Linden stared. Her companions started in surprise. The Haruchai were poised on the balls of their feet. Covenant's mouth opened and closed involuntarily.
But Honninscrave faced the approaching woman and bowed as if she were worthy of worship.
She stopped before them. Her smile radiated power of such depth and purity that Linden could hardly bear to look at it. The woman was a being who transcended any health-sense. Softly, she said, “I am pleased that you so desire our goodwill.” Her voice also was music; but it did not explicate the ringing in Linden's mind. “I am Daphin.” Then she nodded to Honninscrave's bow. “You are Giants. We have known Giants.”
Still the bells confused Linden, so that she was not sure of what she was hearing.
Daphin turned to Brinn. “You we do not know. Perhaps the tale of your people will interest us.”
The chiming grew louder. Daphin was gazing directly at Linden. Linden had no control over the sound in her head. But she almost gasped hi shock when Daphin said, “You are the Sun-Sage.”
Before Linden could react or respond, the woman had turned to Covenant. He was staring at her as if his astonishment were a wound. At once, her smile fell. The bells clamoured like surprise or fear. Distinctly, she said, “You are not.” As the questers gaped at her, she suddenly melted down into the grass and was gone, leaving no trace of her passage on the wide lea.
Seven: Elemesnedene
LINDEN clamped her hands over her ears, and the chiming faded-not because of her hands, but because the gesture helped her focus her efforts to block or at least filter the sound. She was sweating in the humid sunlight. The Sun-Sage? Hints of panic flushed across her face. The Sun-Sage?
Covenant swore repeatedly under his breath. His tone was as white as clenched knuckles. When she looked at him, she saw him glaring at the grass where Daphin had vanished as if he meant to blight it with fire.
The Haruchai had not moved. Honninscrave's head had jerked back in astonishment or pain. Seadreamer gazed intently at Linden in search of understanding. Pitchwife stood beside the First as if he were leaning on her. Her eyes knifed warily back and forth between Linden and Covenant.
Vain's black mien wore an aspect of suppressed excitement.
“Sun-Sage?” the First asked rigidly. “What is this 'Sun-Sage?' ”
Linden took a step toward Covenant. He appeared to be cursing at her. She could not bear it. “I'm not:' Her voice sounded naked in the sunshine, devoid of any music which would have given it beauty. ”You know I'm not."
His visage flamed at her. “Damnation! Of course you are. Haven't you learned anything yet?”
His tone made her flinch. Daphin's You are not formed a knot of ire in him that Linden could see as clearly as if it had been outlined on his forehead. He would not be able to alter the Sunbane. And because of him, the Elohim had withdrawn her welcome.
With hard patience, the First demanded again, “What is this 'Sun-Sage'?”
Covenant replied like a snarl, “Somebody who can control the Sunbane.” His features were acute with self-disgust.
“They will not welcome us.” Loss stretched Honninscrave's voice thin. “Oh, Elohim!”
Linden struggled for a way to answer Covenant without berating him. I don't have the power. Sweat ran into her eyes, blurring her vision. The tension of the company felt unnatural to her. This anger and grief seemed to violate the wide mansuetude of Woodenwold and the maidan. But then her senses reached farther, and she thought, No. That's not it. In some way, the valley's tranquillity appeared to be the cause of this intensity. The air was like a balm which was too potent to give anything except pain.
But the opening of her percipience exposed her to the bells again. Or they were drawing closer. Chiming took over her mind. Pitchwife's voice was artificially muffled in her ears as he said, “Mayhap their welcome is not yet forfeit. Behold!”
She blinked her sight clear in time to see two figures come flowing up out of the ground in front of her. Smoothly, they transformed themselves from grass and soil into human shapes.
One was Daphin. Her smile was gone; in its place was a sober calm that resembled regret. But her companion wore a grin like a smirk.
He was a man with eyes as blue as jacinths, the same colour as his mantle. Like Daphin's cymar, his robe was not a garment he had donned, but rather an adornment he had created within himself. With self-conscious elegance, he adjusted the folds of the cloth. The gleam in his eyes might have been pleasure of mockery. The distinction was confused by the obligate of the bells.
“I am Chant,” he said lightly. “I have come for truth.”
Both he and Daphin gazed directly at Linden.
The pressure of their regard seemed to expose every fiber of her nature. By contrast, her health-sense was humble and crude. They surpassed all her conceptions.
She reacted in instinctive denial. With a wrench of determination, she thrust the ringing into the background. The
Elohim searched her as Gibbon had once searched her. Are you not evil? No. Not as long as the darkness had no power. “I'm not the Sun-Sage.”
Chant cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
“If anybody is, it's him.” She pointed at Covenant, trying to turn the eyes of the Elohim away. “He has the ring.”
They did not waver. Daphin's mien remained pellucid; but Chant's smile hinted at fierceness. “We have no taste for untruth”-his tone was satin-“and your words are manifestly untrue. Deny not that you are what you are. It does not please us. Explain, rather, why this man holds possession of your white ring.”
At once, Covenant snapped, “It's not her ring. It's mine. It's always been mine.” Beside the Elohim, he sounded petulant and diminished.
Chant's smile deepened, gripping Linden in its peril. “That also is untrue. You are not the Sun-Sage.”
Covenant tensed for a retort. But Daphin forestalled him. Calmly, she said, “No. The ring is his. Its mark lies deeply within him.”
At that, Chant looked toward his companion; and Linden sagged in relief. The shifting of his gaze gave her a palpable release.
Chant frowned as if Daphin's contradiction broke an unspoken agreement. But she went on addressing Linden. “Yet here is a mystery. All our vision has seen the same truth — that the Sun-Sage and ring-wielder who would come among us in quest are one being. Thereon hinge matters of grave import. And our vision does not lie. Rawedge Rim and Woodenwold do not lie. How may this be explained, Sun-Sage?”
Linden felt Covenant clench as if he were on the verge of fire. “What do you want me to do?” he grated. “Give it up?”
Chant did not deign to glance at him. “Such power ill becomes you. Silence would be more seemly. You stand among those who surpass you. Permit the Sun-Sage to speak.” Notes of anger ran through the music of the bells.
Covenant growled a curse. Sensing his ire, Linden twisted herself out of the grip of the Elohim to face him. His visage Was dark with venom.
Again, his vehemence appeared unnatural-a reaction to the air rather than to his situation or the Elohim. That impression sparked an inchoate urgency in her. Something here outweighed her personal denials. Intuitively, she pitched her voice so that Covenant must hear her.