If Stave and the Humbled had struck at him, they might have broken his bones; or they might have passed through him as if he were no more than mist. But they merely witnessed the eerie conflict, as unmoving as the Mahdoubt, and as unmoved.
Linden did not realise that she was holding her breath until a soundless implosion snatched the air from her lungs. The sudden inrush of force swallowed the Harrow’s power, and the Mahdoubt’s. As Linden panted in surprise, the Harrow’s campfire burned normally again. He stood across the flames from the Mahdoubt as if nothing had occurred. Only the heaviness of his respiration, and the sweat on his face, and the wincing hunch of his shoulders betrayed the truth.
“That is difficult knowledge,” he remarked when he was able to speak evenly. “It emulates the Theomach’s. Yet I am not displaced.”
“Assuredly.” The Mahdoubt shook her head as if she were casting sparks from her hair. “The Mahdoubt acknowledges that choices remain to you, flight among them. But you will not flee. Greed will not permit you to surrender your intent. Nor are you able to withstand the Mahdoubt’s resolve.”
“You know me, then,” he admitted. “Yet you are thereby doomed. While I endure, your long service comes to naught.”
Again the woman shook her head. “Perchance it is so. Perchance it is not.” Her tone was as implacable as her strength. “No conclusion is reached until you have given your bound oath.”
Grimly Linden hoped that the Harrow would refuse. If he continued to fight, or chose to retreat, she could argue that the Mahdoubt had not prevented his designs. And if she cast her own force into the fray, surely the Mahdoubt could not be held accountable for the outcome? Damn it, the woman was her friend.
But the Harrow accepted defeat. “It is given.” Resentment pulsed in his voice. “If it must be spoken, I will speak it.
“My purpose against your lady’s person I forswear.” As he uttered them, the words took on resonance. They expanded outward as if they were addressed to the night and the uncaring stars. “From this moment, I will accept from her only that which she chooses to grant. No other aspect of my desires will I relinquish. But my efforts against her mind and spirit and flesh I hereby abandon. In herself, she will have no cause to fear me. And I adjure all of the Insequent to heed me. If I do not abide by this oath, I pray that their vengeance upon me will be both cruel and prolonged.”
When he was finished, his voice relapsed to its normal depth and richness. “Does this content you, old woman?”
“It does.” The Mahdoubt’s reply was soft and faintly forlorn, as if she rather than the Harrow had been humbled. She slumped beside the fire as though her bones had begun to crack. “Assuredly. The Mahdoubt acknowledges your oath, and is content.”
“Then,” responded the Harrow with fertile malice, “I bid you joy in your coming madness. It will be brief, for it brings death swiftly in its wake.”
Offering his opponent an elaborate and mocking bow, he turned away.
At last, Linden found her voice. “Just a minute!” she snapped. “I’m not done with you.”
Cocking an eyebrow in a show of surprise, the Harrow faced her. “Lady?”
As he had sworn, his eyes exerted no compulsion. Nevertheless Linden avoided them. Instead she moved to crouch beside the Mahdoubt. Resting a hand on the older woman’s shoulder, she murmured. “Are you all right?”
She meant, Why did you do that? I needed you at first. But then I could have fought for myself.
With an effort that made her old muscles quake, the woman straightened her back and raised her head to look at Linden. “My lady,” she said in a voice that quavered, “there is no need for haste. The Mahdoubt’s doom is assured, yet it will not overtake her instantly. You and she will speak together, friend to friend.” Her mismatched eyes searched Linden’s face. “The Mahdoubt prays that you will not prolong the Harrow’s departure on her behalf.”
“Are you sure?” Linden insisted. “There must be something that I can do for you.”
“Assuredly,” replied the old woman: a dying fall of sound. “Permit the Mahdoubt a moment’s respite.” Her chin sagged back down to her breast. “Then she will speak.”
Her words were sparks in the ready tinder of Linden’s outrage.
“In that case-”
Abruptly Linden surged upright to confront the Harrow.
He had recovered his air of undisturbed certitude. The night had cooled his cheeks and brow, and his strong arms rested casually on his chest as if his struggles had already lost their meaning. His eyes probed Linden, daring her to look directly into them; but she refused. If she could, she intended to scald the danger out of them. For the moment, however, she fixed her gaze on the hollow at the base of his throat.
“I think that I understand this,” she said between her teeth. “But I don’t have much experience with you Insequent, and I want to be sure that I’ve got it straight.
“I’m safe from you now? Is that right?’
Stave had joined her beside the Mahdoubt. He looked at her intently.
He may have wished to warn her; to explain something. But what he saw in her silenced him.
The Humbled remained poised, apparently passionless, behind the Harrow. They paid no attention to their hurts.
“Indeed.” The Harrow’s defeat left a caustic edge in his voice. “Until you are minded to grant my desires, I will not attempt to wrest them from you.”
“And your desires are-?” Linden demanded. “I want to hear you say it again.”
“What I seek, lady,” he answered without hesitation. “is to possess your instruments of power.” Then he shrugged. “What I will have, however, is your companionship.”
Linden glared at his throat as though she meant to rip it open. “What in God’s name makes you think that I’m going to let you follow me around?”
The Harrow laughed mordantly. “Apart from the mere detail that you cannot prevent me? There is a service which I am able to perform for you, and which you will not obtain from any other living being.”
Oh really? “In that case,” she repeated, “there’s something that you should know about me.”
Again he laughed. “Elucidate, lady. If there can be aught that I do not know of you, I will-”
Softly, almost whispering, Linden pronounced. “The Mahdoubt is my friend.”
As swift as anger, she summoned a howl of power from her Staff and hurled it straight into the Harrow’s eyes.
Her vehemence was hot enough to resemble the fire which had fused her heart. It should have burned its way deep into his brain. If it had left him blind and useless, as doomed as the Mahdoubt, she would not have permitted herself one small stumble of regret. This was what she had become, and she did not mean to step back from herself.
But she was not as quick as the Harrow. Before her blast struck him, he slapped a hand over his eyes. Her fire splashed away like water.
For a long moment, she poured Earthpower at him, dispersing the dark; trying to overwhelm his defences. However, he was proof against her: he appeared to withstand her assault easily, almost negligently. When she had tested him until she was sure that she could not daunt or damage him with the Staff alone, she released her flame and let night wash back around the campfire.
As the Harrow lowered his hand to gaze at her, unconcerned, she said harshly, “You’re tough,” loathing the tremor in her voice. “I’ll give you that. But don’t think for a second that I can’t hurt you. If you know as much about me as you claim, you know that I can do a hell of a lot more than this.”