CHAPTER XIII
SITAB'S MISTAKE
As the sound of knocking rang through Vokal's private apartment, Dylara, crouching on the small balcony off the central room, felt her spirits plummet to a new low. Given another few minutes of grace and she would have been out of this cul-de-sac and on her way to freedom.
Again came the knock, louder this time. She heard a muttered exclamation from the bedroom, then Vokal, tying the belt of his tunic, crossed quickly to the corridor door.
"What do you want? Who is it?" he called, impatience strong in his usually calm voice.
"Your pardon, Most-High," said a humble-sounding voice, "but a visitor, bearing your personal talisman, insists on seeing you at once."
"It must be that fool Sitab," Dylara heard the nobleman mutter. He threw open the door, then stepped back suddenly as the cloaked form of a woman pushed her way into the room.
"Rhoa!" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"I want to talk to you. Send the guard away and close the door." Her voice, deep for a woman, sounded muffled through the folds of cloak shielding her face.
Vokal obeyed, and when the door was shut she slipped from the wrap and dropped it across the back of a nearby chair.