Alurna, he remembered, was more than Urim's daughter; she was niece to the most powerful figure of the known world—Jaltor, king of far-off Ammad, and commander of the greatest force of fighting-men ever assembled. Urim had been Jaltor's brother....
Eventually, Jaltor would learn of his brother's death. As a statesman and ruler, he would understand that Urim's passing was incidental to a change in power and one of the hazards of kinghood.
It was not likely, however, that Jaltor would regard in a similar light an overt slight or actual cruelty to a niece. As a possible threat to Pryak's position as king, Alurna was not to be considered; only a man could rule men. For that reason alone, the high priest had no valid excuse to do her harm.
His course, then, was plain; every effort must be made to win this girl into regarding him as a friend, lest word reach Jaltor that his niece was a mistreated prisoner in Sephar.
The chill faded from Pryak's expression like snow under a hot sun. "I have been wrong, princess," he admitted, with passable humbleness. "As Urim's daughter, you are entitled to every respect and honor. From now on you may depend on being accorded both."
Alurna could hardly believe her ears. What had come over this old man, to change him so quickly and completely?
Her response was instant and characteristic. "I want nothing from you, priest!" she snapped.
Pryak lost his smile, but none of his urbanity. He beckoned to a nearby attendant. "Escort the princess to her rooms," he instructed. "See to it that her every wish is obeyed."
When Alurna had gone, a thoughtful Pryak dropped onto his stool across from Orbar and pursed his lips reflectively.
"There must be some way to dispose of her," he said, "without incurring the wrath of Jaltor."