The Return of Tharn Part 8

There was a short period of silence during which Vokal appeared to be making up his mind. Wavering light from candles set in wall brackets about the long, richly furnished room gave a lean, almost vulpine cast to his calm face and a glittering sparkle to his cold eyes. Finally he said:

"I want to make you a wealthy man again, Heglar."

The hand holding the wine goblet jerked involuntarily and some of the wrinkles in the aged face seemed to deepen. "... Why me?"

Vokal smiled dreamily. "Right to the point, eh, Heglar? It is one of my reasons for selecting you."

"Hmm." The old one looked down into his half-empty goblet to hide the sudden gleam in his eyes. "Tell me more of these reasons for wis.h.i.+ng to make me rich."

"The list is long," Vokal said graciously, "so I shall give only the princ.i.p.al ones. First, it is well known throughout all Ammad that you are a man of your word--that once you give a pledge nothing in this world 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 dead man, that you have only a few moons left to live because of the sickness in your throat." At the other's startled expression he waved a languid hand. "It is common knowledge, n.o.ble Heglar; your physician is a talkative man."

"Thirdly," he continued, his voice calm, almost indifferent, "your long and honorable career as a mighty warrior proves you a man of great physical courage, and you are still strong and active enough for a dangerous task."

A wry smile touched the old man's lips. "Then I am expected to earn this wealth you are offering me?"

"Of course. I am not noted for being a charitable man, n.o.ble Heglar."

"... Are there other reasons?"

"Lastly," Vokal said imperturbably, "as a n.o.bleman you have the freedom of 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 a long moment they stared into each other's eyes in silence.

Heglar was the first to speak. "Now that you have listed my qualifications, what use do you expect to put them to?"

Vokal bent forward and fixed him with his penetrating gaze. "I must call upon the first of them before this conversation can go any further. Will you give me your solemn pledge that not one word of this will go beyond the two of us?"

"... Yes."

"Good. I want you to forfeit the few remaining moons of life left to you."

Heglar blinked. It was the sole sign of emotion aroused by that startling declaration. "Those few moons are priceless to me, n.o.ble Vokal," 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 fingers lightly together, looking over them at the old man. His eyes had gone back to being dreamy again. He said:

"I want you to _attempt_ the a.s.sa.s.sination of Jaltor, king of Ammad!"

The breath left Heglar's lungs in an explosive gasp. "What madness is this!" he cried hoa.r.s.ely. "Why do you want Jaltor dead? Certainly his death would not better your position as a n.o.ble in the court. His son would take the throne; and even if something happened to _him_, his sister would be next in line. Are you planning to do away with the entire royal family, n.o.ble Vokal?"

Vokal was shaking his head. "I'm afraid you did not understand me, my friend. I said that I wanted you to _attempt_ Jaltor's a.s.sa.s.sination--not to kill him."

"This makes no sense to me!"

"It is very simple. I want you to attend one of Jaltor's morning audiences within the next day or two. Work your way close to him, draw a knife and make a clumsy attempt to stab him. But be sure you fail. The guards will overpower you instantly; and when Jaltor demands to know why you tried to kill him, refuse to answer other than to hint that you were not alone in the plot."

"Knowing Jaltor as we both do, he will order you put to torture in an effort to learn the facts. Endure that torture as long as you possibly can. Then blurt out the name of the man who hired you."

Heglar was watching him through narrowed eyes. "I'm beginning to see the light," he said dourly. "The name I give him will be that of the man you are really after."

"Exactly."

"Whereupon I will be put to death."

"Jaltor has never been famed for his leniency, n.o.ble Heglar."

The old man drained his goblet of wine and put it on the table with a steady hand. "At least he is a just man. He would punish only those he believed implicated in the plot; my family would not be persecuted." He seemed to be speaking to himself. "Rhoa would be a wealthy woman and my children would never know want or hards.h.i.+p...."

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 male slaves--but Vokal never hesitated. "I will pay it, n.o.ble Heglar," he said quietly.

"In advance."

"As you wish. I need no a.s.surance beyond your word that you will carry out the exact terms of the arrangement."

Heglar sighed. "You have my word.... What name will Jaltor's torture wring from my reluctant lips?"

"That of the n.o.ble Garlud."

"Oho!" Heglar nodded in tribute. "That clears up the picture. Garlud is second only to Jaltor as the most powerful man in all Ammad. With him out of the way, you, as the next in line among Ammad's n.o.blemen, will take Garlud's place and all the benefits that go with it. I congratulate you, n.o.ble 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 mention it, for a man as thorough as you has doubtless antic.i.p.ated that flaw and taken 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's position 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, since Garlud's mate died over a moon ago, his wealth returns to the State, except for the palace which is given to the next n.o.bleman in line."

"Precisely."

"Uh-hunh. Do you know for sure that Garlud's son--let's see: his name is ... ah--"

"Jotan."