"Yes," he muttered numbly, looking away from her toward the receding, confusing arches. Accuse her again, Tyr. Do not let those big black eyes fool you. She is a traitress, is she? She is a spy, instead. Accuse the one thing on all Lyallar that believes in you. Smash her belief. Kill her with your hands. Stand alone, as always you have done. "No!" he moaned, swaying on big legs, widespread. The woman knelt, looking up at him. His eyes closed as thoughts rocketed across his brain. She killed Harl. _She wears no gun, his body bears no mark of violence!_ She is a spy for Mason, and will betray you. _She has come alone to you!_ Kill her, and be safe. Trust not in your strength to fight what may come. He put out his big hands and caught her shoulders. He lifted her up and held her against him. He rained kisses on her soft mouth. She stirred after a while, gently. She whispered, her black head nestled to his chest, "You love me, Tyr?" "Yes." "You came to the Barrow, Tyr. Let us do what you would have done. Rumor has it that there are weapons inside." "Harl was the only one who knew their use." She rubbed her arms with her palms, loving the bruise where his hands had dwelt. She chided, "Fie, darling. A god can understand any weapon." And when he glanced sharply to seek mockery in her eyes, she said simply, "I mean it. You can understand them, if you will. Your mind is different. Try it!" As they went beneath the myriad arches, their feet stepping loudly on the marble flooring in the stillness, Tyr said, "If I cannot use these weapons the cause of the Trylla is forever lost." A labyrinth of strange things and objects, set on shelf and counter, under glass and on metal. Mazes of plasticine and steel, glittering and glimmering, shadowing cones and tridents and metal circlets. And none of it was even remotely understandable to the brown giant who stood and stared. Katha slipped a hand into his and said, "You can do it, Tyr. Yes, you can!" He shook his head, but he went and stood before the machines. With narrowed eyes, he studied curving generators and domed turbines. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he began to understand them. If only-- A beam of yellow sunlight swam through a glassine vent in the wall, quivering, moving. It touched Tyr, laving his brown face and dark hair in its radiance. The sunlight was hot and soothing. Tyr smiled faintly, knowing that the light was opening the secret facets of his brain, feeding energy to them, making his mind work whether he wanted it to or not. He was understanding these silent machines, now. He touched a button, and watched an engine throb and hum, coming to life. Where the blue discs were was its outlet. They turned red, and glowed. When they went white, a blast of power would splay out, and he did not want that to happen, yet. He shut the power off. Katha walked with him. "You know?" she asked softly. "I know."