and herealized he now stood at the beginning of the deepest corridor beneaththe palace. For a long moment he stood there, his ears straining tocatch some sound of life. As from a great distance he caught the muffledsnores of sleeping men, the faint murmurings of troubled words from amind dreaming of the horrors to which it awakened after each sleep.

  Grasping his spear tighter, Sitab inched his way cautiously along thecorridor until his ears told him he was standing between twin rows ofcells. From the belt of his robe he drew a small length of tinder-likewood and from a pouch in the same belt came a small ball-like bit ofstone, its interior hollowed to hold a supply of moss in the center ofwhich glowed a single coal of fire. Drawing the perforated bit of woodserving as a cork, Sitab let the bit of fire roll out onto the miniaturetorch. It rested there, glowing redly as he breathed against it. When aminute of this had gone by a tiny tongue of fire rose to life and withinseconds the torch was fully lighted, dispelling the ink-like gloom abouthim.

  On silent feet Sitab moved from door to door of the cells. At eachbarred opening he let the rays of light seep into the tiny interior ofthe room beyond while his eyes sought to identify the sleeping men.

  Some he saw were hardly recognizable as human, so long had they lainprisoner in this awful hole. Matted hair hung over faces so thin andemaciated as hardly to be human at all. Others he saw were still inexcellent physical condition: these had been here only a little while.

  But none was familiar to him until he was well down the first row. As hepeered into this particular cell, he saw a man lying asleep on the barestone platform which served this cell, as in others, as a crude bunk.The sleeper's face was turned toward the wall, shadowed by a raised arm,so that Sitab was unable to make out the features. But something wasfamiliar about the man's general build and the shape of his head, andfor several minutes Sitab stood there waiting for the man to stir in hissleep sufficiently for his face to be seen.

  When full five minutes had passed without this taking place, Sitab brokea small piece of the rotting wood from his torch and flipped itunerringly through the barred grating of the door. It struck lightlyagainst the bare arm of the sleeper, and he sighed heavily, stirred,then turned his face toward the light.

  Sitab stiffened, waiting for the man to awake and cry out in alarm atthe glare of the torch. But the eyes did not open and the prisonerlapsed back into complete slumber. Only then did Sitab see who laysleeping there.

  It was Jotan.

  * * * * *

  A slight gasp escaped the guard's lips. Jotan _here_! But Jotan wasdead! Vokal himself had said as much.

  Sitab smiled. No matter that Vokal had been misinformed; Jotan would bedead within seconds. Vokal would reward him well for killing both Jotan_and_ Garlud--if the latter were imprisoned here as well.

  How best to kill him? Open the door, creep to the side of the sleepingman and plunge the spearhead into his heart? That would be the quietestway ... and also the most dangerous. What if Jotan were in realityawake--lying there waiting for this unknown visitor to enter the cell,then jumping upon him in a bid for freedom.

  A glance at those muscles, even though apparently relaxed in sleep, wasenough to give him his decision. Lifting his spear, he thrust its pointbetween the bars of the door, aimed it squarely at Jotan's exposedchest--and tensed his muscles to launch the heavy weapon.