Heglar blinked. It was the sole sign of emotion aroused by that startling declaration. "Those few moons are priceless to me, noble Vokal," he said, a faint smile hovering about his lips.
"I am prepared to pay heavily for them."
"You would have to.... What do you want me to do?"
Vokal leaned back in his chair and placed the tips of his fingers lightly together, looking over them at the old man. His eyes had gone back to being dreamy again. He said:
"I want you to attempt the assassination of Jaltor, king of Ammad!"
The breath left Heglar's lungs in an explosive gasp. "What madness is this!" he cried hoarsely. "Why do you want Jaltor dead? Certainly his death would not better your position as a noble in the court. His son would take the throne; and even if something happened to him, his sister would be next in line. Are you planning to do away with the entire royal family, noble Vokal?"
Vokal was shaking his head. "I'm afraid you did not understand me, my friend. I said that I wanted you to attempt Jaltor's assassination—not to kill him."
"This makes no sense to me!"
"It is very simple. I want you to attend one of Jaltor's morning audiences within the next day or two. Work your way close to him, draw a knife and make a clumsy attempt to stab him. But be sure you fail. The guards will overpower you instantly; and when Jaltor demands to know why you tried to kill him, refuse to answer other than to hint that you were not alone in the plot."
"Knowing Jaltor as we both do, he will order you put to torture in an effort to learn the facts. Endure that torture as long as you possibly can. Then blurt out the name of the man who hired you."