"Good. I want you to forfeit the few remaining moons of life left to you." Heglar blinked. It was the sole sign of emotion aroused by that startling declaration. "Those few moons are priceless to me, noble Vokal," he said, a faint smile hovering about his lips. "I am prepared to pay heavily for them." "You would have to.... What do you want me to do?" Vokal leaned back in his chair and placed the tips of his fingers lightly together, looking over them at the old man. His eyes had gone back to being dreamy again. He said: "I want you to _attempt_ the assassination of Jaltor, king of Ammad!" The breath left Heglar's lungs in an explosive gasp. "What madness is this!" he cried hoarsely. "Why do you want Jaltor dead? Certainly his death would not better your position as a noble in the court. His son would take the throne; and even if something happened to _him_, his sister would be next in line. Are you planning to do away with the entire royal family, noble Vokal?" Vokal was shaking his head. "I'm afraid you did not understand me, my friend. I said that I wanted you to _attempt_ Jaltor's assassination--not to kill him." "This makes no sense to me!" "It is very simple. I want you to attend one of Jaltor's morning audiences within the next day or two. Work your way close to him, draw a knife and make a clumsy attempt to stab him. But be sure you fail. The guards will overpower you instantly; and when Jaltor demands to know why you tried to kill him, refuse to answer other than to hint that you were not alone in the plot." "Knowing Jaltor as we both do, he will order you put to torture in an effort to learn the facts. Endure that torture as long as you possibly can. Then blurt out the name of the man who hired you." Heglar was watching him through narrowed eyes. "I'm beginning to see the light," he said dourly. "The name I give him will be that of the man you are really after." "Exactly." "Whereupon I will be put to death." "Jaltor has never been famed for his leniency, noble Heglar." * * * * * The old man drained his goblet of wine and put it on the table with a steady hand. "At least he is a just man. He would punish only those he believed implicated in the plot; my family would not be persecuted." He seemed to be speaking to himself. "Rhoa would be a wealthy woman and my children would never know want or hardship...." His eyes came slowly up to Vokal. "My price will be one thousand tals!" It was a staggering amount--the equivalent of twelve thousand young male slaves--but Vokal never hesitated. "I will pay it, noble Heglar," he said quietly. "In advance." "As you wish. I need no assurance beyond your word that you will carry out the exact terms of the arrangement." Heglar sighed. "You have my word.... What name will Jaltor's torture wring from my reluctant lips?" "That of the noble Garlud."