Already this whole harbor area was in a feverish sweat of activity. Word of the Sea Kings’ coming had started a swift manning of ships and readying of defenses, the uproar and tumult of a city preparing for war.
Boghaz, beside him, muttered, “We’re mad to walk like this into the dragon’s throat. If you can’t carry it off as Rhiannon, if you make one slip…”
Carse said, “I can do it. I’ve had considerable practice by now in playing the Cursed One.”
But inwardly he was shaken. Confronted by the massive might of Sark it seemed a mad insolence to attempt to play the god here.
Crowds along the waterfront cheered Ywain wildly as she disembarked. And they stared in some amazement at the tall man with her, who looked like a Khond and wore a great sword.
Soldiers formed a guard around them and forced a way through the excited mob. The cheering followed them as they went up through the crowded city streets toward the brooding palace.
They passed at length into the cool dimness of the palace halls. Carse strode down huge echoing rooms with inlaid floors and massive pillars that supported giant beams covered with gold. He noticed that the serpent motif was strong in the decorations.
He wished he had Boghaz with him. He had been forced, for appearance sake, to leave the fat thief behind and he felt terribly alone.
At the silvery doors of the throne room the guard halted. A chamberlain wearing mail under his velvet gown came forward to greet Ywain.
“Your father, the Sovereign King Garach, is overjoyed at your safe return and wishes to welcome you. But he begs you to wait as he is closeted with the Lord Hishah, the emissary from Caer Dhu.”