“And,” said Rold, “there is another condition.” He faced Carse with unalterable determination. “I have said we will make peace with Sark—but not, though you bring fifty Rhiannons against us, with a Sark that is ruled by Ywain!”
“Aye,” roared the Sea Kings, looking wolf-eyed at Ywain. “That is our word also.”
There was a silence then and Ywain rose from the high seat, her face proud and sombre.
“The condition is met,” she said. “I have no wish to rule over a Sark tamed and stripped of empire. I hated the Serpent as you did—but it is too late for me to be queen of a petty village of fishermen. The people may choose another ruler.”
She stepped down from the dais and went from them to stand erect by a window at the far end of the room, looking out over the harbor.
Carse turned to the Sea Kings. “It is agreed, then.”
And they answered, “It is agreed.”
Emer, whose fey gaze had not wavered from Carse since the beginning of the parley, came to his side now, laying her hand on his. “And where is your place in this?” she asked softly.
Carse looked down at her, rather dazedly. “I have not had time to think.”
But it must be thought of, now. And he did not know.