Enter--Pryak
Hardly had word of Alurna's disappearance flashed through Sephar,
that same morning, than a young under-priest was seeking
admittance to the secret chambers of Pryak, high-priest to the
God-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud.
It was no simple matter to gain the subterranean apartment far beneath
the temple. Only a chosen few had ever set foot within the
holy-of-holies; this young man was not one of them. But his excited
manner and the announcement of information "for Pryak alone" had brought
him to the very door of the high-priest's suite. But here he was stopped
by Orbar, second only to Pryak, himself.
Tidor was no fool. To be first to acquaint his chief with important
information could gain him recognition as a loyal and conscientious
follower. Men had risen high with such a beginning.
And so when Orbar sought to learn what word Tidor had brought, he was
met by the unchanging retort: "I will tell Pryak--none other!"
Finally Orbar began to lose patience. "You may not see the most-high,"
he snapped. "Tell me what you know and I will pass it on--if it be
worth-while repeating. Come, tell me, or I will teach you what it means
to cross Orbar!"
Tidor trembled inwardly. He had heard gossip as to the fate of some who
had angered Orbar. He was about to blurt out the news, when there came
a sudden interruption.
The door to Pryak's apartment banged open and a short, frail-appearing
man appeared in the doorway. He was well past middle-age, with sparse
graying hair that straggled untidily past the neck line of his tunic.
His wrinkled face was twisted in anger, and his shifty, close-set eyes
of watery blue glared at the two men before him.
"What means this clamor, Orbar?" he demanded shrilly. "By the God, am I
to be disturbed by petty wrangling on my own door-step? Who is this
youth?"
Orbar's manner was humble, now. "Tidor, an under-priest, has come with
word which he claims is of great importance. I tried to learn from him
if the information was worthy of your attention, Most High, but he will
tell me nothing."
Pryak turned on the young man. "What is this news?"
Tidor gulped. "O Voice of the God," he said shakily, "I have learned
that Alurna, daughter of hated Urim, was stolen yesterday while in the
jungle. A roving band of Hairy Men killed her guards and took her.
"An hour ago Vulcar and twenty men left to hunt for her. Urim stays at
the palace, sick and miserable, waiting Vulcar's return."
Pryak's scowl had deepened as the youth spoke. "And you call that
important? What do I care if that soft-hearted fool loses a worthless
daughter? A sound whipping will teach you to--"
Suddenly the high priest fell silent. The anger twisting his features
began to fade--replaced by a cunning, scheming expression no less
repellent....
"And yet," he said slowly, "we may be able to make use of this
information. If I could be sure ... Orbar! Call to my rooms the Council
of Priests." He was speaking rapidly, now, his face flushed with
excitement. "This may be the day of our deliverance!"
* * * * *
Tharn lay flat on his back on a heap of furs and watched a pattern of
sunlight on the wall above his head. Today was his second as a captive,
and already his patience was wearing thin. He knew, now, why the other
cave-men imprisoned here wore constant expressions of aloof sullenness.
To be cooped behind rock walls day after day instead of being free to
roam forest and plain as they had done since boyhood, was enough to sour
any temper.
He wondered where Katon had been taken. Shortly after the noonday meal,
his friend had held a long whispered conversation with two of the
guards--a conversation of considerable importance, to judge from Katon's
expression. He had said nothing to Tharn about it in the hour between
the conference and the arrival of two men who had taken him away.
Tharn gave up trying to find an answer to the puzzle and dozed off. He
was awakened a half hour later by the sound of the cell door opening. He
raised his head in time to see Katon enter with two palace guards.
Without hesitation the three approached Tharn's couch and he rose to
meet them.
"Come, Tharn," said Katon hurriedly. "Urim is waiting for you."
The cave man did not move. "Why?" he asked laconically.
"It is my doing," Katon explained impatiently. "I went to him with an
idea, and he thinks enough of it to send for you."
Tharn was satisfied. He could trust Katon. Besides, it would be good to
quit this dank place--if only for a little while.
