"I am told," Katon continued, "that many savage beasts are held ready to be sent against us. More than ever, Pryak is determined the final victor shall not be human. Were a man to prove the God's favorite, Sephar's populace might turn to him so strongly as to weaken Pryak's position."
Tharn grinned. "At least we shall have our fill of fighting."
"More than my fill!" retorted his friend, dryly.
Tharn, glancing about the crowded room, uttered a startled ejaculation and pointed toward a figure huddled near one of the walls.
"Who is that?" he asked. "Even with his face hidden in his hands, he seems known to me."
Katon grunted. "And well he should! That, my friend, is Vulcar—once captain of Urim's own guards!"
At Tharn's expression of shocked incredulity, he continued:
"He was brought here, yesterday, with nearly a score of warriors. In all the hours since, he has not spoken—only sits with bowed head. He, once so proud, is now humbled and beaten—crushed by the death of the man he worshipped."
Tharn studied the dejected figure. Courage might dull under such a blow as Vulcar had taken; yet it would still be courage. Experience told him a brave man is brave until death takes him; a coward, while occasionally rising above his weakness, remains a coward. And certainly Vulcar was known to be a man of courage.
From the moment of Tharn's recapture a plan had been taking form in his shrewd mind. He had never been one to accept resignedly what fate appeared to offer. If these other prisoners were ready to die in the arena, that was their affair; certainly he did not intend giving up so easily. Men like themselves had put them in this hole; and what one man could do, another could undo. The worst enemy of his fellows was their patient acceptance of what Pryak had decreed for them. If that viewpoint could only be reversed....