And as Carse turned to go on he saw that Ywain was staring at him with a look of startled wonder in which a doubt was already beginning to grow. The great gate swung open and the Lord Rhiannon of the Quiru was received into Caer Dhu.
The ancient halls were dimly lighted by what seemed to be globes of prisoned fire that stood on tripods at long intervals, shedding a cool greenish glow. The air was warm and the taint of the Serpent lay heavy in it, closing Carse’s throat with its hateful sickliness.
Hishah went before them now and that in itself was a sign of danger, since Rhiannon should have known the way. But Hishah said that he wished the honor of announcing his lord and Carse could do nothing but choke down his growing terror and follow.
They came into a vast central place, closed in by towering walls of the black rock that rose to a high vault, lost in darkness overhead. Below, a single large globe lighted the heavy shadows.
Little light for human eyes. But even that was too much!
For here the children of the serpent were gathered to greet their lord. And here in their own place they were not shrouded in the cowled robes they wore when they went among men.
The Swimmers belonged to the sea, the Sky Folk to the high air, and they were perfect and beautiful in accordance with their elements. Now Carse saw the third pseudo-human race of the Halflings—the children of the hidden places, the perfect, dreadfully perfect offspring of another great order of life.
In the first overwhelming shock of revulsion Carse was hardly aware of Hishah’s voice saying the name of Rhiannon and the soft, sibilant cry of greeting that followed was only the tongue of nightmare speaking.
From the edges of the wide floor they hailed him and from the open galleries above, their depthless eyes glittering, their narrow ophidian heads bowed in homage.
Sinuous bodies that moved with effortless ease, seeming to flow rather than step. Hands with supple jointless fingers and feet that made no sound and lipless mouths that seemed to open always on silent laughter, infinitely cruel. And all through that vast place whispered a dry harsh rustling, the light friction of skin that had lost its primary scales but not its serpentine roughness.
Carse raised the sword of Rhiannon in acknowledgement of that welcome and forced himself to speak.
“Rhiannon is pleased by the greeting of his children.”
It seemed to him that a little hissing ripple of mirth ran through the great hall. But he could not be sure, and Hishah said:
“My Lord, here are your ancient weapons.”
They were in the center of the cleared space. All the cryptic mechanisms he had seen in the Tomb were here, the great flat crystal wheel, the squat looped metal rods, the others, all glittering in the dim light.
Carse’s heart leaped and settled to a heavy pounding. “Good,” he said. “The time is short—take them aboard the barge, that I may return to Sark at once.”
“Certainly, Lord,” said Hishah. “But will you not inspect them first to make sure that all is well. Our ignorant handling…”
Carse strode to the weapons and made a show of examining them. Then he nodded.
“No damage has been done. And now—”
Hishah broke in, unctuously courteous. “Before you go, will you not explain the workings of these instruments? Your children were always hungry for knowledge.”
“There is no time for that,” Carse said angrily. “Also, you are as you say—children. You could not comprehend.”
“Can it be, Lord,” asked Hishah very softly, “that you yourself do not comprehend?”
There was a moment of utter stillness. The icy certainty of doom took Carse in its grip. He saw now that the ranks of the Dhuvians had closed in behind him, barring all hope of escape.
Within the circle Garach and Ywain and Boghaz stood with him. There was shocked amazement on Garach’s face and the Valkisian sagged with the weight of horror that had come as no surprise to him. Ywain alone was not amazed, or horrified. She looked at Carse with the eyes of a woman who fears but in a different way. It came to Carse that she feared for him, that she did not want him to die.
In a last desperate attempt to save himself Carse cried out furiously.
“What means this insolence? Would you have me take up my weapons and use them against you?”
“Do so, if you can,” Hishah said softly. “Do so, oh false Rhiannon, for assuredly by no other means will you ever leave Caer Dhu!”
XVIII. The Wrath of Rhiannon
Carse stood where he was, surrounded by the crystal and metal mechanisms that had no meaning for him, and knew with terrible finality that he was beaten. And now the hissing laughter broke forth on all sides, infinitely cruel and jeering.
Garach put out a trembling hand toward Hishah, “Then,” he stammered, “this is not Rhiannon?”
“Even your human mind should tell you that much now,” answered Hishah contemptuously. He had thrown back his cowl and now he moved toward Carse, his ophidian eyes full of mockery.
“By the touching of minds alone I would have known you false but even that I did not need. You, Rhiannon! Rhiannon of the Quiru, who came in peace and brotherhood to greet his children in Caer Dhu!”
The stealthy evil laughter hissed from every Dhuvian throat and Hishah threw his head back, the skin of his throat pulsing with his mirth.
“Look at him, my brothers! Hail Rhiannon, who did not know of the Veil nor why it guards Caer Dhu!”
And they hailed him, bowing low.
Carse stood very still. For the moment he had even forgotten to be afraid.
“You fool,” said Hishah. “Rhiannon hated us at the end. For at the end he learned his folly, learned that the pupils to whom he gave the crumbs of knowledge had grown too clever. With the Veil, whose secret he had taught us, we made our city impregnable even to his mighty weapons, so that when he turned finally against us it was too late.”
Carse said slowly, “Why did he turn against you?”
Hishah laughed. “He learned the use we had for the knowledge he had given us.”
Ywain came forward, one step, and said, “What was that use?”
“I think you know already,” Hishah answered. “That is why you and Garach were summoned here—not only to see this imposter unmasked but to learn once and for all your place in our world.”
His soft voice had in it now the bite of the conqueror.
“Since Rhiannon was locked in his tomb we have gained subtle dominance on every shore of the White Sea. We are few in number and averse to open warfare. Therefore we have worked through the human kingdoms, using your greedy people as our tools.
“Now we have the weapons of Rhiannon. Soon we will master their use and then we will no longer need human tools. The Children of the Serpent will rule in every palace—and we will require only obedience and respect from our subjects.
“How think you of that, Ywain of the proud head, who have always loathed and scorned us?”
“I think,” said Ywain, “that I will fall upon my own sword first.”
Hishah shrugged. “Fall then.” He turned to Garach. “And you?”
But Garach had already crumpled to the stones in a dead faint.
Hishah turned again to Carse. “And now,” he said, “you shall see how we welcome our lord!”
Boghaz moaned and covered his face with his hands. Carse gripped the futile sword tighter and asked in a strange, low voice:
“And no one ever knew that Rhiannon had finally turned against you Dhuvians?”
Hishah answered softly, “The Quiru knew but nevertheless they condemned Rhiannon because his repentance came too late. Other than they only we knew. And why should we tell the world when it pleased our humor to see Rhiannon, who hated us, cursed as our friend?”