Vulcar led them out. A few moments later the two prisoners were standing within the mammoth dungeon, watching silently as the great door swung shut, hearing the heavy bars fall into place.

Hardly had Tharn left the throne-room when Dylara and Nada entered, accompanied by two guards.

An amazing transformation had been made in the appearance of Majok's daughter. The stained animal skin, that once had afforded an inadequate covering, was gone--replaced by a sleeveless tunic that fell from throat to knees. Her luxuriant curls of deep brown were neatly drawn behind her ears; on her feet were strong sandals of leather.

She hesitated slightly at sight of many strange faces, the serried ranks of motionless warriors about Urim's elevated throne, and, finally, the lordly figure of Urim, himself.

Regaining confidence, she walked slowly through the press of Sepharians as they cleared a pathway to the foot of Urim's chair.

Both women and their escorts halted a few paces short of the steps.

Three heads were humbly lowered; Dylara alone gazed artlessly up at the monarch.

Urim hid his smile with a casual hand. Were all cave-people so difficult to impress? This savage girl was a beauty, though; the other women of the room certainly suffered by comparison. By the G.o.d! If there were not a hundred suitors at her heels before long he would have missed his guess. Even old Uglor, that confirmed misogynist, was staring at her, his heart in his eyes!

"Is this girl in your care, Nada?" he asked.

"She is, O Urim."

"She understands nothing of our customs?"

"That is true."

"She will be of no use, then," observed Urim, "until she has learned them. I think it would be best to keep her apart from the other slaves until then.

"You, Nada, shall teach her our ways; you are excused from other duties.

See that she is taught to give service as a hand-maiden--she is far too beautiful for harder tasks. When she has learned all that you can teach her, let me know and I shall see to it that she has a kind mistress."

Nada could not hide her grat.i.tude. It was clear that Urim had taken an interest in the new slave-girl, and it gladdened the older woman's heart to know Dylara's lot was to be an easy one.

Their interview ended, the two women were about to leave when the door opened to admit Jotan, Tamar and Javan.

Jotan, slightly in the lead, halted directly in front of Dylara.

Indifferent to all else, he gazed deeply into the startled eyes of the cave-girl.

Dylara felt her cheeks grow warm under the unmistakable message in the man's eyes. She was conscious, in a peculiar detached way, of a strange, disturbing fascination. Somehow she knew this declaration was coming from deep within the heart of the square-faced young warrior; that the love he professed so silently was honest and complete.

Tamar nudged Javan sharply with an indignant elbow. "Look at him!" he growled under his breath. "There stands our friend--staring at a barbarian wench as though she were a n.o.bleman's daughter! We've got to do something about this, Javan."

There was a dreamy expression in Javan's eyes. "She _is_ beautiful, at that," he whispered. "Maybe we--"

His voice trailed off as one of the escorting guards, impatient at the delay, took Dylara by one arm and urged her on.

The movement brought realization of their surroundings to both the man and the woman. Jotan stepped aside to let them pa.s.s, his face expressionless.

Dylara and Nada walked slowly along the corridor between the two guards.

The girl seemed subdued, deep in thought. Nada, watching her covertly, said:

"He loves you, Dylara."

The cave-girl nodded. "I know.... Who is he, Nada? I'm certain he's never seen me before. Do men fall in love so quickly?"

Her companion smiled. "They have been known to," she observed drily. "He is Jotan, the son of a n.o.bleman of Ammad. He has been in Sephar only a day or two."

"I like him," Dylara said. "You must tell me more about him."

Nada glanced sharply at the girl. "I know only what is told by palace slaves and guards. Such tales are not always true."

The guards stopped before the door of the room where Dylara had spent the night before. Nada said, "This is where we are to stay until Urim is ready to give you to some woman of the court."

As the door closed behind them, she added: "They will bring us food, shortly. While we eat, I shall tell you all I can about Sephar and Ammad ... and Jotan."

CHAPTER VII

Woman Against Woman

As the door closed behind Tharn and Katon, the former noticed that, but for themselves, the great cell was empty of life.

"Where are the others?" he asked, as they sat down on a pile of skins near one wall.

"In the arena, I suppose," Katon replied. "We must have exercise in the open air almost daily if we are to be in condition to put up a good fight during the Games."

"Just what are these 'Games,' Katon? From what I could make out, both of us are to take part in them."

"Shortly before each rainy season," Katon said, "sacrificial Games are held in honor of the G.o.d-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud. These Games consist of battles between men, and between men and beasts. At times animals alone fight, and hundreds die.

"Each succeeding day the victors of the day before are pitted against one another, until, on the last day, only one is left alive. That one, whether man or beast, is acclaimed as favorite of the G.o.d and is set free. Always, however, that one is an animal; never in Game history has a man survived. And that, my friend, is what we face."

Tharn shrugged, unimpressed. "Perhaps not. We may escape before then."

Katon shook his head. "No, Tharn. Always we are either locked in here or remain under the watchful eyes of many warriors during exercise periods in the arena.

"No, there is no escape--unless you can overcome every life-loving fighting man and half-starved beast of the Games."

He looked up in time to catch the slight smile on Tharn's lips. No shadow of fear, no hint of concern clouded the cave-man's calm gray eyes. Limitless self-confidence, backed by superhuman strength and nerves of granite, had rendered impotent the ominous note in Katon's words.

The Sepharian felt a bit exasperated. What was the use of warning this headstrong wild-man of danger if danger meant nothing to him?

"Don't you understand?" he exclaimed. "The chance of either of us surviving the Games is so small that we may as well forget it."

Tharn's smile widened. "We are not dead yet. Much can happen before the Games begin. The rainy season is almost a moon away."