A tall man clad like a mountain shepherd, in wool cloak and hood, stalked beside a woman who went with downbent head, clinging to his arm. Once in a while the woman whispered to him, and the man made a turn into a different street. They had dust on their cloaks and dust on their feet, those two. Occasionally the woman stumbled, for she was a born actress. Yet an airplane lay less than three miles from the city walls, hidden by boughs torn from _hibithus_-trees. "We are almost at the Commune," whispered the woman. "There are no people here," the man said. "Your Trylla approach not near to the building that houses the Glow. They fear it too much." They went faster, lengthening their steps. Opposite a tall white building that had _ardth_ lettering graven into its stone, they slowed and the woman spoke again. "That is where the Glow is, hidden deep in the bowels of earth beneath the Citadel. Always are there guards there. They must be overcome." The man threw back the cloak, revealed big chest and long arms naked under it. Head flung back, he studied the building eagerly. "They will be overcome!" The cloak fell to the flagging and the golden giant was gone in long strides that carried him to the doors of the Citadel and within them. The woman stood watching, then bent and lifted his fallen cloak, threw it over her arm, and followed. Inside the darkness of the Citadel, Tyr went on bare feet, with uncanny silence. A guard came toward him, and he darted into the shadows. When the guard was five paces away, Tyr struck. He lowered the guard, and went on. Voices came from ahead of him. "This Tyr will know how strong are the _ardth_ when he learns what has befallen Zarman!" "Aye! I wonder what has become of him? Is he dead?" "Not he. He bides his time. He hopes for a rising of the Trylla!" "With Zarman and his crew to be executed today, what chance have the Trylla?" Tyr was turned to stone. His heart hammered inside his chest. Zarman to die! But how had the _ardth_ taken him? Once captured, he would be twice as wary! His hands lifted in the shadows toward the guards, but he held them still. Tyr swung about and went on. 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.