Linden stared at Stave through the encroaching night, shaken in ways which she could not have articulated. Briefly she forgot the Mahdoubt’s plight. Roger had made cryptic comments about the Theomach’s role in the Land’s history. And the Theomach had assured her that she knew his true name
Stave faced her like a man who had determined to spare himself nothing. It was the Vizard’s word that the Theomach had joined himself to a great Lord in a land beyond our mountains to the east. In the Lord’s company, he had quested far across the Earth, risking Nicor and the Soulbiter and many other perils to discover the hiding place of the One Tree. That alone, said the Vizard, was knowledge of surpassing difficulty, deserving accolade. The One Tree may be found only by those who do not seek the thing they seek, yet the Theomach resolved the conundrum by seeking the One Tree on the Lord’s behalf rather than his own. For himself, he desired not the One Tree, but rather its Guardian.
“Therein lay his greatest feat. In single combat, he defeated the hated Elohim who stood as the Tree’s Appointed Guardian. Thus the Theomach became the Guardian in the Elohim’s stead. Alone among the Insequent-so said the Vizard-the Theomach passed beyond self and craving to join the rare company of those who do not heed death. And therefore the Vizard did not scruple to reveal the Theomach’s true name, for he could no longer be harmed by it.”
“Kenaustin Ardenol,” Linden breathed. “Oh, my God.”
She had known the Theomach’s true name for ten years. But she could not have recognised it until now.
He had become more than Berek Halfhand’s companion and teacher: far more.
She heard hints of mourning in Stave’s voice as he said. To the Vizard, we granted that we would name the Guardian of the One Tree ak-Haru. But we could not further swallow our crippled pride. That we had been bested by a single opponent who then refused our acknowledgment did not teach us humility. It taught us humiliation.”
The Mahdoubt raised her head, although the effort made her shudder. “Such was the Vizard’s intent.” Anger throbbed in her voice. “Assuredly. His peculiar greed ruled him, and no word or ploy of his was kindly. Even his courtesy was scorn. Had he lived to achieve his purpose, he would have undone the entire race of the Elohim to sate his hungers.”
Stave nodded. The night made him appear carved in stone.
“Being humiliated, we did not accept the welcome of the Vizard. Nor did we sojourn among the Insequent. Rather we returned in pain to our snow-clad peaks. When at a later time, we again elected to measure our worth, we did so in pain. In pain, we turned our trek to the east, for that was the direction named by the Vizard. In pain, we challenged High Lord Kevin Landwaster and all of his great Council. And when our challenge was met, not with combat, but with open-hearted respect and generosity, our pain was multiplied, for we were accorded a worth which we had not won. Therefore we swore the Vow of the Bloodguard, setting aside homes and wives and sleep and death that we might once again merit our own esteem.”
Now Linden could not remain silent. Impelled by her own ire, she said unsteadily, “It’s also why you abandoned your Vow.” She was learning to understand what the Vizard’s whims had cost Stave’s people. “When Korik, Sill, and Doar failed, you decided that you didn’t deserve to help the Lords fight Lord Foul.”
Again Stave nodded; but she did not stop. Her indignation rose into the night as if it were directed at every Haruchai who had ever lived, although it was not. For Stave’s people, she felt only a sorrow which she could not afford.
“And it’s why you never actually got together to fight the Clave, even though your people were being slaughtered,” shed to feed the Sunbane. “Even after Covenant saved you, only a few of you joined us. You knew that we were going to search for the One Tree, and you didn’t consider yourselves worthy to face your ak-Haru. You couldn’t commit yourselves to defend the Land until Brinn proved that he could take the Guardian’s place. Until he became the ak-Haru himself.
“That’s when you finally started to believe in yourselves again.”
The Masters had carried their perception of worth too far. Now she knew why. After millennia of loss, they had regained their self-respect, but they had never learned how to grieve. Liand was right about them. They could only find healing in the attempt to match Brinn’s example. Their humiliation had made them too rigid for any other release.
“So of course,” Linden continued. “the Humbled attacked the Harrow before he did anything to threaten us. They had to. He’s one of the Insequent. That’s all the provocation they needed.”
“Indeed.” Stave stood in darkness, as unrevealing as the stars. “Aspiring to Brinn’s triumph, they now desire to prove themselves against any of the Insequent. For that reason, among others, I did not wish to speak of the Mahdoubt, or of the stranger, until we were certain of their nature.”
“But you didn’t tell anyone about all this?” That, too, might have healed them. If nothing else, it might have eased their loneliness. “Anyone at all? Didn’t you think that someone might need to know your story?”
Her protest was addressed to the Mahdoubt as well.
The Humbled had moved closer, following the light as it shrank and faltered. They stood around Linden, Stave, and the Mahdoubt like sentinels or accusers, stiff with wariness or reproach.
“Until this moment,” Stave acknowledged, “no Haruchai has spoken of these matters aloud, saving only Brinn during your approach to the One Tree. In the time of the Lords, the Bloodguard would have answered if any Lord or Giant had inquired. But none knew of the Insequent. There were no queries. Even in the approach to the One Tree, neither you nor the Unbeliever nor any Giant questioned Brinn and Cail concerning ak-Haru Kenaustin Ardenol, though you were informed that our knowledge was older than the time of the Bloodguard.
“As you have confirmed, Berek Halfhand knew of the Theomach, as did Damelon Giantfriend. Yet that tale was transformed at its birth. It was told to suit the Theomach’s purpose. This also you have confirmed. No mention was made of the Insequent in Berek Heartthew’s presence, or in his son’s. Rather the first Halfhand’s thoughts were guided along other paths.
“Nor have we deemed it needful to reveal our ancient shame. Though it remains fresh from generation to generation among us, the Insequent played no part in the stratagems of Corruption or the perils of the Land. We could not state with certainty that the Vizard’s kind had not ceased to exist. Why then should we speak of our humiliation?”
Little more than embers remained in Stave’s eye as he said to Linden. “Perhaps now you will grasp the import of Brinn’s victory over the Guardian of the One Tree. It inspired the Haruchai to believe themselves equal to the Mastery of the Land, for it redeemed us to ourselves.”
Linden grasped too much: she could not absorb it all. The acquiescence of the Humbled when the Mahdoubt had contradicted their wishes made sense to her now. But she did not know why the Mahdoubt had insisted on Stave’s tale. How was it needful, except as a farewell?
When Stave was done, the Insequent seemed to call up old reserves of fortitude or determination. Straightening her shoulders arduously, she raised her chin to the advancing night.