Zamara and Darloona rejoined us a while later, and my Princess greeted Koja and Lukor and others of our friends with great happiness, introducing the Princess Zamara to them as “our ally.” Zamara received their salutes in a subdued fashion but without surliness as far as I could see. I had acted more wisely than I knew, a time earlier, when at the approach of Ang Chan I had urged the wavering Empress to conceal herself behind the panel again, to listen to our conversation. It had been my hope, of course, to draw out Ang Chan in private, thinking I might get him to confirm in his own words the truth of what Darloona and I had striven to prove to Zamara. The plan, as any reader of this narrative has seen for himself, worked splendidly.
But it had been touch and go there for a few seconds! How easily all could have been lost, had Ang Chan bothered to use his telepathic powers! The most casual glance into the contents of my mind would have exposed my plan, and revealed the fact that Zamara stood concealed behind the secret panel. For some reason, thank the Lords of Gordrimator, Ang Chan had not done so … it may have been mere negligence, or perhaps overconfidence, or, just possibly, that my inspired burst of eloquence (if so I may term it most immodestly) had intrigued him to the neglect of caution.
But how I had sweated there for a moment or two; and how easily the roll of the dice could have gone against me.. .
It was not a gamble I would care to risk again.
But all had worked according to my hastily contrived plan. The only drawback, of course, had been Zamara’s explosion of murderous fury at discovering that the wily, smirking Kuurian had indeed tricked and deluded her cruelly, using her for his own mysterious purposes. It was a great pity she had struck down the yellow dwarf in her rage, for he could have told us much.
At any rate, having swallowed the truth in all its bitterness at last. Zamara was a changed women, and the extent of this transformation was amazing to behold. In the place of strident arrogance went soft-voiced humility. Instead of vaunting egotism she displayed quiet majesty. These new virtues, added to her undeniable vividness of character and intelligence of mind made her a stunning beauty. Darloona glowed with pride as she saw the change in Zamara reflected in the eyes of both the Tharkolian officers and the Shondakorian warriors. The poor men, being mere men, could hardly take their eyes away from the radiant Princess of Tharkol.
Sniveling little Glypto had maintained a rather low profile during these swift-moving events.
Now as we stood talking on the deck, one of my officers raised a cry, pointing below. We crowded to the rail to see a vast procession drawn up beneath our two ships amidst the mighty plain.
“Why, what in the world,” I murmured in surprise. “It is the caravan of Shaphur! Whatever had possessed him to follow us here … ?”
Looking up I caught the smiling face of Glypto.
Even as I looked an amazing change came over the cringing little fellow.
He straightened from his habitual crouch and stood tall, straight, and lean. The smile on his features was an honest, open grin, and not at all the servile leer I had become accustomed to. As I watched, speechless with surprise, he removed the black patch, revealing an eye as bright and keen and clear as its twin.
“Not the Lord Shaphur, I’m afraid, Prince Jandar,” he said―and the whine and whimper were gone from his tones, leaving them firm, manly, and deeper in timbre than before.
“Glypto?” I murmured dazedly. “Whatever do you mean … ?”
“Not the merchant Shaphur, but Kaamurath, Prince of Soraba,” he said. “Whose eyes and ears in Tharkol I have been, in all the weeks just passed since first the Princess Zamara demanded he yield up the sovereignty of his realm to her imperial throne!”
An expression of utter stupefaction stretched the homely face of Ergon into a comic mask of amazement.
“I … you … w-what … ?” he stammered
Glypto laughed and performed a capering little dance, sketching a parody of a bow. And for a moment the little, leering rogue we had known before this keen-eyed, smiling stranger replaced him, stood before us.
“Yes, friend Ergon, I fear I deceived you all! But it would have irreparably damaged my disguise had you known the whimpering little rascal you cuffed and cursed stood at the right hand of the Seraan of Soraba, and was accounted the finest swordsman in the four cities of the Perushtarian Empire,” he smiled.
Ergon could only groan. It was the only time in my experience that I found him unable to think of a thing to say!
Epilogue
The Council of the Three Cites
The Seraan of Soraba spread huge tents amidst the grasses of the Plains of Haratha and we met in formal council within the hour.
Many minor mysteries had now been dispelled, leaving the greater mystery of Kuur unresolved.
Now I understood at last why there had been a merchant caravan on the plains where no caravan had any reason to be. The answer was that it was a military expedition, disguised as a caravan. The guards and the drivers of the wains, the outriders and the caravan beast-tenders were all seasoned and veteran Soraban warriors. And the gross merchant Shaphur was the clever and keen-wined Seraan, or Prince, of Soraba.
Alerted to danger by the insane and imperious demands of the Princess of Tharkol, Prince Kaamurath had dispatched his ablest and cleverest advisor, the master spy Glypto, to the Scarlet City. There, in the guise of a thief, Glypto had gained much intelligence regarding the imperial ambitions of Zamara. It was not, we now learned, pure chance that had led the little “thief” to our sumptuous prison-suite, but Glypto’s desire to discover who we were and why we had been taken captive with such extraordinary care. Thrown in with us by the tumultuous rush of events, he had continued to play his role while observing carefully all that passed, knowing all the while that his Seraan was near, among a company of valiant warriors. And when we had fallen in with the “caravan” Glypto had been taken from us, apparently for brutal interrogation, but actually to give his report to his lord. The bruises he had displayed upon his return were the result of makeup, and his whimpering terror merely the acting of a consummate artist.
For me, the most amusing of all these revelations was the discovery that never once had Glypto actually lied to us about anything of importance!
And he actually was a chanthan, or mercenary adventurer, and the son and grandson of a chanthan even as he had claimed at the time! It was in that capacity that he had first joined the service of the Seraan, who rapidly promoted him to a high position because of his proven merits.
No particular friendship had ever existed between Soraba and Shondakor; but neither had there ever been any rancor or enmity between the two cities. Now that it seemed we had an enemy in common, it seemed natural to join forces against that enemy. In this decision our newfound friend and ally, Zamara of Tharkol, grimly vowed to do her share.
“Only by the narrowest intervention of sheer chance were the wiles of Ang Chan of Kuur exposed before they had caused a vast war to erupt between the cities of Thanator,” she said determinedly.
“I agree with the royal lady of Tharkol,” Prince Kaamurath said in his breathy voice. “The plots of Kuur, which the Prince of Shondakor has just explained, imperil my realm as well as your own. Something must be done to put an end to this menace … .”
“Will the Seraan be willing to undertake war against Kuur?” Darloona inquired. The fat merchant prince puffed out his cheeks as if in indignation, then subsided thoughtfully. For once he was not gobbling sweetmeats and gulping wine: hard, practical, and serious was this Perushtarian monarch, surprisingly different from his brother rulers.