Besan felt his heart leap. "Good," he agreed. "Cut us free and we will go with you."
"Will you take me to your tribe? If I go as your mate they will welcome me."
Besan swallowed. "I will claim you as my mate," volunteered Nard Rost quickly.
Lifa sniffed. "You are too old. But the other is young and handsome." She slipped into the cave, sheltered by their bodies.
If he could be freed and so rescue Relsa Dav, Besan told himself, it would be worth mating with this stripe-haired wildcat. And she seemed the only way of escape. Probably, if he refused, she would use her knife on the both of them.
"Why, sure," he agreed, his voice strained. "But my friend's daughter must be rescued too."
Lifa was silent for a moment before her muted harsh mirth sounded. He felt Nard Rost's fingers squeeze his arm approvingly.
"Better yet," she agreed. "I cheat them of both slaves and his new mate." She peered at Besan. "Where does your tribe live?"
"In Rhilg," he told her. "In the city of the inner cone."
With an awed gasp the woman drew a well-whetted knife from within her garment and started hacking at the dried bindings of the galling wooden yoke.