Jotan, his face convulsed with anger, grabbed the man by the front of his tunic with one hand and shook him savagely. Fordak, struggling to twist loose, aimed a wild blow at his tormentor, and received in return a mighty smash full on the nose that knocked him to the floor, half conscious, blood pouring from his nostrils.
"Get up!" snarled Jotan. He kicked the dazed warrior brutally in the side. "Either that tongue of yours starts to wag or it comes out—by the roots!"
He reached down, caught a handful of Fordak's rumpled hair and pulled him to his feet. The guard stood there, swaying, and would have fallen had not Jotan shoved him back on the stool.
"Where is she?"
Fordak wiped his nose with the back of one hand and stared woodenly at the crimson stains left there. He knew he must tell; he could not bear further punishment.
And then he remembered what Meltor had said. The princess Alurna had wanted the girl disposed of; to tell what he knew would bring down the wrath of Urim's daughter upon him. He shivered at the thought; for he did not want to die.
"Where is she?"
Fordak moved his head in silent negation. "I don't know."
Jotan clenched his fist to strike again. Tamar caught his arm.
"Wait," he said. "Let me talk to him." He pushed back Fordak's head. "We know you're mixed up in this, Fordak. You and another guard took the girl from her room. Tell us where she is and you shall go free—as soon as we find you have told us the truth."