“What meanest thou?” she cried.  “Are the men of Gathol such boors, then?”

“They are neither boors nor fools,” he replied, quietly.  “They know when they love a woman—­and when she loves them.”

Tara of Helium stamped her little foot in anger.  “Go!” she said, “before it is necessary to acquaint my father with the dishonor of his guest.”

She turned and walked away.  “Wait!” cried the man.  “Just another word.”

“Of apology?” she asked.

“Of prophecy,” he said.

“I do not care to hear it,” replied Tara of Helium, and left him standing there.  She was strangely unstrung and shortly thereafter returned to her own quarter of the palace, where she stood for a long time by a window looking out beyond the scarlet tower of Greater Helium toward the northwest.

Presently she turned angrily away.  “I hate him!” she exclaimed aloud.

“Whom?” inquired the privileged Uthia.

Tara of Helium stamped her foot.  “That ill-mannered boor, the Jed of Gathol,” she replied.

Uthia raised her slim brows.

At the stamping of the little foot, a great beast rose from the corner of the room and crossed to Tara of Helium where it stood looking up into her face.  She placed her hand upon the ugly head.  “Dear old Woola,” she said; “no love could be deeper than yours, yet it never offends.  Would that men might pattern themselves after you!”

CHAPTER II

AT THE GALE’S MERCY

Tara of Helium did not return to her father’s guests, but awaited in her own apartments the word from Djor Kantos which she knew must come, begging her to return to the gardens.  She would then refuse, haughtily.  But no appeal came from Djor Kantos.  At first Tara of Helium was angry, then she was hurt, and always she was puzzled.  She could not understand.  Occasionally she thought of the Jed of Gathol and then she would stamp her foot, for she was very angry indeed with Gahan.  The presumption of the man!  He had insinuated that he read love for him in her eyes.  Never had she been so insulted and humiliated.  Never had she so thoroughly hated a man.  Suddenly she turned toward Uthia.

“My flying leather!” she commanded.

“But the guests!” exclaimed the slave girl.  “Your father, The Warlord, will expect you to return.”

“He will be disappointed,” snapped Tara of Helium.

The slave hesitated.  “He does not approve of your flying alone,” she reminded her mistress.

The young princess sprang to her feet and seized the unhappy slave by the shoulders, shaking her.  “You are becoming unbearable, Uthia,” she cried.  “Soon there will be no alternative than to send you to the public slave-market.  Then possibly you will find a master to your liking.”

Tears came to the soft eyes of the slave girl.  “It is because I love you, my princess,” she said softly.  Tara of Helium melted.  She took the slave in her arms and kissed her.