"It may mean nothing, however," Jaltor went on, "for the way in which it came up was both necessary and natural. To make it even more likely to amount to nothing, the nobleman was Vokal—a man I have never hesitated to trust."
"Garlud once enjoyed a similar distinction," Curzad commented dryly.
Jaltor's eyes flashed. "Do you forget that Garlud was named by a man whose word had never been doubted?"
"I forget nothing, Most-High," was the quiet reply.
A moment's silence followed, then Jaltor said, "Well, a few more days, one way or the other, will not matter. If Vokal is the man we are looking for, he will make another attempt at learning Garlud's whereabouts. So far he is our only lead—other than old Heglar's beautiful mate, Rhoa. Twice she has come to me, asking what has happened to him, and both times I have refused to say. Oddly enough," he added thoughtfully, "she seemed more curious than worried."
"Perhaps it would be wise to have her watched."
The monarch gave a brief snort of laughter. "I am not completely a fool, my friend. Rhoa has been under constant surveillance since the day old Heglar died. Thus far her actions have been above suspicion."
Curzad's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "Meanwhile," he said, "Garlud's son, Jotan, draws closer to Ammad. Any sun now he and his men may approach its gates."
"Which is one of the reasons I sent for you. Shortly before Dyta brings his light tomorrow, send fifty of your most trusted warriors to intercept and take captive Jotan and his men. Return them to Ammad under cover of darkness and confine them all in the pits. It might be wise to place Jotan in the cell next his father and a trusted warrior in a neighboring cell to listen in on their conversations."
"You'll never trick Garlud so easily."