Slowly and without sound the massive door to Dylara's room swung open, permitting a heavily-laden figure to enter. Placing its burden on the table, the figure closed the door, crossed to the side of the sleeping girl and bent above her, listening to the slow even breathing. Satisfied, the visitor stepped back to the table and, with a coal from an earthen container, ignited the wicks of dishes of animal fat. The soft light revealed the newcomer as a woman.
Quietly she arranged the dishes she had brought, using the low stand as a table. That done, she came to Dylara's side and shook her gently by a shoulder.
The daughter of Majok awakened with a start, blinking the sleep from her eyes. At sight of the other, she sat up in quick alarm.
The woman smiled reassuringly. "You must not be afraid," she said softly. "I am your friend. They sent me here with food for you. See?" She pointed to the dishes.
The words brought a measure of comfort to Dylara's troubled mind. She noticed this woman's speech had in it nothing of the strange accent peculiar to Sephar's inhabitants.
"Who are you?" Dylara asked.
"I am Nada—a slave."
The girl nodded. Who was it this woman reminded her of? "I am Dylara, Nada. Tell me, why is it you speak as do the cave people?"
"I am of the cave people," replied the woman. "There are many of us here. The mountains about Sephar contain the caves of many tribes. Often Sephar's warriors make war on our people and carry many away to become slaves."
Dylara watched her as she spoke. Despite a youthful appearance, she must have been twice the cave-girl's age; about the same height but more fully developed. Her figure, under the simple tunic, was beautifully proportioned; her face the loveliest Dylara had ever seen. There was an indefinable air of breeding and poise in her manner, softened by warm brown eyes and an expression of sympathetic understanding.