"The duty is distasteful. Therefore all three of
you shall go, taking as many warriors as you wish."
"But do not ask for volunteers," interrupted I-Gos, "or you will
go alone."
The three chiefs turned and left the banquet hall, walking slowly
like doomed men to their fate.
Gahan and Tara remained in the chamber to which Tasor had led
them, the man brushing away the dust from a deep and comfortable
bench where they might rest in comparative comfort. He had found
the ancient sleeping silks and furs too far gone to be of any
service, crumbling to powder at a touch, thus removing any chance
of making a comfortable bed for the girl, and so the two sat
together, talking in low tones, of the adventures through which
they already had passed and speculating upon the future; planning
means of escape and hoping Tasor would not be long gone. They
spoke of many things--of Hastor, and Helium, and Ptarth, and
finally the conversation reminded Tara of Gathol.
"You have served there?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Turan.
"I met Gahan the Jed of Gathol at my father's palace," she said,
"the very day before the storm snatched me from Helium--he was a
presumptuous fellow, magnificently trapped in platinum and
diamonds.
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