"I am no traitor, because of that kiss. I—"
They were not listening, but following Fay who was walking swiftly away, and toward the hills in the purple distance. His fingers closed on empty bitterness as he stood there alone, miserable. His people ... following a girl toward destruction.
Sorrow gnawed in his heart. This was the fate of a god, then, that his children should misunderstand him, perhaps even that they should hate him. Still, he did not blame them. They were so alone, so helpless, and so afraid.
Watching them move away, Tyr knew they needed him more than ever. They were leaving the only one who stood any chance of helping them. Without him, the Trylla were like toys before the hard, sure hands of the ardth.
He touched the handle of the solar gun and let his fingers trail away.
He would have to find the Barrow alone, now.
Two days later, Tyr parted the green fronds of a mountain bush and looked at the gleaming whiteness of the Barrow. It was a low rounded dome, lying across the hard whitish rocks of a strange mountain peak. From where he stood, he could make out arches receding back in under the dome, many of them. The arches were so many that each looked like a reflection of the others.
The Barrow, he thought with dull triumph. It was camouflaged perfectly. That roundness gave no glint to a watcher in the sky. Its lowness cast no shadow. Its whiteness blended with the dazzling brilliance of the white mountain rocks. No wonder it had stood years without detection. Even looking for it as he was, Tyr almost missed it. Only the arches, seen at a certain angle, betrayed its existence.
He loped toward it, breaking into the open. Only when he was near the arches did he see the woman on the ground to one side, kneeling. Before her a man lay on his back.