t Jotan," Jaltor said quietly.

"Yet because some common killer gave his name, you believe such an
impossible story? My father could have no reason for wanting you dead.
What have you done to him?"

* * * * *

Jaltor ignored the last question. He said in the same quiet voice: "Not
a common killer, Jotan. It was old Heglar who so named your father."

The young Ammadian nobleman fell back a pace in complete amazement. "Old
Heglar? Why, he wouldn't...." His voice trailed off.

"Exactly. Heglar would not lie."

Jotan lifted a shaking hand to rub his forehead in a kind of dazed
helplessness that struck to the heart of every person in the room. "No,"
he said, his voice suddenly loud, "I do not believe it. Where is my
father? Let me talk to him."

"Where," Jaltor said coldly, "would apt to be any man who plotted the
death of Ammad's king?"

Slowly Jotan's hand fell from before his eyes as the meaning of those
chill words came home to him. "You--you _killed_ him? Garlud? My father?
Your friend?"

Nothing altered in Jaltor's sober expression--and in that Jotan read his
answer. With a strangely inarticulate snarl he launched himself at the
king, seeking to lock his fingers in that deeply tanned neck.

Curzad leaped from his place at the door, brushing past the paralyzed
onlookers, and reached out to engulf the crazed young nobleman in his
strong arms. Jotan, helpless in that iron grip was borne back, tears of
rage and frustration streaming from his eyes.

Jaltor raised a steady hand to his bruised throat, his expression
unchanged. "Confine him in the pits, Curzad. Later I shall decide what
is to be done with him."

Tamar started up from his chair in angry protest. "What kind of justice
is this?" he cried. "Will you send a man to his death because grief
causes him to----" He stopped there, stricken into abrupt silence by what
he saw in the ruler's eyes.

It took the combined efforts of Curzad and two of the corridor guards to
subdue Jotan sufficiently to get him out of the room and on his way to
the pits. When the room was quiet again, Jaltor dropped into an empty
chair across from Alurna and the two young noblemen.

"Now," he said, "I can tell you the whole story."

And tell them he did, from start to finish. "So you see," he summed up,
"why Jotan must be kept captive. Had I told him the truth nothing would
have satisfied him until his father was freed and another method used to
f