They spent the balance of the afternoon walking about Sephar's streets, viewing the sights. Shortly before dusk Vulcar led them to their quarters in a large building near the juncture of two streets—a building with square windows barred by slender columns of stone. Slaves brought food; and after the three men had eaten, the room was cleared that they might sleep.
Jotan yawned. "Even my bones are weary," he said. "I'm going to bed."
Tamar stood up abruptly. He had been silently rehearsing a certain speech all afternoon, and he was determined to have his say.
"Wait, Jotan," he said. "I'd like to talk to you, first."
Jotan looked at his friend with mock surprise. He knew perfectly well what was coming, and he rather welcomed this opportunity to declare himself and, later, to enlist the aid of his friends.
Javan was regarding them with mild amazement on his good-natured, rather stupid face. He was the least aggressive of the three, usually content to follow the lead of the others.
"All right," Jotan said. "I'm listening."
"I suppose the whole thing doesn't really amount to much." Tamar forced a laugh. "But I think it was wrong for you to carry on the way you did over that cave-girl today. Only the God knows what the nobles of Sephar, and Urim and his daughter, thought of your remarks. Why, anyone would have thought you had fallen in love with the girl!"
Jotan smiled—a slow, easy smile. "I have!" he said.