"Aye." Croft inclined his head, watching the man before him. "Koryphu the Tamarizian."
"Tamarizian!" Koryphu repeated and paused and went on again in a somewhat bitter fashion. "But why Koryphu—why the son of a discredited house? Why not another, whose loyalty none could question?"
His eyes narrowed slightly and he clenched a hand.
Croft looked him full in the face. In it he saw how deeply his brother's action had affected this man—how the loss of confidence, the lack of support by the people of Cathur, as shown by his overwhelming defeat in the last elections, had rankled without expression in his mind. The thing looked back at him a smoldering fire from between Koryphu's lids. It had quivered in his voice.
"Because," said he, "who heads this mission, will meet Kalamita of Zollaria in the north."
"Kalamita!" Koryphu stiffened. Suddenly his body stirred, he half rose in his chair and sank back, well-nigh gasping. "That—foul sepulchre of dead loves and unholy emotions—that stench in the nostrils of true men, and blot on the name of women. Say you she comes herself to this meeting?"
"Aye," said Jason Croft. "Wherefore, there appears no better agent in all Tamarizia to meet her when she comes to trap me also as she hopes, seeing she had bidden me to this conference in person, than one who loves her not nor is apt to fall captive to her shameless graces—than Koryphu Tamarizian first, and son of Cathur, and loyal in his heart to both, as I believe."
"Thou believest?" Koryphu questioned with an eagerness almost pathetic.
"Aye. Else were I not sitting in his house."
For a moment silence came down, save for Koryphu's audible breathing. For a moment his eyes flamed with a sudden light, and then he turned them away since, in the code of Tamarizian manhood, there was little room for tears. Then he rose.