Warrior of the Dawn Part 18

Abruptly the seated man raised his head, his expression that of one to whom a momentous idea has come. For a long moment he remained thus, then got silently to his feet and tip-toed to the door, let himself out and, despite the withering heat, started briskly toward the palace.

The four guards stationed at the entrance stiffened to attention as he approached. Tamar halted a few yards away and beckoned to one of them.

"Do you know me?" Tamar asked haughtily.

"Of course!" replied the young warrior humbly. "There is none in all Sephar who does not know Tamar of Ammad."

"Good. Take me at once to the quarters of the female slaves."

The eagerness in the young man's face was replaced by doubt.

"I am not permit--" he began hesitantly.

Tamar cut him short with a gesture. "Do as I say," he snapped. "The responsibility will be mine."

The warrior bowed. "Follow me."

They entered the great hall and ascended to the third floor. Outside the twin doors leading to the slave quarters they were stopped by two guards on duty there.

Tamar's guide addressed one of them. "Rokor," he said, "this is the n.o.ble Tamar of Ammad. At his command I have brought him here."

Rokor bowed deeply. "It is an honor to meet Urim's guest. How may I serve you?"

"By taking me to see one of the slave-girls here--the cave-girl, Dylara."

Something akin to a leer crept into Rokor's expression. "Oh, yes; I know the one you mean. If you will come with me...."

Tamar dismissed the first guard and followed Rokor through the twin doors and down the corridor. Halting before one of the numerous doors, Rokor unbarred and opened it, then stepped aside that Tamar might enter.

A tall slender woman of early middle-age rose from a bed in one corner.

But for her tunic of a slave, the visitor would have taken her for the mate of some Sepharian n.o.ble.

At his appearance, the eager expectant air she had at first a.s.sumed, faded, replaced by one of questioning doubt.

Tamar turned to Rokor. "She is not the one," he said testily. "This is not Dylara."

The guard scratched his head, baffled. "She should be here. This is her room. Urim told Nada, here, to teach her our customs."

Nada came forward and placed a hand on Tamar's arm.

"Do you seek Dylara?" she asked tensely.

Tamar nodded. "Do you know where she is?"

The woman looked meaningly at the staring guard. "If I may speak with you alone...."

Tamar sent the man out, and closed the door.

"Well ..." he prompted.

Nada looked at him searchingly. Since Dylara had been taken from the room over three hours ago her concern for the girl's safety had steadily grown. She was convinced Urim had not sent for Dylara, but realized she was powerless to act in her aid.

Why Tamar had come here puzzled her; but he might be of a.s.sistance in clearing up the mystery surrounding Dylara's absence.

"What do you want of Dylara, n.o.ble Tamar?" she asked.

Tamar showed his surprise. "You know me, then?"

Nada smiled. "There is not a slave in the palace who does not know of you and your two friends."

Tamar hesitated. Something told him he would lose nothing in being frank with this woman. And there was something amiss here; Dylara's absence and this woman's concern made that evident.

"I can think of no reason why you should not know," he said. "You see, my friend Jotan has the mad idea he is in love with this Dylara. I have tried to make him see that one in his position cannot mate with a barbarian; but he will not listen. He means to ask Urim for her tonight.

I came here to talk to the girl--to make her understand she could never be happy as the mate of a man so far above her. If she promises to have nothing to do with my friend, I will promise to arrange for her freedom, to return her to her own people."

It took an effort for Nada to repress a smile. "Does anyone else," she asked, "want to keep Jotan from having her?"

"Not that I know of," Tamar said, puzzled by the question. "Why do you ask?"

"Because one of the guards took Dylara from here shortly before you came. He said Urim wanted her, but I think he lied."

Tamar stiffened. Was this some of Jotan's work? Had his friend suspected one of his companions might seek to interfere, and to thwart them, had the girl removed to another place?

He would go back and confront Jotan with this evidence. To think the man did not trust his own friends!

But what if Jotan had had nothing to do with taking the girl? Would it be better to remain silent, so that when he did learn she was missing it would be too late to discover what had become of her?

And then, cutting through the fog of selfishness and sn.o.bbery like rays of the sun through mist, came a new trend of thought, far more worthy of the real Tamar.

Jotan was his friend! They had fought side by side against a common foe; they had hunted together, traveled vast distances together, sought adventure together, gone hungry and cold--together. Ever since boyhood they had been companions--closer than brothers. And now he, Tamar, was on the verge of disloyalty to his own best friend!

His eyes blazing, he caught the astonished Nada by an arm.

"_Who_ took her?" he demanded hoa.r.s.ely. "Where is he, now?"

"It--it was Fordak," Nada stammered, staring wide-eyed at the man's taut face, "--Fordak and another whose face I could not see."

Tamar let go of her arm, threw open the door and went out. He found Rokor leaning against the opposite wall, waiting.

The man from Ammad masked his emotions by resuming an air of indifference.

"Come, Rokor," he said easily, "I am ready to go. The girl I came to see has been taken to another part of the palace. I have decided not to see her, after all."

As the two men walked along the corridor, Tamar said, "By the way, Rokor, do you know a guard called Fordak?"