daughter of Urim," he said flatly. "I
will report to you, here, when I have finished."

The door closed behind him.

CHAPTER VIII

Abduction

The humid heat of early afternoon hung in shimmering waves over Sephar's
walls and buildings of stone. Except for an occasional perspiring
warrior or slave, hurrying on some urgent mission, the broad avenues
were quite deserted.

In a palace wing containing the female slave quarters, Dylara and Nada
were together. The daughter of Majok lay stretched at full length on her
bed, hands locked beneath her head, drowsily watching a patch of
sunlight near the ceiling. Nada nodded sleepily on a low stool near the
bed.

Dylara yawned audibly to break the silence. She rolled over and touched
the older woman on one arm.

"I don't want to sleep, Nada," she protested. "Let's talk awhile. You
promised to tell me about him--Jotan, I mean. I keep thinking about
him--how he acted, staring at me the way he did."

Nada smiled, and patted the hand on her arm. She had been thinking of
her only son--of him whom she had last seen as a little boy. She had
wanted to overcome a strange reluctance to question Dylara about him;
what he had been like, if he was big like his father ... little things
that meant much to a mother.

"I will do the best I can," she said. "What I say will be only what is
repeated among the slaves and guards.

"Jotan's home is in Ammad--about which I have already told you. His
father is a nobleman there--one of the most powerful and influential men
in that country. Jotan is well liked by all who know him; they say his
followers would die in his service and count themselves honored."

"I think I can understand that," said Dylara dreamily. "There is
something about him that takes hold of you--awakens your imagination.
Many girls must care a great deal for him."

Nada glanced sharply at her, and was on the point of making some
comment, when there came a sudden brief rap at the closed door.

"I wonder who that can be," she said, frowning. Rising, she crossed to
the door and drew it open.

A guard in a grayish-white tunic stood at the threshold. Behind him,
half-concealed by the shadows of the hall, was a second man.

"Urim," said the guard gruffly, "wishes the slave-girl Dylara brought to
him at once."

For some reason this unexpected summons alarmed Nada. "I do not
understand. What does he want of her?"

"I forgot to ask him!" retorted the guard sarcastica