"Of course; but do not leave so—so abruptly. Let us talk this over before you start. Some of our men will go with you, once we have eaten and slept."
"I am neither tired nor hungry," retorted his son. "I am going alone; others would only delay me."
Katon chose this moment to intervene. "Wait a few hours, Tharn. There is much left to be done here, and we need your help. A new king must be chosen and order restored to the palace and city. Once that is done there will be a feast for all of us; then, after a good sleep, you can set out after Dylara. You can overtake those who have her within two or three suns."
Nada ended the discussion. "Stay until morning, my son," she pleaded. "I have but found you; I cannot bear to let you go so soon."
The smile came back to Tharn's face. "As you will," he conceded. "But when Dyta comes again, I must leave you."
So it was decided, and the four went down to the lower floor to join the others.
That night, in the great dininghall of Sephar's palace, a happy throng sat about a long, wide table laden to its edges with an abundance of foods. At the head sat Katon; at his right hand was Tharn, the elder; and, on his left, was Tharn, the younger, his mother beside him.
Earlier that afternoon the former prisoners and those nobles who had not fallen in defense of Pryak's government, had assembled in the great central hallway to elect a new king. Tharn, to his honest surprise, had been their instant and unanimous choice. But he had declined the honor, saying:
"There is one among you who has every right to rule over you. He, himself, is the son of a king—one who understands all those things expected of a ruler. That man is Katon of Huxla!"