He could see that even though they protested courteously, the Sea Kings were relieved.
“The blessings of the gods attend you, stranger,” Emer whispered and kissed him gently on the lips.
Then she went and the jubilant Sea Kings went with her. Boghaz had slipped out and Carse and Ywain were alone in the great empty room.
He went to her, looking into her eyes that had not lost their old fire even now. “And where will you go now?” he asked her.
She answered quietly, “If you will let me I go with you.”
He shook his head. “No. You could not live in my world, Ywain. It’s a cruel and bitter place, very old and near to death.”
“It does not matter. My own world also is dead.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, strong beneath the mailed shirt. “You don’t understand. I came a long way across time—a million years.” He paused, not quite knowing how to tell her.
“Look out there. Think how it will be when the White Sea is only a desert of blowing dust—when the green is gone from the hills and the white cities are crumbled and the river beds are dry.”
Ywain understood and sighed. “Age and death come at last to everything. And death will come very swiftly to me if I remain here. I am outcast and my name is hated even as Rhiannon’s.”