"Nor am I," scowled Tyr. "But, in the heart of me, something says there is another way. That, if I can convince the ardth that I could defeat them, smash them in some way—then what would be the triumph of a god."
"That might take a long time. I would like very much to have that emerald necklace. Otho said it was worn by Queen Yatha-sath two thousand years ago. Please, Tyr?"
She came close to him, perfumed warmth and soft white skin. Her mouth was very red. But Tyr looked away, frowning.
"The Old Ones derive their powers from a thing called science," he said slowly. "It says so in a book in the Tower. If I could learn that science, I might defeat them with their own weapons. But that would take a long time. Many years."
He stared up into the sun and smiled gently, feeling its hot rays lave his chest and arms and thighs. Like bubbles of air surging up through water, he felt the dormant strength of his muscles. He had strength. A strong man can fight with his hands and with his legs. He would fight.
He turned sharply to Fay and asked, "What is the Barrow that the Trylla often mention? Where is it?"
"The Barrow is the pride of the Trylla. Without it there would be no hope."
"Yes, yes. I know. But what is it?"
"It is the hidden place where all the wartime secrets of the race are stored. When the last invasion of the Old Ones took place, nearly a hundred years ago, all the accumulated knowledge of the conquered Tryllans was locked away lest the Old Ones destroy it."