He lunged into the chamber where Katha lay. Her dark eyes met his.
"I tried to warn you. The Trylla do not like the ardth. They wanted me alive to learn secrets from me." She made a grimace. "I don't know whether I could have stood up to torture."
"There's no need of it, now," he grunted, putting his hands under the straps and bursting them. He lifted her and held her on his chest.
"I am no longer god of the Trylla," he rasped bitterly, looking down at her. "I am hated by them. Now I am—nothing!"
She was very round and soft on his ribs. Tyr tightened his arm, watching her mouth. Katha made a face and mocked him.
"Man or god—you hurt!"
He eased his arms a little, still holding her tightly. He went down the corridor of the arches as Fay and the others watched from the shadows. His footfalls were soft, but deadly. It was as though his feet intoned a danse macabre for the Tryllan race.