"Tell him," the princess said crisply, "to come here at once."
The slave-girl started to say something, reconsidered, and went out. A few minutes later she was back, followed by a tall slender young man, whose dark expressionless face bore a long livid scar across one cheek.
"Leave us, Anela," Alurna said softly ... "Sit down, Meltor."
The man lowered himself stiffly on the edge of a stool and looked at Urim's daughter with steady eyes. His face might as well have been masked, so completely was it lacking in expression.
"Meltor," said the princess, "I have kept a secret of yours for many moons—a secret that, were I to divulge it to a certain nobleman, would cost you your life. Am I right?"
A shadow of uneasiness crossed the warrior's face.
"Did the daughter of Urim," he said dryly, "summon me here that I might be reminded of something best forgotten?"
Alurna smiled. It was not a nice smile. "The nobleman, too, would like to forget. But he cannot—until his daughter is avenged."
Meltor said nothing.