Covenant's shirt still bore the black hand-smears of hustin blood with which she had stained him in the forecourt of the First Circinate.
Behind her, Honninscrave's voice arose at intervals from the wheeldeck, commanding the Giantship. Because Foodfendhall no longer blocked her view forward, she was able to see that Findail had resumed his place in the prow. But Vain remained standing where his feet had first touched the deck when he had climbed aboard.
Seadreamer was nowhere to be seen. Linden found that she missed him. He might have been willing to take her part.
Stiffly, she advanced. Her face was set and hard because she feared that she was going to weep. The wind fluttered her long-unwashed hair against her cheeks. Under other circumstances, she would have loathed that dirt. She had a doctor's instinct for cleanliness; and a part of her had always taken pride in the sheen of her hair. But now she accepted her grimy appearance in the same spirit that she displayed the dark stains on her thighs. It, too, was just.
Abruptly, Pitchwife began to speak. “Chosen,” he said as if he were feverish, “Covenant Giantfriend has described to us his encounter with Kasreyn of the Gyre. That tale comes well caparisoned with questions, which the Appointed might answer if he chose-or if he were potently persuaded. He perceives some unhermeneuticable peril in-”
Brinn interrupted the Giant flatly. His voice held no inflection, but he wielded it with the efficacy of a whip. “And Cail has spoken to the ur-Lord concerning the death of Ceer. He has related the manner in which you sought Ceer's end.”
An involuntary flush burned Linden's face. Her arm twitched as if she were about to make some request. But her hand hung lifeless at the end of her dead forearm.
“Chosen.” The First's throat was clenched as if words were weapons which she gripped sternly. "There is no need that you should bear witness to our discord. It is plain to all that you are sorely burdened and weary. Will you not return to your cabin for aliment and slumber?"
Brinn remained still while she spoke. But when she finished, he contradicted her squarely. “There is need. She is the hand of Corruption among us, and she sought Ceer's death when he had taken a mortal wound which should have befallen her.” The dispassion of his tone was as trenchant as sarcasm. “Let her make answer-if she is able.”
“Paugh!” Pitchwife spat. His grotesque features held more ire than Linden had ever seen in him. “You judge in great haste, Haruchai. You heard as all did the words of the Elohim. To Covenant Giantfriend he said, 'She has been silenced as you were silenced at the Elohimfest.' And in taking that affliction upon herself she purchased our lives from the depths of the Sandhold. How then is she blameworthy for her acts?”
Covenant was staring at Linden as if he were deaf to the interchanges around him. But the muscles at the corners of his eyes and mouth reacted to every word, wincing almost imperceptibly. His beard and his hot gaze gave him a strange resemblance to the old man who had once told her to Be true. But his skin had the hue of venom; and beneath the surface lay his leprosy like a definitive conviction or madness, indefeasible and compulsory. He was sure of those things-and of nothing else, either in himself or in her.
Are you not evil?
In a rush of weakness, she wanted to plead with him, beg him to call back those terrible words, although he was not the one who had uttered them. But Brinn was casting accusations at her, and she could not ignore him.
“No, Giant,” the Haruchai replied to Pitchwife. “The haste is yours. Bethink you. While the silence of the Elohim was upon him, ur-Lord Thomas Covenant performed no act. He betrayed neither knowledge nor awareness. Yet was she not capable of action?”
Pitchwife started to retort. Brinn stopped him. “And have we not been told the words which Gibbon-Raver spoke to her? Did he not say, 'You have been especially chosen for this desecration'? And since that saying, have not all her acts wrought ill upon us?” Again, Pitchwife tried to protest; but the Haruchai overrode him. “When the ur-Lord fell to the Raver, her hesitance”-he stressed that word mordantly- "imperilled both him and Starfare's Gem. When the Elohim sought to bereave him of our protection, she commanded our dismissal, thus betraying him to the ill intent of those folk. Though she was granted the right of intervention, she refused to wield her sight to spare him from his doom.
“Then, Giant,” Brinn went on, iterating his litany of blame, "she did not choose to succour the ur-Lord's silence. She refused us to assail Kasreyn in Hergrom's defence, when the Kemper was alone in our hands. She compelled us to re-enter the Sandhold when even the Appointed urged flight. Her aid she did not exercise until Hergrom had been slain and Ceer injured-until all were imprisoned in the Kemper's dungeon, and no other help remained.
“Hear me.” His words were directed at the First now-words as hard as chips of flint. "Among our people, the old tellers speak often of the Bloodguard who served the former Lords of the Land-and of Kevin Landwaster, who wrought the Ritual of Desecration. In that mad act, the old Lords met their end, for they were undone by the Desecration. And so also should the Bloodguard have ended. Had they not taken their Vow to preserve the Lords or die? Yet they endured, for Kevin Landwaster had sent them from him ere he undertook the Ritual. They had obeyed, not knowing what lay in his heart.
"From that obedience came doubt among the Bloodguard, and with doubt the door to Corruption was opened. The failure of the Bloodguard was that they did not judge Kevin Landwaster-or did not judge him rightly. Therefore Corruption had its way with the old Lords and with the Bloodguard, And the new Lords would have likewise fallen, had not the ur-Lord accepted upon himself the burden of the Land.
"Now I say to you, we will not err in that way again. The purity of any service lies in those who serve, not in that which they serve, and we will not corrupt ourselves by trust of that which is false.
“Hear you, Giant?” he concluded flatly. “We will not again fail of judgment where judgment is needed. And we have judged this Linden Avery. She is false-false to the ur-Lord, false to us, false to the Land. She sought to slay Ceer in his last need. She is the hand of Corruption among us. There must be retribution.”
At that, Covenant flinched visibly. The First glowered at Brinn. Pitchwife gaped aghast. But Linden concentrated on Covenant alone. She was not surprised by Brinn's demand.
Outside the Sandwall, his apparent callousness toward Hergrom's death had covered a passion as extravagant as his commitment. But Covenant's silence struck her as a final refusal. He was not looking at her now. From the beginning, he had doubted her. She wanted to go to him, pound at him with her fists until he gave some kind of response. Is that what you think of me? But she could barely lift her arm from the shoulder, still could not flex her elbow.
A stutter of canvas underscored the silence. Gusts beat Linden's shirt against her. The First's expression was hooded, inward. She appeared to credit the picture Brinn had painted. Linden felt herself foundering. All of these people were pushing her toward the darkness that lurked like a Raver in the bottom of her heart.
After a moment, the First said, “The command of the Search is mine. Though you are not Giants-not bound to me-you have accepted our comradeship, and you will accept my word in this matter.” Her assertion was not a threat. It was a statement as plain as the iron of her broadsword. “What retribution do you desire?”
Without hesitation, Brinn replied, “Let her speak the name of a Sandgorgon,”