"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 passing; 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 assassinate me. The reason it was not successful lay in the peculiar clumsiness of the assassin. 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."
"I don't see," Jotan burst out, "what this has to do with any of us. Certainly we are not involved."
"The name he gave," Jaltor went on, as though there had been no interruption, "was Garlud!"
In the sudden, shocked silence that followed the measured tread of a guard in the corridor outside came clearly through the closed door.