Tyr went forward on the tips of his toes, as silent as a breeze moving across rock.
The girl knelt beside the man, was moving her hands over him swiftly, competently. Then she leaned back on her haunches and shook her dark head. The black blouse and white slacks looked familiar. When he saw her face as she raised it, he knew.
"Katha," he said.
The girl whirled, reaching for a gun at her hip. But when she saw him fully she gave a low cry and scrambled to her feet. "Tyr, Tyr! Oh, I'm so glad I've found you!" And was running to him.
He tried to be curt, but it was useless. There was too much joy shining out of those black eyes, too much laughter and delight. And she was so feminine! He put out his hands and held her arms, making her stay a little away from him. Tyr wondered if she heard the wild pounding of his heart.
"Why?" he asked. "Why are you here? Why did you come searching for me?"
Laughter was like musical hoarseness in her throat. With head flung back so that she could hold him with her eyes, she said, "Because Space Commander Mason ordered that you be shot on sight. Because you are a doomed man. And because—I think you may yet save the Trylla."
"You are ardth!"
"It makes no difference. What are you, for that matter?"
"I—I don't know."