Something about her compelled them, even in that moment, to turn and stare. She stepped out into the open space above the table. She wore only a loose white robe and her hair was unbound. It was as though she had just risen from sleep and was walking still in the midst of a dream.
But it was an evil dream. The weight of it crushed her, so that her steps were slow and her breathing labored and even these fighting men felt the touch of it on their own hearts.
Emer spoke and her words were very clear and measured.
“I saw this before when the stranger first came before me, but my strength failed me and I could not speak. Now I shall tell you. You must destroy this man. He is danger, he is darkness, he is death for us all!”
Ywain stiffened, her eyes narrowing. Carse felt her glance on him, intense with interest. But his attention was all on Emer. As on the quay he was filled with a strange terror that had nothing to do with ordinary fear, an unexplainable dread of this girl’s strong extra-sensory powers.
Rold broke in and Carse got a grip on himself. Fool, he thought, to be upset by woman’s talk, woman’s imaginings…
“—the secret of the Tomb!” Rold was saying. “Did you not hear? He can give us the power of Rhiannon!”
“Aye,” said Emer soberly. “I heard and I believe. He knows well the hidden place of the Tomb and he knows the weapons that are there.”
She moved closer, looking up at Carse where he stood in the torchlight, the sword in his hands. She spoke now directly to him.
“Why should you not know, who have brooded there so long in the darkness? Why should you not know, who made those powers of evil with your own hands?”