Alurna shuddered. "You would not get very far, Dylara. The jungle beasts would get you the first night."
"I think not," Dylara said matter-of-factly. "You keep forgetting that I am not a Sepharian. The jungle and plains are not to me the horrible places they seem to you who have spent your lives behind the stone walls of your cities."
"How can you think of returning to such a life, Dylara?" Jotan said, almost pleadingly. "It is no way for a girl to live—in constant danger day after day, living in cold, damp holes in a cliff, wearing only an animal skin."
"Wait until you have seen the city of Ammad! As wonderful as Sephar must have seemed to you, it is crude and barbaric when compared to the splendor of the cities of my country. And in all the world there is no palace so lavish as that of Jaltor, king of all Ammad. Why, a few days among the glories and comforts of life among my people and the thought of returning to your caves would be hateful indeed!"
But Dylara was shaking her head. "No, Jotan. Tamar is right when he says I would not fit into such a life. I was taken to Sephar as a slave to the Sepharians; and, as considerate as you have been, I am being taken to Ammad while still a slave."
"Not as a slave!" Jotan protested. "You are to become my mate. You will be shown the same honor, the same respect that I am given. I am a noble of Ammad, Dylara. Jaltor, ruler of Ammad, is my father's closest friend. He—all Ammad—will be at your feet the day we go before the high-priest of the God-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud and he makes you my mate."
The conversation clearly had gotten out of hand. Both Jotan and Dylara, so hard did each strive to make the other see his side of the argument, were putting into words things they ordinarily would never have said in front of those with them.
And all during the exchange, Alurna, princess of Sephar, sat there and watched them, her head bowed slightly and a hand shielding her face that none might see the hatred and jealousy mirrored there.
For Jotan was hers! Whether he was aware of that as yet was immaterial. Men had been blinded by beauty before and still brought to their senses before it was too late. As lovely as the cave girl was, Alurna knew that her own beauty suffered little by comparison—something that Jotan would have seen long ago were his eyes not blinded by a mad infatuation.
There was little else to do for the time being, Alurna realized, except wait. Tonight or tomorrow or a moon from now the opportunity for ridding herself of her brown-haired rival would come along. She had almost arranged the girl's death in Sephar, but Dylara had slain the hired assassin. Next time the result would be different. Fortunately it was not something that had to be done in a hurry. Dylara gave no indication of willingly becoming Jotan's mate, and being a person of high principles, Jotan would have her no other way. The only danger, really, was that his unfailing courtesy, thoughtfulness and complete adoration might succeed in winning the cave girl's love.