Deliberately, he turned his back as if he were daring Covenant to smite him.
Passion ran down Covenant's arm, itching for violence. Findail refused every gesture which might have palliated the harm his people had done. Covenant had to grit his teeth to hold back protests which would have written themselves in fire across the Giantship. But Linden was with him. Her touch felt cool on his hot forearm.
“It wouldn't do any good.” His voice choked between his teeth. “Even if I tore his heart out with my bare hands.” But he believed in restraint. Blood-willingness appalled him, his own more than any other. Why else had he let Lord Foul live?
Her soft eyes regarded him as if she were about to say, How else can you fight? Bitter with vulnerability, she had once said, Some infections have to be cut out. That pain was still apparent in the marks of death and severity around her mouth; but now it took a different form, surprising him. Arduously, she said, “After Hergrom rescued you-killed that Guard-For a while, we were alone with Kasreyn. Brinn wanted to kill him then. And I wanted him to do it. But I couldn't — Couldn't let him. Even though I knew something terrible was going to happen to Hergrom. I couldn't be responsible for more killing.” Her mother was vivid in her eyes. “Maybe Brinn's right. Maybe that makes me responsible for what happened. But it wouldn't have made any difference. We couldn't have killed him anyway.”
She stopped. She did not need to go on. Covenant understood her. He could not have killed Lord Foul. Despite was not something which could be made to die.
Yet she was wrong about one thing: it would have made a difference. The same difference that killing her mother had made to her.
He wanted to tell her that he was glad she had not unleashed Brinn at Kasreyn. But he was too crowded with other needs. He remained still for a moment in recognition of her. Then he jerked into motion back toward the knot of Giants who paid out the hoses over the edge of the dromond.
Pressing himself against the rail, he stared at the bubbles. The cross-support was like a bar across his chest. Terrible amounts of time had passed. How could Brinn and Cail still be alive? The bubbles rose in bursts, as if the two Giants had reached a depth where the pressure threatened their lungs. The tubes throbbed and wheezed stertorously, articulating the labour of the pumps. He found himself breathing to the same rhythm.
He wrenched his gaze from the sea. The imponderable dance of the waterspouts went on, slowly invoking Starfare's Gem to its grave. The First's longsword lay in its scabbard on the deck like an abandoned thing, bereft of use and name. Linden was peering distractedly around the zone of calm, registering unspecified perceptions. Unconsciously, her lips spelled out the high geyser and spray of an alien tongue.
Abruptly, the hoses stopped moving.
At once, the enclosed atmosphere shivered as if it had been shocked. For an instant, a sound burned Covenant's brain like the song of the merewives violated into outrage. The squalls seemed to loom forward like fists of wrath, clenched for retribution.
Reacting to some felt signal, the Giants began to haul the tubes upward, pulling hand-over-hand with swift strength.
Covenant tried to turn toward them. But the sight of Linden held him. She had gone as pale as panic. Her hands covered her mouth; her eyes gaped whitely into the distance.
He grabbed at her arms, dug his numb fingers into her flesh. Her gaze stared past him, through him. “Linden!” he snapped, acid with fear and truncated sight. “What is it?”
“The squalls.” She spoke to herself, hardly seemed aware she was speaking aloud. “They're part of the Dance. The merewives raise them to catch ships. I should've seen it before.”
As suddenly as a flash of intuition, her eyes sprang into focus. She thrashed against him. “The squalls?' she panted urgently. ”I've got to warn Honninscrave! They're going to attack!
In bare comprehension, he released her. She staggered backward, caught her balance, flung herself into a run toward the wheeldeck.
He almost went after her. Her tense, fleet form drew him powerfully. But the First and Galewrath were being lifted toward the surface. With Brinn and Cail? Why else did the Dancers want to attack?
Giants heaved at the hoses. White-knuckled with anticipation, Pitchwife's hands clenched one of the rails. Seadreamer stood ready to dive if the First or Galewrath needed aid. The scar under his eyes was avid for anything which was not Earth-Sight.
The atmosphere concentrated toward a detonation.
Voices rose from the direction of the wheeldeck-first Linden's, then Honninscrave's. The Master was bellowing commands across the Giantship. Every crewmember who was not needed at the hoses leaped for the rigging.
Peering far over the side in spite of his vertigo, Covenant saw vague shapes rise. Pitchwife called unnecessarily for ropes; they were already at hand. As heads broke water, the lines were cast downward.
The First snatched a look upward, caught one of the ropes with her free hand. Galewrath did the same. Immediately, they were pulled out of the sea.
The First clutched Brinn to her chest with one arm. Galewrath had Cail draped over her shoulder.
Both the Haruchai hung as limp as sleep.
Pitchwife and Seadreamer stretched out their hands to help the divers aboard. Covenant tried to squeeze past them to get a closer look at Brinn and Cail, but could not.
As the Swordmain and Galewrath gained the foredeck, the entire sky shattered.
The waterspouts and the stillness vanished in one fractured instant. From every direction, squalls sprang at the Giantship with the fury of gales. Rain hammered the decks; ire blotted out the horizons. In the midst of its spin, Starfare's Gem staggered into a vicious concussion of waters. The stone quivered from mast to keel.
Covenant stumbled against Seadreamer, clung to the mute Giant for support. If Honninscrave had not been forewarned, the dromond might have lost its yards in the twisting savagery of the blasts. The masts themselves might have been torn from their moorings. But the crew had started to slacken sail before the violence hit. The dromond lurched and bucked, kicked wildly from side to side. Sheets leaped into snarls and chaos; canvas retorted in the conflict of winds. But Starfare's Gem was not hurt.
Then all the squalls became one, and the confusion resolved into a blast like the howling of a riven heart. It caught the Giantship broadside, heeled it far over onto its side. Covenant might have tumbled overboard if Seadreamer had not held him. Rain scythed against his face. The Master was no longer audible through the roar and slash of the storm.
Yet the Giants knew what had to be done. Somehow, they tautened a sail on the foremast. Canvas bit into the blast: Starfare's Gem surged upright as it turned. For an instant, the vessel trembled from stem to stern, straining against the leash of its own immense weight. Then more sail took hold, and the dromond began to run along the wind.
Covenant reeled from Seadreamer to the First. He clutched at Brinn, imploring the Haruchai for some sign of life. But Brinn dangled with his face open to the rain and did not move. Perhaps he was not breathing. Covenant could not tell. He tried to shout up at the First, but no words came. Two more deaths on his head-two men who had served him with a fidelity as great as any Vow. Despite his power, he was helpless to succour them.