XVII. Caer Dhu
The next few hours were an eternity of unbearable tension for Carse.
He demanded an apartment for himself, on the ground that he must have privacy to draw his plans. And there he paced up and down in a fine state of nerves, looking most ungodlike.
It seemed that he had succeeded. The Dhuvian had accepted him. Perhaps, he thought, the Serpent folk after all lacked the astoundingly developed extra-sensory powers of the Swimmers and the winged men.
It appeared that all he had to do now was to wait for the Dhuvian to return with the weapons, load them aboard his ship and go away. He could do that, for no one would dare to question the plans of Rhiannon and he had time also. The Sea Kings’ fleet was standing off, waiting for all its force to come up. There would be no attack before dawn, none at all if he succeeded.
But some raw primitive nerve twitched to the sense of danger and Carse was oppressed by a foreboding fear.
He sent for Boghaz on the pretext of giving orders concerning the galley. His real reason was that he could not bear to be alone. The fat thief was jubilant when he heard the news.
“You have brought it off,” he chuckled, nibbing his hands together in delight, “I have always said, Carse, that sheer gall would carry a man through anything. I, Boghaz, could not have done better.”
Carse said dourly, “I hope you’re right.”
Boghaz gave him a sidelong glance. “Carse—”
“Yes?”
“What of the Cursed One himself?”
“Nothing. Not a sign. It worries me, Boghaz. I have the feeling that he’s waiting.”
“When you get the weapons in your hands,” Boghaz said meaningly, “I’ll stand by you with a belaying pin.”
The soft-footed chamberlain brought word at last that Hishah had returned from Caer Dhu and awaited audience with him.
“It is well,” said Carse and then nodded curtly toward Boghaz. “This man will come with me to supervise the handling of the weapons.”
The Valkisian’s ruddy cheeks lost several shades of color but he came perforce at Carse’s heels.
Garach and Ywain were in the throne room and the black-cowled creature from Caer Dhu. All bowed as Carse entered.
“Well,” he demanded of the Dhuvian, “have you obeyed my command?”
“Lord,” said Hishah softly, “I took counsel with the Elders, who send you this word. Had they known that the Lord Rhiannon had returned they would not have presumed to touch those things which are his. And now they fear to touch them again lest in their ignorance they do damage or cause destruction.
“Therefore, Lord, they beg you to arrange this matter yourself. Also they have not forgotten their love for Rhiannon, whose teachings raised them from the dust. They wish to welcome you to your old kingdom in Caer Dhu, for your children have been long in darkness and would once again know the light of Rhiannon’s wisdom, and his strength.”
Hishah made a low obeisance. “Lord, will you grant them this?”
Carse stood silent for a moment, trying desperately to conceal his dread. He could not go to Caer Dhu. He dared not go! How long could he hope to conceal his deception from the children of the Serpent, the oldest deceiver of all?
If, indeed, he had concealed it at all. Hishah’s soft words reeked of a subtle trap.
And trapped he was and knew it. He dared not go—but even more he dared not refuse.
He said, “I am pleased to grant them their request.”
Hishah bowed his head in thanks. “All preparations are made. The King Garach and his daughter will accompany you that you may be suitably attended. Your children realize the need for haste—the barge is waiting.”
“Good.” Carse turned on his heel, fixing Boghaz as he did so with a steely look.
“You will attend me also, man of Valkis. I may have need of you with regard to the weapons.”
Boghaz got his meaning. If he had paled before he turned now a livid white with pure horror but there was not a word he could say. Like a man led to execution he followed Carse out of the throne room.
Night brooded black and heavy as they embarked at the palace stair in a low black craft without sail or oar. Creatures hooded and robed like Hishah thrust long poles into the water and the barge moved out into the estuary, heading up away from the sea.
Garach crouched amid the sable cushions of a divan, an unkingly figure with shaking hands and cheeks the color of bone. His eyes kept furtively seeking the muffled form of Hishah. It was plain that he did not relish this visit to the court of his allies.
Ywain had withdrawn herself to the far side of the barge, where she sat looking out into the sombre darkness of the marshy shore. Carse thought she seemed more depressed than she ever had when she was a prisoner in chains.
He too sat by himself, outwardly lordly and magnificent, inwardly shaken to the soul. Boghaz crouched nearby. His eyes were the eyes of a sick man.
And the Cursed One, the real Rhiannon, was still. Too still. In that buried corner of Carse’s mind there was not a stir, not a flicker. It seemed that the dark outcast of the Quiru was like all the others aboard, withdrawn and waiting.
It seemed a long way up the estuary. The water slid past the barge with a whisper of sibilant mirth. The black-robed figures bent and swayed at the poles. Now and again a bird cried from the marshland and the night air was heavy and brooding.
Then, in the light of the little low moons, Carse saw ahead the ragged walls and ramparts of a city rising from the mists, an old, old city walled like a castle. It sprawled away into ruin on all sides and only the great central keep was whole.
There was a flickering radiance in the air around the place. Carse thought that it was his imagination, a visual illusion caused by the moonlight and the glowing water and the pale mist.
The barge drew in toward a crumbling quay. It came to rest and Hishah stepped ashore, bowing as he waited for Rhiannon to pass.
Carse strode up along the quay with Garach and Ywain and the shivering Boghaz following. Hishah remained deferentially at the Earthman’s heels.
A causeway of black stone, much cracked by the weight of years, led up toward the citadel. Carse set his feet resolutely upon it. Now he was sure that he could see a faint, pulsing web of light around Caer Dhu. It lay over the whole city, glimmering with a steely luminescence, like starlight on a frosty night.
He did not like the look of it. As he approached it, where it crossed the causeway like a veil before the great gate, he liked it less and less.
Yet no one spoke, no one faltered. He seemed to be expected to lead the way, and he did not dare to betray his ignorance of the nature of the thing. So he forced his steps to go on, strong and sure.
He was close enough to the gleaming web to feel a strange prickling of force. One more stride would have taken him into it. And then Hishah said sharply in his ear, “Lord! Have you forgotten the Veil, whose touch is death?”
Carse recoiled. A shock of fear went through him and at the same time he realized that he had blundered badly.
He said quickly, “Of course I have not forgotten!”
“No, Lord,” Hishah murmured. “How indeed could you forget when it was you who taught us the secret of the Veil which warps space and shields Caer Dhu from any force?”
Carse knew now that that gleaming web was a defensive barrier of energy, of such potent energy that it somehow set up a space-strain which nothing could penetrate.
It seemed incredible. Yet Quiru science had been great and Rhiannon had aught some of it to the forefathers of these Dhuvians.
“How, indeed, could you forget?” Hishah repeated.
There was no hint of mockery in his words and yet Carse felt that it was there.
The Dhuvian stepped forward, raising his sleeved arms in a signal to some watcher within the gate. The luminescence of the Veil died out above the causeway, leaving a path open through it.