Part 36 (2/2)

”He may not be on this level,” Tamar said. ”We could spend hours hunting him. The thing to do would be to go to Jaltor----”

But Jotan was already on his way along the corridor, peering in at the occupant of each.

Minutes later there was a sizable group of men freed from the cells and grouped about Jotan and Tamar. Among them was Garlud, Jotan's father, his gaunt face wreathed in smiles, his strength, sapped by long days of imprisonment, flowing back at the realization he was free and in possession of the name of the man who had brought about his downfall.

The others were those members of Jotan's party who had accompanied him from far-off Sephar, released from their brief imprisonment and ready for action.

Tamar said, ”And now we can go to Jaltor and tell him what happened!”

”We shall have to take this man”--Jotan pointed to the fallen and unmoving body of Sitab--”to Jaltor as our only witness against Vokal.”

Garlud said, ”It is hard to believe that Vokal is the one behind all this trouble. We have been friends for many years, all of Ammad loves him, even Jaltor admires him more than almost any n.o.ble of the court.”

”He is behind the plot against us, father,” Jotan said sharply. ”There can be no doubt about it.”

”We shall need overwhelming proof.”

”Our proof lies there.” Jotan waved a hand at the motionless bulk near the wall. ”Get him on his feet, somebody; it's time he told his story to Jaltor, king of Ammad!”

Tamar bent above the fallen man and shook him. ”Come! You've rested long enough!”

But Sitab did not move and Tamar shook him again, harder this time, and repeated the order. Then suddenly the young n.o.ble was kneeling beside the still form of the guard and placing a hand against the tunic over his heart.

In the silence Tamar rose to his feet and met the stricken eyes of his friends. ”He is dead,” he said simply.

”There dies our proof,” Garlud said glumly. ”Now it is our word against Vokal's.”

”No!” Jotan swung around to face his father and Tamar. ”There is another way. We can go to Vokal's palace, pull him from his bed and force him to confess!”

”And what of Vokal's loyal guards and warriors?” Garlud said soberly.

”Do you think they will idly stand aside and permit that?”

Jotan swept out his hand in a half circle. ”Here are fifty men--stalwart warriors all. And in your own palace, father, are hundreds more. I say let us go to our own palace, gather together our warriors and march upon Vokal!”

”You forget,” Garlud said softly, ”that I am regarded as an enemy of the State. As such, my palace and possessions are confiscated and my warriors stripped of their weapons and confined to quarters.”

”Jotan,” said a quiet voice from behind them.

The group of men standing about the subterranean corridor beneath the palace of Jaltor of Ammad, turned as the quiet voice reached their ears.

Standing at the barred opening of one of the locked cells, the strong handsome face, visible in the light of the late Sitab's torch, was Tharn, a slight smile on his lips.

”Who calls my name?” demanded the young n.o.ble, stepping nearer the door of the cell.

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