Heedless of curious stares from the other prisoners, Tharn and Katon
passed from the room, a guard leading the way. And shortly afterward
they stopped before the door of Urim's apartment. In response to their
knock, a hollow voice bade them enter.
Tharn could hardly credit his eyes at the change in the man who slumped
dejectedly on a couch near the far wall. In place of the proud ruler who
had ordered him to the pits, was a hollow-cheeked, sunken-eyed old man.
At the entrance of Tharn and the others, Urim slowly lifted his head and
looked full into the calm gray eyes of the giant savage. Under their
quiet, sympathetic expression a gleam of hope flickered into his own
tired eyes and he squared his shoulders.
"Have you told this man of your plan?" he asked Katon.
"No, Urim," replied the Sepharian. "I thought you might wish to do so."
Urim transferred his attention to the cave-man. "Yesterday," he said,
"my daughter was taken by a band of Hairy Men. What do you know about
such men?"
Tharn smiled. "Since I was a little boy I have heard many stories by men
who have fought the Hairy Ones. They are slow and clumsy and do not
think quickly. The warriors of my tribe do not fear them."
"Good!" Urim exclaimed. "Now I will tell you why I sent for you.
"When Katon, here, was told by one of the guards that Alurna had been
taken, he came to me with a suggestion. He thinks that by reason of your
wide knowledge of the world outside our walls, you might be able to
trail these Hairy Men to their caves and rescue my daughter--if she
still lives.
"Do this, and you and your mate shall go free--and Katon, too. But if
you fail to return with Alurna within the moon, the life of your mate is
forfeit."
Tharn frowned thoughtfully. "If I do not find your daughter, yet return
alone, what reward is mine?"
"None! It would be as though you had not set foot beyond Sephar's
gates."
"Which means I must take part in the Games; and Dylara remains a slave."
The cave-man was thinking aloud.
Then: "I agree, Urim. I will start at once."
* * * * *
Little Nobar, the monkey, awakened Dylara by dropping empty bean pods on
her upturned face. She blinked in the sunlight filtering through the
leaves, and sat up.
Her first thought was that she was actually free. Yet to be accomplished
was the task of learning the direction in which lay the caves of her
people, then crossing that distance alone, exposed to many dangers.
Dylara, in her accustomed environment, was a resourceful young woman.
The prospect of a long journey--just how long a journey she could only
surmise--concerned her far less than had the prospects of a lifetime of
slavery in Sephar. All her life she had rubbed elbows with jungle
beasts. Since infancy the green wilderness of the forest had been her
front yard. Night after night she had gone to sleep with the roars of
lions and the hunting squalls of leopards for a lullaby. She had learned
to respect and avoid Sadu and Tarlok and Jalok--but not to fear them.
She knew they hunted man only when other food was denied them--and that
was seldom. She knew that a tall tree was a sure haven from all three;
for Sadu could not climb at all, while Jalok and Tarlok would not
venture among the smaller limbs able to bear her weight but not theirs.
From the freshly risen sun's position Dylara realized she had slept the
entire night on this narrow branch. As she drowsily reviewed the
previous day's events, she remembered her injured ankle and bent
hurriedly to examine it.
She was relieved to find hardly any swelling there, nor was the damage
to strained ligaments so great as she at first had feared. Rising, she
tested her weight on the one foot and found that, beyond an occasional
twinge, it would support her.
Slowly she worked her way down to earth and stepped into the trail. Here
she waited a few minutes, planning her next move. She finally decided to
follow the path westward away from Sephar until a cross-trail to the
north turned up. Such a route would eventually lead her to the heights
from which she had first looked upon Sephar. From that point on, finding
the caves of Majok should not be impossible.
She skirted the clearing containing the house of Rydob, walking within
the jungle's fringe to avoid being seen by anyone who might be within
the building, and soon was traveling due west.
As she moved slowly ahead, limping slightly, she noticed the imprints of
monstrous, man-like feet in the dust of the path. At first she examined
the marks closely; but her limited woodcraft did not permit their
identification, and she gave up trying.
The makers of those strange prints, Urb and his savage band, were
plodding westward along the same path only a few hours ahead of the
cave-girl.