Carse nodded. It would be good to have the sword of Rhiannon in his hands again.
Crossing the room Carse stopped long enough to pick up a cloak belonging to one of the guards. He looked sidelong at Boghaz. “How did you so fortunately chance to have my sword?” he asked.
“Why, being your best friend and second in command, I claimed it.” The Valkisian smiled tenderly. “You were about to die—and I knew you would want me to have it.”
“Boghaz,” said Carse, “your love for me is a beautiful thing.”
“I have always been sentimental by nature.” The Valkisian motioned him aside, at the door. “Let me go first.”
He stepped out in the corridor, then nodded and Carse followed him. The long blade stood against the wall. He picked it up and smiled.
“From now on,” he said, “remember. I am Rhiannon!”
There was little traffic in this part of the palace. The halls were dark, lighted at infrequent intervals by torches. Boghaz chuckled.
“I know my way around this place,” he said. “In fact I have found ways in and out that even the Khonds have forgotten.”
“Good,” said Carse. “You lead then. We go first to find Ywain.”