have brought them to Zural, chief of the village of Lar , that he may hear their story and judge whether they be the friends they claim to be, or the Korsar enemies that we believe them to be. This one,' and Vulhan pointed to Stellara, 'says that she is the daughter of Allara.'
'I am the daughter of Allara,' said Stellara.
'And who was your father?' demanded Zural.
'My father's name is Fedol,' replied Stellara.
'How do you know?' asked Zural.
'My mother told me.'
'Where were you born?' demanded Zural.
'In the Korsar city of Allaban ,' replied Stellara.
'Then you are a Korsar,' stated Zural with finality. 'And this one, what has he to say for himself?' asked Zural, indicating Tanar with a nod.
'He claims that he was a prisoner of the Korsars and that he comes from a distant kingdom called Sari.'
'I have never heard of such a kingdom,' said Zural. 'Is there any warrior here who has ever heard of it?' he demanded. 'If there is, let him in justice to the prisoner, speak.' But the Amiocapians only shook their heads for there was none who had ever heard of the kingdom of Sari . 'It is quite plain,' continued Zural, 'that they are enemies and that they are seeking by falsehood to gain our confidence. If there is a drop of Amiocapian blood in one of them, we are sorry for that drop. Take them away, Vulhan. Keep them under guard until we decide how they shall be destroyed.'
'My mother told me that the Amiocapians were a just and kindly people,' said Stellara; 'but it is neither just nor kindly to destroy this man who is not an enemy simply because you have never heard of the country from which he comes. I tell you that he is no Korsar. I was on one of the ships of the fleet when the prisoners were brought aboard. I heard The Cid and Bohar the Bloody when they were questioning this man, and I know that he is no Korsar and that he comes from a kingdom known as Sari. They did not doubt his word, so why should you? If you are a just and kindly people how can you destroy me without giving me an opportunity to talk with Fedol, my father. He will believe me; he will know that I am his daughter.'
'The gods frown upon us if we harbor enemies in our village,' replied Zural. 'We should have bad luck, as all Amiocapians know. Wild beasts would kill our hunters and the tandors would trample our fields and destroy our villages. But worst of all the Korsars would come and rescue you from us. As for Fedol, no man knows where he is. He is not of this village and the people of his own village have slept and eaten many times since they saw Fedol. They have slept and eaten many times since Fedol set forth upon his last tandor hunt. Perhaps the tandors have avenged the killing of many of their fellows, or perhaps Fedol fell into the clutches of the Buried People. These things we do not know, but we do know that Fedol went away to hunt tandors and that he never came back and that we do not know where to find him. Take them away, Vulhan, and we shall hold a Council of the Chiefs and then we shall decide what shall be done with them.'
'You are a cruel and wicked man, Zural,' cried Stellara, 'and no better than the Korsars themselves.'
'It is useless, Stellara,' said Tanar, laying a hand upon the girl's arm. 'Let us go quietly with Vulhan,' and then in a low whisper, 'Do not anger them, for there is yet hope for us in the Council of the Chiefs if we do not antagonize them.' And so without further word Stellara and Tanar were led from the house of Zural the chief surrounded by a dozen stalwart warriors.
IV LETARI
STELLARA and Tanar were conducted to a small hut in the outskirts of the village. The building consisted of but two rooms; the open living room with the fireplace and a small dark, sleeping apartment. Into the latter the prisoners were thrust and a single warrior was left on guard in the living room to prevent their escape.
In a world where the sun hangs perpetually at zenith there is no darkness and without darkness there is little opportunity to escape from the clutches of a watchful enemy. Yet never for a moment was the thought of escape absent from the mind of Tanar the Sarian. He studied the sentries and as each one was relieved he tried to enter into conversation with his successor, but all to no avail—the warriors would not talk to him. Sometimes the guards dozed, but the village and the clearing about it were always alive with people so that it appeared unlikely that any opportunity for escape might present itself.
The sentries were changed, food was brought to the prisoners and when they felt so inclined they slept. Thus only might they measure the lapse of time, if such a thing occurred to them, which doubtless it did not. They talked together and sometimes Stellara sang—sang the songs of Amiocap that her mother had taught her, and they were happy and contented, although each knew that the specter of death hovered constantly above them. Presently he would strike, but in the meantime they were happy.
'When I was a youth,' said Tanar, 'I was taken prisoner by the black people with tails. They build their villages among the high branches of lofty trees and at first they put me in a small hut as dark as this and much dirtier and I was very miserable and very unhappy for I have always been free and I love my freedom, but now I am again a prisoner in a dark hut and in addition I know that I am going to die and I do not want to die, yet I am not unhappy. Why is it, Stellara, do you know?'
'I have wondered about the same thing myself,' replied the girl. 'It seems to me that I have never been so happy before in my life, but I do not know the reason.'
They were sitting close together upon a fiber mat that they had placed near the doorway that they might obtain as much light and air as possible. Stellara's soft eyes looked thoughtfully out upon the little world framed by the doorway of their prison cell. One hand rested listlessly on the mat between them. Tanar's eyes rested upon her profile, and slowly his hand went out and covered hers.
'Perhaps,' he said, 'I should not be happy if you were not here.'
The girl turned half frightened eyes upon him and withdrew her hand. 'Don't,' she said.
'Why?' he asked.
'I do not know, only that it makes me afraid.'
The man was about to speak again when a figure darkened the opening in the doorway. A girl had come bringing food. Heretofore it had been a man—a taciturn man who had replied to none of Tanar's questions. But there was no suggestion of taciturnity upon the beautiful, smiling countenance of the girl.
'Here is food,' she said. 'Are you hungry?'
'Where there is nothing else to do but eat I am always hungry,' said Tanar. 'But where is the man who brought our food before?'
'That was my father,' replied the girl. 'He has gone to hunt and I have brought the food in his stead.'
'I hope that he never returns from the hunt,' said Tanar.
'Why?' demanded the girl. 'He is a good father. Why do you wish him harm?'
'I wish him no harm,' replied Tanar, laughing. 'I only wish that his daughter would continue to bring our food. She is far more agreeable and much better looking.'
The girl flushed, but it was evident that she was pleased.
'I wanted to come before,' she said, 'but my father would not let me. I saw you when they brought you into the village and I have wanted to see you again. I never before saw a man who looked like you. You are different from the Amiocapians. Are all the men of Sari as good-looking as you?'
Tanar laughed. 'I am afraid I have never given much thought to that subject,' he replied. 'In Sari we judge our men by what they do and not by what they look like.'
'But you must be a great hunter,' said the girl. 'You look like a great hunter.'
'How do great hunters look?' demanded Stellara with some asperity.
'They look like this man,' replied the girl. 'Do you know,' she continued, 'I have dreamed about you many times.'
'What is your name?' asked Tanar.
'Letari,' replied the girl.
'Letari,' repeated Tanar. 'That is a pretty name. I hope, Letari, that you will bring our food to us often.'
'I shall never bring it again,' she said, sadly.
