The Sural stepped out of Jeryth’s house into the morning heat. He would be glad to leave Monralar behind.
     A slight smile touched his lips as he set out down the road. Should he take a travel pod … from the stronghold? He snorted to himself. Angering the Monral even further might be counterproductive, but it also might be enlightening. The angrier his old enemy became, the more his barriers slipped.
     His stomach tried to growl.
     The slight smile became a broad grin. He would take his morning meal in the stronghold refectory, with the Monral, who would be forced by tradition to give up his place at the high table in deference to the Sural’s rank.
     It was a perfect move in the great game played by Tolar’s rulers.