The loremaster gave no sign that it had heard her. It had put its bowl away somewhere within itself. The Waynhim behind it had stopped chanting. A moment after she fell silent, the creatures loped away, taking no apparent notice of Handir and Galt, or of the Ramen and Anele. Soon they seemed to dissolve into the dark air and the rain, and Linden lost sight of them.
She no longer needed Stave’s support, or Liand’s. She was strong enough to face her friends-and almost eager to meet with Jeremiah and Covenant. Briefly she considered expending some of her new vitality against the Demondim. Then she shrugged the idea aside. She did not know what Covenant’s intentions might require of her, or how much power she would be asked to wield.
She had done what she could for Revelstone. The Masters would have to do the rest.
When she looked toward Mahrtiir and his Cords, they bowed in the Ramen style. “That was well done, Ringthane,” said Mahrtiir gruffly. “Your tale grows with each new deed-and will doubtless expand in the telling. We are honoured that it has been granted to us to accompany you.”
Bhapa nodded his earnest agreement, and Pahni smiled gravely. Yet it seemed to Linden that the young woman’s attention was fixed more on Liand than on her.
Without warning, Anele remarked. Such power becomes you.”
He stood with thick wet grass under his feet, but his voice was not Covenant’s-or any other voice that she recognised. It was deep and full, rich with harmonics which she had not heard before. Apparently the force that had silenced Covenant-or Covenant’s imitator-the previous day still allowed other beings to inhabit the old man.
But it will not suffice,” he continued. “In the end, you must succumb. And if you do not, you will nonetheless be compelled to accept my aid, for which I will demand recompense.”
His moonstone eyes glowed damply in the crepuscular air.
“Anele?” Quickly Linden focused her revitalised senses on him. Who are you now’?” But she could perceive nothing except his age and frailty, and his heritage of Earthpower. Even his madness was masked, at least for the moment. “Who’s speaking?”
Anele replied with an incongruously gallant bow. “Lady,” the stranger in him answered. “we will meet at our proper time-if you do not fail the perils which have been prepared for you. But you would do well to heed my words.”
An instant later, the old man’s derangement closed like a shutter on the being who had possessed him. Either the stranger had made a hasty departure, or some force had expelled him.
“Did you hear that?” Linden asked her friends unsteadily. “Did it sound familiar? Have you heard that voice before?’
Liand shook his head; and the Manethrall stated without hesitation. We have not. The distinction cannot be mistaken. Some new being has spoken.”
Oh, shit! she thought in sudden anger. Another one? How many were there? How many of them were her enemies? And how much longer would Anele have to suffer such violations?
When would his pain become great enough to merit healing?
It will not suffice.
Covenant had referred to “other powers”- And Jeremiah had mentioned a race called “the Insequent.” Those people were-or had been-lorewise enough to recognise and respond to her son’s disembodied presence.
The possibility that Linden’s situation might be even more complicated and treacherous than she had realised made her stomach clench. Hell and damn! she muttered to herself as if she were Covenant. This is getting ridiculous. How was she supposed to find her way when she knew so little about what was really going on?
— the perils which have been prepared for you.
Abruptly she wheeled on the Voice of the Masters. “Are Covenant and my son still here’?” she demanded in alarm. “Did I banish them?”
This is bad enough. Tell me that I haven’t made it worse.
Handir’s mien tightened slightly, but he betrayed no other reaction. “The ur-Lord and his companion remain. They were forewarned of your power, and have endured it.” A moment later, he added, “They have departed from their chambers, proceeding toward the upland and Furl Falls.” The moisture on his face seemed to increase the severity of his gaze. “If you have no wish to delay them, we must set forth.”
In response, Mahrtiir growled softly. “If the ur-Lord is delayed, let him be delayed. She is the Ringthane and has demonstrated her worth. Do you question this?”
Torn between relief that she had not erased Covenant and Jeremiah, anger on Anele’s behalf, and anxiety about what lay ahead of her, Linden made a placating gesture toward the Manethrall. “You’re right,” she told Handir. “We should go. Covenant says that he can save us. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
She did not fear that he would attempt the salvation of the Land without her. She had some innominate role to play in his designs. But they would be dangerous: she was sure of that. How could they be otherwise, when she had resisted his desire for his ring?
Whatever happened, she meant to protect her son.
Beckoning for her friends to join her, she walked away from the savagery of the Demondim to keep her promise to Covenant and Jeremiah.
As she trod the sodden grass, the rainfall slanting into her face continued its gradual decline. Behind her, the storm-front blocked the rising sun. But a cold wind was rising, sweeping down onto the plateau from the distant mountains. Its taste and touch implied that it would increase. Already it slapped the dwindling rain at her. Soon the droplets would begin to sting when they struck her skin.
Her cloak was soaked, and most of her clothes were damp. If she remained exposed to the weather, the wind would gradually chill her until she lost the effects of the loremaster’s vitrim. Nevertheless she strode toward the west with determination in her strides and a semblance of clarity in her heart. She feared so many things that she could not name them all; but wind and rain and cold were not among them.
Now Stave, Handir, and Galt guided her along the south-facing rim of the great Keep, avoiding the centre of the promontory. Doubtless this was the most direct path toward Furl Falls. Liand walked steadily at her side, his face set against the weather. Occasionally his attention turned toward Pahni as if every sight of her took him by surprise. Even more than the Ramen, however, he seemed settled in his distrust of Covenant-and of Jeremiah. He had not been raised on legends of the Ringthane who had refused to ride the Ranyhyn. And he knew nothing of Covenant’s victories over the Despiser-or of their terrible cost-apart from what he had heard from Linden. For him, the situation was comparatively simple. His loyalty belonged to Linden.
She felt a desire to stop and talk to him, to explain how Covenant had earned her love and gratitude, and why she was prepared to sacrifice anything and everything for Jeremiah. She wanted Liand to understand why she intended to give Covenant as much help as she could, in spite of his strangeness and his scorn and his oblique cruelty. But she resisted the impulse. Covenant had avowed that he knew how to retrieve the Land from Lord Foul’s malice. Liand would learn the truth soon enough: Linden herself would learn it. Then she would no longer feel a need to justify her choices.
Instead of speaking, she tightened her grasp on the Staff; confirmed with her free hand that the immaculate circle of Covenant’s ring still hung on its chain under her shirt. For Revelstone’s sake, she had already missed one opportunity to explore Covenant’s motives and Jeremiah’s plight: she would not miss another.
Because she restrained herself, she and her companions walked in silence. The Ramen had a clearer sense than Liand did of what was at stake, for the Land if not for her: they were enclosed in a tight, expectant concentration. And Stave was Haruchai, too self-contained for unnecessary conversation. Only Anele spoke; but his incoherent mumbling conveyed nothing.