him," she said gently. "All of us know that I am
no more than a prisoner among you. All of you have been kind and
thoughtful and friendly toward me. Yet there is never a moment that I am
not under the eyes of a guard. That is why I say that, given the chance,
I would escape and return to the caves of Majok, my father."

Alurna shuddered. "You would not get very far, Dylara. The jungle beasts
would get you the first night."

"I think not," Dylara said matter-of-factly. "You keep forgetting that I
am not a Sepharian. The jungle and plains are not to me the horrible
places they seem to you who have spent your lives behind the stone walls
of your cities."

"How can you think of returning to such a life, Dylara?" Jotan said,
almost pleadingly. "It is no way for a girl to live--in constant danger
day after day, living in cold, damp holes in a cliff, wearing only an
animal skin."

"Wait until you have seen the city of Ammad! As wonderful as Sephar must
have seemed to you, it is crude and barbaric when compared to the
splendor of the cities of my country. And in all the world there is no
palace so lavish as that of Jaltor, king of all Ammad. Why, a few days
among the glories and comforts of life among my people and the thought
of returning to your caves would be hateful indeed!"

But Dylara was shaking her head. "No, Jotan. Tamar is right when he
says I would not fit into such a life. I was taken to Sephar as a slave
to the Sepharians; and, as considerate as you have been, I am being
taken to Ammad while still a slave."

"Not as a slave!" Jotan protested. "You are to become my mate. You will
be shown the same honor, the same respect that I am given. I am a noble
of Ammad, Dylara. Jaltor, ruler of Ammad, is my father's closest friend.
He--all Ammad--will be at your feet the day we go before the high-priest
of the God-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud and he makes you my mate."

The conversation clearly had gotten out of hand. Both Jotan and Dylara,
so hard did each strive to make the other see his side of the argument,
were putting into words things they ordinarily would never have said in
front of those with them.

And all during the exchange, Alurna, princess of Sephar, sat there and
watched them, her head bowed slightly and a hand shielding her face that
none might see the hatred and jealousy mirrored there.

For Jotan was hers! Whether he was aware of that as yet was immaterial.
Men had been blinded by beauty bef