Pryak was quick to notice that which he had foreseen and counted upon: the relaxed watchfulness and lack of discipline among the handful of armed men attending the king. This, he knew, was due to Vulcar's absence from Sephar; had not the hawk-faced captain gone after Alurna, Pryak would have feared to put his plan into execution. Vulcar had always been suspicious of the priesthood; twice he had warned Urim that Pryak was overly ambitious.
"O Urim," began Pryak, "the Games honoring our God begin soon. Before then I mean to show how mistaken you are in your ill-advised interference with the laws of worship. It is I, Pryak, Voice of the God, who shall say how He is to be honored. I must warn you, if you persist in meddling, your God may turn against you and your people, sending sickness to take its toll, and causing your hunters to return empty-handed from the forests.
"Only a sun ago your own daughter was taken by the Hairy Man. Can you say her loss was not due to your—"
The arch-priest was permitted to go no further. Urim's face had grown steadily darker as mixed anger and amazement rendered him speechless. But mention of Alurna brought strength to his tongue.
Voicing a cry of rage, Urim leaped to his feet. His words were loud against the room's sudden hush.
"Silence, mangy son of Gubo! Must my time be wasted by your senseless chatter? I have told you that cruelty has no place in our faith. Too many times have I told you this; if you speak of it again, the God shall have a new 'Voice'—one able to recognize my authority!"
By this time Tidor, the neophyte, had edged his way past the flank of Urim's guards, slipping stealthily from sight behind the frustum. Here he paused, drew a long stone knife from the folds of a sleeve, then stole cautiously up the serrated side of the dais.
Tidor's heart swelled with pride. It was not every young, untried priest who could be relied upon to carry out so important a mission. Pryak had promised him much if he succeeded. Even if half those promises was kept, Tidor would rank high among his fellows.
Crouching low, Tidor clutched his knife tighter within his fingers—then silently and swiftly he sprang!