Ywain’s lips twisted. “So already he asks aid of the Serpent.” She nodded imperiously at the closed door. “Tell the king I will see him now.”
The chamberlain protested. “But, Highness—”
“Tell him,” said Ywain, “or I will enter without permission. Say that there is one with me who demands admittance and whom not even Garach nor all Caer Dhu may deny.”
The chamberlain looked in frank puzzlement at Carse. He hesitated, then bowed and went in through the silver doors.
Carse had caught the note of bitterness in Ywain’s voice when she spoke of the Serpent. He taxed her with it.
“No, Lord,” she said. “I spoke once and you were lenient. It is not my place to speak again. Besides”—she shrugged,—“you see how my father bars me from his confidence in this, even though I must fight his battles for him.”
“You do not wish aid from Caer Dhu even now?”
She remained silent, and Carse said, “I bid you to speak!”
“Very well then. It is natural for two strong peoples to fight for mastery when their interests clash on every shore of the same sea. It is natural for men to want power. I could have gloried in this coming battle, gloried in a victory over Khondor. But—”
“Go on.”