"Because one of the guards took Dylara from here shortly before you came. He said Urim wanted her, but I think he lied."
Tamar stiffened. Was this some of Jotan's work? Had his friend suspected one of his companions might seek to interfere, and to thwart them, had the girl removed to another place?
He would go back and confront Jotan with this evidence. To think the man did not trust his own friends!
But what if Jotan had had nothing to do with taking the girl? Would it be better to remain silent, so that when he did learn she was missing it would be too late to discover what had become of her?
And then, cutting through the fog of selfishness and snobbery like rays of the sun through mist, came a new trend of thought, far more worthy of the real Tamar.
Jotan was his friend! They had fought side by side against a common foe; they had hunted together, traveled vast distances together, sought adventure together, gone hungry and cold—together. Ever since boyhood they had been companions—closer than brothers. And now he, Tamar, was on the verge of disloyalty to his own best friend!
His eyes blazing, he caught the astonished Nada by an arm.
"Who took her?" he demanded hoarsely. "Where is he, now?"
"It—it was Fordak," Nada stammered, staring wide-eyed at the man's taut face, "—Fordak and another whose face I could not see."