"Then instead of helping," Alurna said, smiling, "I nearly brought about Jotan's death. That should be a lesson to me not to mix in another's affairs!"
Jotan smiled at her briefly, then went back to his apparently careful examination of the earthen plate in front of him. Ever since he had seated himself across the table from Dylara and the broad-shouldered young cave man next to her he had little to say. But in his mind there was a welter of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
Fate had thrown the girl he loved into the arms of the man who long ago had claimed her as his mate. The fortunes of war had made that same man Jotan's ally during the night just past. Could Jotan, then, turn against his ally because he too loved the girl whom Jotan desired above all others?
He stole a glance at the radiant young woman who held his heart in the hollow of one slender hand. How lovely she was! And how closely she leaned toward the young giant of the caves who sat beside her. Her smiles were for the man of her own kind; as the minutes passed they seemed more and more to belong to each other.
Well, it was up to Dylara now. Soon she would be called upon to make a decision: to accompany the cave man back across the vast expanse of plain and forest and mountain range to the caves of his people ... or to remain within Ammad as the mate of Jotan, nobleman of Ammad.
Beside Jotan, no less lovely in a completely different physical appearance, was Alurna of Sephar, daughter of one king and niece of another. Often her eyes strayed to the handsome young nobleman next to her. She saw his eyes go to the girl of the caves and back to his plate again as a wave of color poured up into his cheeks. She knew what was going on in his mind--knew it as if he had spoken the words aloud! The next few hours would decide what her future life would be: Jotan's mate or a woman who had lost her bid for happiness.
In all that room, perhaps, only two men did not feel the cross currents of emotions that seemed to make electric the very air about them. One missed it entirely because he was very young and interested in only one person--that was Trakor. The other was Tharn; and while he understood what lay behind Jotan's studied preoccupation, he was indifferent to it.
Dylara belonged to him--and though an entire nation might stand between them, he would claim her for his own.
As for Dylara, she smiled warmly at everyone and said little. For she too was waiting--waiting with the serenity of one whose mind is made up as to the course her life would take.
"All of you are weary," Jaltor said finally. "I suggest slaves show you to the quarters I have set aside for those of you who wish to remain as my guests."
His eyes went to the three cave people questioningly. There was a moment of weighted silence ... and into it Tharn said:
"Dylara, Trakor and I are far from the caves of our people. I, for one, am anxious to start back. Perhaps we will sleep until tomorrow's sun--then begin our journey."
As he finished speaking, his eyes came to rest upon the cave girl.
A breathless hush seemed to settle over the room. The moment had come--and Tharn had so phrased his words that the daughter of Majok now held the key to the hopes of two men ... and the choice was hers, without pressure from either of those two.
Jotan's head came up and his eyes met the brown, sun-flecked gaze of the cave girl. A deep, chest-swelling breath filled his lungs....
"I am not tired," Dylara said calmly. "I would like to start for your caves at once, Tharn."
And with those words, and the lifting of her hand as she placed it on the cave lord's bronzed forearm, Dylara made her choice.
Pain--the awful pain of unrequited love--rose like flames in Jotan's heart. Rose until they shook him with agony ... swelled ... and broke to settle back under the man's iron control.
He was conscious, then, that a soft hand had placed itself on one of his as it lay palm down against the table. He looked down at it, not understanding, then lifted his eyes slowly to meet the troubled eyes of Alurna....
Jotan said, "I had hoped that you three would remain in Ammad for a few suns as the guests of my father and me. But I can understand your eagerness to return to your own people."
Dyta, the sun, stood two hours above the eastern horizon. On a small hillock a few yards from the edge of dense jungle and forest not far from Ammad's walls, stood a group of Jaltor's warriors flanking the king and his guests.
Silence, broken only by the voices of diurnal jungle, held those on the high bit of ground as they watched the three Cro-Magnons move lightly toward that towering wall of verdure. They moved lightly, eagerly, as though anxious to lose themselves among the riotous vegetation, a familiar world to them.
Jotan, watching, felt a strange peace come into his heart. Only now did realization come that at no time during the past moons since Dylara had come into his life did he have the slightest chance to win her love. He stole a quick glance at the girl beside him. Here was the perfect mate for a nobleman--his own kind, fit to take up the duties of mate to one of his own high station. Yes, he told himself, it was better this way.
His eyes went back to the three now almost within the jungle's reach.
The girl turned back and waved her hand in farewell, joined by the lifted arms of Trakor and Tharn.
Abruptly a mist seemed to form before Jotan's eyes and he bowed his head, blinking rapidly to dispel this evidence of unmanly weakness.
When he looked up again only the empty distance met his eyes.