A slight gasp escaped the guard's lips. Jotan here! But Jotan was dead! Vokal himself had said as much.
Sitab smiled. No matter that Vokal had been misinformed; Jotan would be dead within seconds. Vokal would reward him well for killing both Jotan and Garlud—if the latter were imprisoned here as well.
How best to kill him? Open the door, creep to the side of the sleeping man and plunge the spearhead into his heart? That would be the quietest way ... and also the most dangerous. What if Jotan were in reality awake—lying there waiting for this unknown visitor to enter the cell, then jumping upon him in a bid for freedom.
A glance at those muscles, even though apparently relaxed in sleep, was enough to give him his decision. Lifting his spear, he thrust its point between the bars of the door, aimed it squarely at Jotan's exposed chest—and tensed his muscles to launch the heavy weapon.
CHAPTER XIV
AMBUSH
For a long time after Sitab was gone, Vokal remained seated on a low bench in the living room of his apartment. Worry was crowding in on his mind, the ambition that had led him into discrediting Garlud was proving itself a curse, and his love for Rhoa, wife of old Heglar, was now a burdensome thing that had cost him a thousand tals and might end up costing him his life.
Well, the die was cast now; there was no turning back. Dawn was no more than two or three hours away; long before Dyta's golden rays flooded Ammad's streets Sitab should have returned with word that Heglar and Garlud were dead. Everything depended on that now—it was still not too late to recoup, winning back his thousand tals and a higher place in Ammad's society.