ess of the hour no lights gleamed from windows of the box-like
buildings and the broad streets were deserted.

Slowly reason was beginning to take hold of him as anger faded. Was
Garlud correct in saying that he was becoming an old man fleeing from
shadows, suspicious of all men? He went back over the golden days when
he and Garlud were young warriors taking their first taste of battle
against the then scattered states that today made up the country of
Ammad. He recalled the day Garlud had saved his life by leaping in front
of him and taking the tearing impact of a thrown spear. Garlud had very
nearly died of that wound and he--Jaltor--had remained day and night at
his bedside until the crisis passed.

And that was the man he had sentenced to death! The man whose friendship
had meant more to him than all his kingdom. Surely personal ambition
alone could not have driven him into plotting the assassination of his
best friend!

There was something behind all this that did not meet the eye. Had the
would-be assassin been anyone other than old Heglar he would have
dismissed his involvement of Garlud as a trumped up lie and executed the
man on the spot.

Had Heglar lied? Was there some motivation so strong that the old man
had been forced into bearing false witness against one of the most loved
noblemen in all Ammad? Was all this some intricate plot, with Garlud
instead of Jaltor as the real victim?

Jaltor, stern, ruthless and high-handed though he was, was a man with
ideals and a strong sense of honor. Also, he was extremely intelligent
and a veteran of the machinations of intrigue. The more he thought about
this whole business the more certain he was that all the facts were not
yet revealed.

For a long time he stood there on the small balcony, staring out over
Ammad with unseeing eyes. After a while a slow smile came to his strong
lips and he nodded his head a time or two in satisfaction. There was a
way....

Leaving the balcony he strode quickly to the room's single door and
threw it wide. "Quick!" he snapped to one of the startled slaves, "tell
Curzad I want him here at once!"

When the captain of the guards, as alert and bright-eyed as though he
had not been dragged from a sound sleep by Jaltor's summons, appeared in
the doorway the king bade him enter and close the door.

"Curzad," he said, "you have known the noble Garlud almost as long as I
have. Does it seem likely to you that he would be mixed up in a p