At last the noise of sandaled feet sounded in the corridor, and a moment later the door was thrust open.
Five men came in: four well-armed priests wearing white tunics edged in black; and another, who was as different from the nondescript priests as Sadu differs from Botu, the jackal.
Head and shoulders above his companions towered this fifth man; his face was strong and proud, and from either side of a blade-like nose, eyes of blue fire swept over the crowded room.
Katon nudged the Cro-Magnard. "That tall one is Wotar, director of the Games. He is no priest; and before Urim died, was one of Sephar's most powerful nobles. He has been Game director for a long time; and since he seems still in charge, must be high in Pryak's favor."
Wotar may have heard the whispered words, for he glanced sharply in Katon's direction. The glittering eyes stopped at the sight of Tharn, taking in the graceful contours and swelling thews beneath the clear bronzed skin.
"You," Wotar said quietly, crooking a long forefinger at the cave-man.
At first, Tharn did not fully comprehend; but when two of the priests laid hold of his arms, his doubt was gone.
"Goodbye, my friend." Katon's voice was sad. "We shall watch for your return."
"I will be back," Tharn promised from the doorway. Then he was gone, the great door crashing shut behind him.