The sun, climbing into the heavens, was bringing heat. Slaves carrying an umbrella over the Queen adjusted it to fend the hot rays from her; others waved lions' tails attached to the ends of long poles to and fro about her to drive the insects away; a gentle breeze carried the dust of the long column lazily toward the west.
Nemone sighed and turned to Tarzan. "Why were you late?" she asked.
"Would it be strange that I overslept?" he asked. "It was late when I left the palace, and there was no keeper to awaken me since you took Gemnon away."
"Had you wished to see me again as badly as I wished to see you, you would not have been late."
"I was as anxious to be here as you," he replied.
"You have never seen Xarator?" she asked.
"No."
"It is a holy mountain, created by Thoos for the enemies of the kings and queens of Cathne; in all the world there is nothing like it."
"I am going to enjoy seeing it," replied the ape-man grimly.
They were approaching a fork in the road. "That road leading to the right runs through the Pass of the Warriors into the valley of Thenar," she explained. "Some day I shall send you on a raid to Thenar, and you shall bring me back the head of one of Athne's greatest warriors."