So great was the excitement, so strong the exultation of them all, that none noticed one of the recently freed prisoners detach himself from the group and steal back into the corridor. An instant later this man was fleeing rapidly up the final ramp, on his way to freedom.
For more than an hour now the palace and grounds of Vokal, nobleman of Ammad, had been the scene of great activity. Every guard, every servant, scoured the four floors and palace grounds, inch by inch, in search for the girl who had fled Vokal's room.
While seemingly everywhere at once, the silver-haired nobleman spurred them on, his calmness gone, his eyes wild, fear riding him hard. He alone of them all knew what it would mean for him were this girl to escape and find her way to Jaltor with the knowledge she had gained while lurking on the balcony outside his private suite.
He was standing now in a room on the first floor, giving directions to Ekbar, captain of his guards, when one of the warriors pushed through the crowded room, a stranger at his heels.
"Your pardon, Most-High," said the guard, "but this man came to our gates a moment ago and demanded to see you. He says he has important information that is for your ears alone."
Vokal, turning to order the man aside, stopped and stared. The stranger was tall and little more than a skeleton. His hair hung in long strands to his shoulders and a heavy beard covered his face. Among a race of men who permitted no hair to mask their countenances, the beard alone made him worthy of attention.
"Who are you," Vokal snapped, "and what do you want of me?"
"I am Tarsal," croaked the stranger, "once guard in your service. Many moons ago I fought with one of Jaltor's guards and slew him. Since that day I have been confined in the pits of Ammad's king."
Ekbar, who had been staring at the man closely while he was speaking, nodded. "He tells the truth, Most-High. I recognize him now."
"What do you want of me?" Vokal said again, his voice shrill with impatience.