“But there were also the Halflings—the races who are manlike but not descended of the same blood. The Swimmers, who sprang from the sea-creatures, and the Sky Folk, who came from the winged things—and the Dhuvians, who are from the serpent.”
A cold breath swept through Carse. Why was it that all this which he heard for the first time seemed so familiar to him?
Certainly he had never heard before this story of ancient Martian evolution, of intrinsically alien stocks evolving into superficially similar pseudo human peoples. He had not heard it before— or had he?
“Crafty and wise as the snake that fathered them were the Dhuvians always,” Boghaz was continuing. “So crafty that they prevailed on Rhiannon of the Quiru to teach them some of his science.
“Some but not all! Yet what they learned was enough that they could make their black city of Caer Dhu impregnable and could occasionally intervene with their scientific weapons so as to make their Sark allies the dominant human nation.”
“And that was Rhiannon’s sin?” Carse said.
“Aye, that was the Cursed One’s sin for in his pride he had defied the other Quiru, who counseled him not to teach the Dhuvians such powers. For that sin the other Quiru condemned Rhiannon and entombed him in a hidden place before they left our world. At least so says the legend.”
“But the Dhuvians themselves are no mere legend?”
“They are not, damn them,” Boghaz muttered. “They are the reason all free men hate the Sarks, who hold evil alliance with the Serpent.”
They were interrupted by the broken-winged slave, Lorn. He had been sent to dip up a bucket of sea water and now appeared with it.