Katon, at mention of his name, had stepped forward.
"This," Tharn said, "is Katon—my friend."
There was immediate approval in the eyes of both the blue-eyed Sepharian and the Cro-Magnard chief.
"Dylara probably is in the slave quarters," Katon said. "If you will come with me, I will lead you there."
And shortly thereafter, father and son stood before a great door while Katon removed its heavy bar.
They entered a huge, sunlit room crowded with women, young and old, who shrank away from them in alarm.
There was one, however, who did not draw away. Her lovely face was registering astonishment and disbelief—and hope. One hand lifted slowly to her throat as she stared into the eyes of Tharn's father.
Nor was she alone in displaying tangled emotions. Tharn, the elder, was gazing at the woman as though unable to credit the evidence of his own eyes.
And then the man found his voice.
"Nada!" It was more gasp than a word.