Emer raised her head and looked at him. Her attitude had changed. She seemed to have no fear of Carse himself only pity for him.
“Yet you know that it is true.”
Carse was silent. He knew.
“You have done no wrong, stranger,” she said. “In your mind I saw many things that are strange to me, much that I cannot understand, but there was no evil there. Yet Rhiannon lives in you and we dare not let him live.”
“But he can’t control me!” Carse made an effort to stand, lifting his head so that he should be heard, for his voice was drained of strength like his body.
“You heard him admit that himself. He cannot dominate me. My will is my own.”
Ywain said slowly, “What of S’San, and the sword? It was not the mind of Carse the barbarian that controlled you then.”
“He cannot master you,” said Emer, “except when the barriers of your own mind weaken under stress. Great fear or pain or weariness—perhaps even the unconsciousness of sleep or wine—might give the Cursed One his chance and then it would be too late.”
Rold said, “We dare not take the risk.”
“But I can give you the secret of Rhiannon’s Tomb!” cried Carse.