“But, my friend—” squeaked Boghaz.
Carse shook him once and let him go. In a rapid undertone he said, “I’m not going to break your heart yet if I can help it. Listen, Boghaz. How would you like to gain back the power of the Tomb?”
Boghaz’ mouth fell open. “Mad,” he whispered. “The poor fellow’s lost his wits from shock.”
Carse glanced inside. The guards were lounging out of earshot. They had no reason to care what went on on the balcony. There were three of them, mailed and armed. Boghaz was weaponless as a matter of course and Carse could not possibly escape unless he grew wings.
Swiftly the Earthman spoke.
“This venture of the Sea Kings is hopeless. The Dhuvians will help Sark and Khondor will be doomed. And that means you too, Boghaz. The Sarks will come and if you survive their attack, which is doubtful, they’ll flay you alive and give what’s left of you to the Dhuvians.”
Boghaz thought about that and it was not a pleasant thought.
“But,” he stammered, “to regain Rhiannon’s weapons now—it’s impossible! Even if you could escape from here no man alive could get into Sark and snatch them from under Garach’s nose!”
“No man,” said Carse. “But I’m not just a man, remember? And whose weapons were they to begin with?”
Realization began to dawn in the Valkisian’s eyes. A great light broke over his moon face. He almost shouted and caught himself with Carse’s hand already over his mouth.