Katha killed him. That was why she was here. She cared not a fig for
his chances of freeing the Trylla. She was a spy. And he believed her
talk of screens and luxuries and the joys of joining the _ardth_!
His hand vised at her wrist and twisted her around to face him. Her
black eyes went wide, frightened at the mad rage in his face. Under the
grip of that hand, her knees dug into the sand.
"You murdered him. You--"
"No! Oh, no, Tyr! His heart stopped from excitement. He--he thought the
_ardth_ had found the Barrow. It _is_ the Barrow, isn't it?"
"Yes," he muttered numbly, looking away from her toward the receding,
confusing arches.
Accuse her again, Tyr. Do not let those big black eyes fool you. She
is a traitress, is she? She is a spy, instead. Accuse the one thing on
all Lyallar that believes in you. Smash her belief. Kill her with your
hands. Stand alone, as always you have done.
"No!" he moaned, swaying on big legs, widespread.
The woman knelt, looking up at him.
His eyes closed as thoughts rocketed across his brain. She killed Harl.
_She wears no gun, his body bears no mark of violence!_ She is a spy
for Mason, and will betray you. _She has come alone to you!_ Kill her,
and be safe. Trust not in your strength to fight what may come.
He put out his big hands and caught her shoulders. He lifted her up and
held her against him. He rained kisses on her soft mouth.
She stirred after a while, gently.