laves?"

Dylara shook her head. "No. Nor have I ever seen him before tonight."

The captain chewed his lip uncertainly. "It is very strange," he
complained. "I think both of you are lying. Well, if there are others
who hope to take you from us, they will get the same welcome!"

He motioned to two of his men. "Bind this cave beast's arms and legs.
Put him and the girl together in the center of the camp and triple the
guard. Vokal shall have two new slaves at least!"

* * * * *

An hour later most of the Ammadian camp was asleep once more. A dozen
guards now patrolled the site and the fires were high again with
additional fuel.

Dylara lay on her side, covered with sleeping furs to keep out the chill
of damp earth and night air. Only a few feet away lay Trakor, bound and
helpless, his broad back turned to her exactly as they had left him.

It was a good-looking back, she admitted--not yet fully developed since
its owner was still quite young, but it was well-formed and muscular
nonetheless.

What, she wondered, was the real reason behind his attempt to take her
from the Ammadians? Was he a member of some neighboring tribe? Had he
come to spy on the men of Ammad, caught sight of her and tried to take
her for himself?

She flushed a little at the thought. Not given to false modesty, Dylara
knew she was very beautiful. But beauty, it seemed, could be more curse
than blessing. It was that beauty which had led Tharn to take her by
force from her own people; that beauty which had brought Jotan to her
feet and caused him to take her with him on his return to Ammad. And now
it appeared this handsome young cave warrior had been drawn into a
lifetime of slavery by a single glimpse of her!

Yet she was woman enough to feel a little glow of pride at this tribute
to her loveliness. He was young and very attractive--in many ways like
Tharn, although his physical development was far short of the latter's.

The thought of Tharn brought an image of his mighty steel-thewed body
and god-like face before her mind's eye. Where was he this night? Were
his bones dotting the sandy surface of Sephar's arena while Nada, his
mother, mourned? Or had he won through against hopeless odds and escaped
to return to the caves of his people. She did not know, of course;
perhaps she would never know....

Trakor rolled over to face her.

For a long moment the man and the woman stared deep into each other's
eyes.