nothing to leave them but a miserable
hovel in place of the palace I once owned."

Vokal sipped daintily from his goblet and let the garrulous old man
ramble on. Let him go on bemoaning his lowly position and living over
his past glories. Every word of it would make the old one more agreeable
to Vokal's proposition.

The nostalgic refrain went on until Heglar had emptied his first
glass of wine and extended it for a second helping. This time he
spilled a few drops on the floor as a voluntary offering to the
God-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud--a tribute given usually only
during formal dinners--gulped down several swallows of the alcoholic
grape beverage, then turned those sharp eyes on Vokal.

"But," he said hoarsely, "you didn't ask me here to talk of the old
days. What do you want of me, noble Vokal?"

* * * * *

There was a short period of silence during which Vokal appeared to be
making up his mind. Wavering light from candles set in wall brackets
about the long, richly furnished room gave a lean, almost vulpine cast
to his calm face and a glittering sparkle to his cold eyes. Finally he
said:

"I want to make you a wealthy man again, Heglar."

The hand holding the wine goblet jerked involuntarily and some of the
wrinkles in the aged face seemed to deepen. "... Why me?"

Vokal smiled dreamily. "Right to the point, eh, Heglar? It is one of my
reasons for selecting you."

"Hmm." The old one looked down into his half-empty goblet to hide the
sudden gleam in his eyes. "Tell me more of these reasons for wishing to
make me rich."

"The list is long," Vokal said graciously, "so I shall give only the
principal ones. First, it is well known throughout all Ammad that you
are a man of your word--that once you give a pledge nothing in this
world or the next could force you to go back on your word."

Heglar scowled. "One of the reasons I am a poor man today!"

"Secondly," Vokal went on, "it is reported that you are a walking dead
man, that you have only a few moons left to live because of the sickness
in your throat." At the other's startled expression he waved a languid
hand. "It is common knowledge, noble Heglar; your physician is a
talkative man."

"Thirdly," he continued, his voice calm, almost indifferent, "your long
and honorable career as a mighty warrior proves you a man of great
physical courage, and you are still strong and active enough for a
dangerous task."

A wry