She cried out then with controlled passion. “But I have wished that Sark had grown great by fair force of arms, man against man, as it was in the old days before Garach made alliance with Caer Dhu! And now there is no glory in a victory won before even the hosts have met.”
“And your people,” asked Carse. “Do they share your feelings in this?”
“They do, Lord. But enough are tempted by power and spoils—”
She broke off, looking Carse straight in the face.
“I have already said enough to bring your wrath upon me. Therefore I will finish, for I think now that Sark is truly doomed, even in victory. The Serpent gives us aid not for our sakes, but as part of its own design. We have become no more than tools by which Caer Dhu gains its ends. And now that you have come back to lead the Dhuvians—”
She stopped and there was no need for her to finish. The opening of the door saved Carse from the necessity of an answer.
The chamberlain said apologetically, “Highness, your father sends answer that he does not understand your bold words and again begs you to wait his pleasure.”
Ywain thrust him angrily aside and strode to the tall doors, flinging them open. She stood back and said to Carse, “Lord, will you enter?”
He drew a deep breath and entered, striding down the long dim length of the throne room like a very god, with Ywain following behind.
The place seemed empty except for Garach, who had sprung to his feet on the dais at the far end. He wore a robe of black velvet worked in gold and he had Ywain’s graceful height and handsomeness of feature. But her honest strength was not in him, nor her pride, nor her level glance. For all his graying beard he had a mouth of a petulant greedy child.