d that make?"

"Why can't we free them, Tamar? Give them a chance to learn who is
behind the plot against them." She leaned toward him, her face set with
determined lines. "My uncle, it seems, is content to let them suffer
until time works out the problem of who is guilty. I say Jotan and his
father should be allowed to do something themselves to hurry matters!"

"But there's no way----"

"Are you sure? Have you thought about it before this?"

He hesitated. "No-o. But it could mean imprisonment for us if we fail,
Alurna. Jaltor can be completely ruthless; if he learned we were
attempting to interfere with his way of doing things ... well it could
be too bad for us."

Color crept into her cheeks but she met his eyes resolutely. "Jotan
means enough to me to risk that," she said flatly. "Do _you_ feel that
way?"

He rose and began to pace the floor. "You're right. Let me think. There
is an entrance to the corridors housing the pits of Jaltor's palace, an
entrance supposedly secret, which Jotan himself once pointed out to me."

He wheeled suddenly and entered his sleeping quarters, returning a
moment later with a flint knife in a sheath at his belt and there was
the light of battle in his eyes.

"Return to your room, Alurna," he said grimly. "I will go to free Jotan
and his men."

She shook her head. "This was my idea and I'm going with you."

"But--but this is dangerous! If I am caught I shall be thrown in the
pits myself--perhaps killed. This is no venture for a woman!"

"It is a venture for _this_ woman," she replied doggedly. "Jotan is to
be my mate ... even though he may not realize that yet. He must find me
beside you when we rescue him."

For a long moment they stared into each other's eyes--then Tamar's
shoulder rose and fell in surrender.

"As you wish," he said.

* * * * *

Sitab, warrior of the palace of Jaltor, moved stealthily down a steep
ramp. About him was darkness more intense than that of a tomb, forcing
him to feel his way with infinite slowness lest a misstep make a noise
loud enough to rouse one or more of the guards in the arms-rooms here
and there among the subterranean corridors.

From one of his hands trailed a heavy spear; in the other was a
keen-edged knife of flint ready for the first man who should find him
where Sitab had no right to be.

For whoever he came across now must die. It would not do for word to
reach Jaltor on the morrow that Sita