Part 30 (2/2)

Silence seemed to press down upon them, a silence so complete they could hear the breath rustling in their nostrils.

With almost exaggerated care Trakor drew back the door. Moonlight streaming in at several stone-barred windows revealed a large hall, its walls hung with rich tapestries and a long wide table, lined with chairs, running almost its entire length.

Dylara, familiar with such scenes from her days in Sephar, said, ”The palace dining hall.” She pointed to an open doorway in the opposite wall. ”That should lead to the kitchens. No one will be there at this time of night.”

”Good!”

They crossed quickly to the designated opening, along a short narrow hall, through a second doorway and on into a low-ceilinged room whose furnis.h.i.+ngs bore mute testimony that Dylara's guess had been right.

”Look!” whispered Dylara, pointing.

Thin lines of moonlight formed a rectangle on the far wall, marking a doorway leading to open air. Quickly Trakor was across the kitchen and straining to lift the heavy bar from its catches.

And in that moment a sudden chorus of deep-throated shouts of alarm from beyond that door reached their ears.

CHAPTER XII

NO DEEPER DUNGEON

Jaltor, king of all Ammad, rose from his chair as his four visitors entered the apartment. Straight and tall he stood, his magnificent body in its purple-edged tunic seeming to dwarf all else within the room.

No one spoke. Curzad, captain of the palace guards, closed the door softly and stood with his back against it, arms folded and his rugged features empty of all expression.

It was Jotan, son of Garlud, who was the first to speak. The anger that showed in his burning eyes and the thrust of his chin thickened his words until they were more nearly a growl.

”What means this, Jaltor? Why was my party intercepted outside Ammad's walls and dragged here in secrecy? Why are we thus treated like common criminals? I demand an explanation!”

”You may request an explanation, Jotan,” Jaltor said calmly. ”As Ammad's king I answer no man's demands.”

In the strained silence following his words, Jaltor's gaze moved on to where Alurna, daughter of Urim and princess of Sephar, stood staring at him in wonder and uncertainty. His expression softened and when he spoke his voice had lost completely its former edge.

”Curzad has told me of your father's death. We have both suffered a great loss, for Urim was my brother--my only brother. Later I should like to know the details of his pa.s.sing; but first I wish to explain my reasons for what has happened tonight.”

There were mixed emotions evident in the expressions of his listeners.

Tamar was clearly worried and puzzled, Javan appeared even more dazed and uncomprehending than usual, while Jotan was close to bursting with outright anger and injured pride.

Jaltor indicated chairs with a wave of his hand. ”Be seated, please.

This may take some time.”

They obeyed in silence, and even though sitting none of them was relaxed. Jaltor remained on his feet, legs spread, his keen eyes somber.

”A little less than half a moon ago,” Jaltor began, ”an attempt was made to a.s.sa.s.sinate me. The reason it was not successful lay in the peculiar clumsiness of the a.s.sa.s.sin. He was captured immediately and put to torture in an effort to learn the names of others, if any, involved in the plot. He was an old man, strangely enough, and before he died he told me who had hired him.”

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