"Zitu reward you, as I shall see you rewarded in a time to come," Croft told him, donning his own robe and thrusting the other beneath it. "Farewell for the present, Abbu. Your service is done."
Leaving the pyramid he entered the chariot sent to fetch him and rode swiftly to the palace. Once as he noted his driver he smiled as he imagined the man's consternation could he dream who his passenger was despite his priestly seeming and the final results of this drive. But he spoke no word while they threaded the streets or when the chariot pausing, he descended, passed inside the palace, and was led by a page to the Princess Naia's door.
That door he entered, and for the first time in months found himself in the presence of the woman he loved.
She rose and stood before him. "I have done as I promised my father, what more must I do?" he heard her sweet-toned voice.
"Aye, what more have you to tell us, Abbu, you could not tell us before?" asked Lakkon, rising from a couch placed farther back from the door.
Croft threw off his enveloping cowl and robe. He stood before them, his cuirass with the sun of Aphur shining on its metal breast, sending a sparkle of light through the room. "Not Abbu this time, Prince Lakkon," he said.
"Jasor!" Naia's eyes went wide. She started back a pace while her color faded swiftly, and she lifted her hand to her breast.
"Jasor of Nodhur, by Zitu!" Lakkon cried. "Come, my lord, what means this priestly disguise?"
"Life—for yourself—life and honor for your daughter, as I hope, since I know she would not live without the latter," Croft returned. "Hark you, Lakkon of Aphur. You are a man with a sword at your belt. Tell me is your daughter's serving-maid, Maia, of your party here?"
"Aye," Lakkon returned, visibly impressed by Croft's presence and bearing. "Yet—"