He saw that thought begin to work in their minds and he went on, the ghastly unfairness of the whole thing acting as a spur.
“Do you call this justice, you men of Khondor who cry out against the Sarks? Will you condemn me when you know I’m innocent? Are you such cowards that you’ll doom your people to live forever under the dragon’s claws because of a shadow out of the past?
“Let me lead you to the Tomb. Let me give you victory. That will prove I have no part with Rhiannon!”
Boghaz’ mouth fell open in horror. “No, Carse, no! Don’t give it to them!”
Rold shouted, “Silence!”
Ironbeard laughed grimly. “Let the Cursed One lay his hands upon his weapons? That would be madness indeed!”
“Very well,” said Carse. “Let Rold go. I’ll map the way for him. Keep me here. Guard me. That should be safe enough. You can kill me swiftly if Rhiannon takes control of me.”
He caught them with that. The only thing greater than their hate and dread of the Cursed One was their burning desire for the legendary weapons of power that might in time mean victory and freedom for Khondor.
They pondered, doubtful, hesitating. But he knew their decision even before Rold turned and said, “We accept, Carse. It would be safer to slay you out of hand but—we need those weapons.”
Carse felt the cold presence of imminent death withdraw a little. He warned, “It won’t be easy. The Tomb is near Jekkara.”