"You, Nada, shall teach her our ways; you are excused from other duties. See that she is taught to give service as a hand-maiden—she is far too beautiful for harder tasks. When she has learned all that you can teach her, let me know and I shall see to it that she has a kind mistress."
Nada could not hide her gratitude. It was clear that Urim had taken an interest in the new slave-girl, and it gladdened the older woman's heart to know Dylara's lot was to be an easy one.
Their interview ended, the two women were about to leave when the door opened to admit Jotan, Tamar and Javan.
Jotan, slightly in the lead, halted directly in front of Dylara. Indifferent to all else, he gazed deeply into the startled eyes of the cave-girl.
Dylara felt her cheeks grow warm under the unmistakable message in the man's eyes. She was conscious, in a peculiar detached way, of a strange, disturbing fascination. Somehow she knew this declaration was coming from deep within the heart of the square-faced young warrior; that the love he professed so silently was honest and complete.
Tamar nudged Javan sharply with an indignant elbow. "Look at him!" he growled under his breath. "There stands our friend—staring at a barbarian wench as though she were a nobleman's daughter! We've got to do something about this, Javan."
There was a dreamy expression in Javan's eyes. "She is beautiful, at that," he whispered. "Maybe we—"
His voice trailed off as one of the escorting guards, impatient at the delay, took Dylara by one arm and urged her on.
The movement brought realization of their surroundings to both the man and the woman. Jotan stepped aside to let them pass, his face expressionless.