Tamar dismissed the first guard and followed Rokor through the twin doors and down the corridor. Halting before one of the numerous doors, Rokor unbarred and opened it, then stepped aside that Tamar might enter.
A tall slender woman of early middle-age rose from a bed in one corner. But for her tunic of a slave, the visitor would have taken her for the mate of some Sepharian noble.
At his appearance, the eager expectant air she had at first assumed, faded, replaced by one of questioning doubt.
Tamar turned to Rokor. "She is not the one," he said testily. "This is not Dylara."
The guard scratched his head, baffled. "She should be here. This is her room. Urim told Nada, here, to teach her our customs."
Nada came forward and placed a hand on Tamar's arm.
"Do you seek Dylara?" she asked tensely.
Tamar nodded. "Do you know where she is?"
The woman looked meaningly at the staring guard. "If I may speak with you alone...."
Tamar sent the man out, and closed the door.