He did not know of the men outside in the street who halted suddenly and looked at Katha excitedly. Their footfalls as they ran across the street toward her went unheard by him as he raced along the corridors of the Citadel.
Katha had no chance to scream. A wrist jammed her throat and an ardth voice whispered, "Traitress!"
Tyr ran on.
A heavy throb pounded through the steel corridors, and along the polished runways, and into the panelled rooms of the Citadel. Deep down, seemingly in the guts of the planet, came the monotonous, frightening beat and thunder of the Glow, pulsing in a powerful rhythm. Not many men stayed long in this building, and the guards were changed every few hours. No one had run into it with such gladness as did Tyr, ever.
His feet barely touched the floor as he ran. He flexed his muscles, testing his strength. He was fit and ready from a week of lying in blazing sunlight, from basking under sun-lamps arranged by Katha to aid her in her tests.
A guard saw him and yanked at a gun, but Tyr took his face in the palm of his hand and banged his head against the polished steel wall, and left him twitching but alive. Tyr ran swiftly now, heading down and always downward along the ramps, deeper into the earth.
The farther he went, the more sullen grew the throb and roar. It pounded at the temples, shook the walls, surging all around.
On a lintel before a metal elevator was inscribed an ardth word. Tyr knew it to be the warning of the Glow. But he put out his hand and opened the elevator door and stepped within. He threw the switch.
There was a falling sensation for a moment, but that passed as Tyr walked around his little cell, working his arms and legs. He was tense and excited, waiting, waiting. This was to be the test. Katha said if he lived through it, that it would be the most marvelous sensation of his entire life. That it would, in some alchemic way, transmute him.
It was warm now. The car was falling faster and faster. Tyr wondered why the ardth bothered to have a car at all. If the Glow was all rumor had it to be, the ardth would have to build a new car every time this journey was taken. But the ritual of the thing! The ardth must maintain their superstitious hold on the Trylla.