“We will not see such a gift lost. Though we do not comprehend him, we conceive that the gifts given to Covenant by his Dead are vital and necessary. Vain must be recovered.”
Linden understood. The Elohim had planted a seed of possibility, and its fruit was apparent in the gazes of her companions. That she should take Covenant's ring and use it.
She shook her head. That would be a violation as fundamental as any rape. His ring was his peril and his hope, and she would not take it from him. Its power meant too much to her.
And she had other reasons to deny the idea. Covenant's plight could wait, at least until the company was safely away from this place; but Vain's could not. What the Demondim-spawn needed from her was not what it appeared to be.
To the First, she said flatly, “No.” In this, at least, she knew who she was. “It isn't up to you.”
“I am the First-” began the Swordmain.
“It would've been Covenant's decision,” Linden went on severely, clamping herself rigid with all her will, “but he's in no condition. That leaves me.”
She could not explain herself for fear the Elohim would hear her and take action. They were surely able to hear anything they desired, uncover any purpose they chose. So she invented reasons as if she knew what she was talking about.
“You can't do it. He's so important because he comes from outside. Like the white gold. You don't. We wouldn't be here at all if the job could be done by anybody else. You can't take his place,” she insisted. "I'm going to, whether I can or not.
"And I say we're going to leave. Let Vain take care of himself. We don't even know why he was given to Covenant.
Maybe this is the reason. To get him into Elemesnedene, so he can do whatever he was created for. I don't know, and I don't care. We have what we came to get. And I don't want to keep Covenant here. They're after his ring. I'll be damned if we're going to stand around and let them hurt him again."
The First replied with a perplexed frown, as though Linden's stability had become a matter of open doubt. But Brinn showed no doubt. In a voice like stone, he said, “We know nothing of these questions. Our ignorance was thrust upon us when we sought to serve the promise we have given the ur-Lord.” His accusation was implicit. "We know only that he has been harmed when he should have been in our care. And Vain is his, given to him in aid of his quest. For that reason alone, we must stand by the Demondim-spawn.
“Also,” he continued inflexibly, “you have become a question in our sight. Vain made obeisance to you when you were redeemed from Revelstone. And he it was who strove to bear you from the peril of the graveling and the Sunbane-sickness. Perchance it was he who brought the sur-jheherrin to our aid against the lurker, in your name. Do you lack all wish to serve those who have served you?”
Linden wanted to cry out at his words. He rubbed them like salt into her failures. But she clung to her purpose until the knuckles of her will whitened. “I understand what you're saying.” Her voice quivered, deserted by the flat dispassion which she had tried for so long to drill into herself. “But you can't get in there. They've closed us out. And we don't have any way to make them change their minds. Covenant is the only one they were ever afraid of, and now they don't have that to worry about.” If Covenant had chosen that moment to utter his blank refrain, her control might have snapped. But he was mercifully silent, lost in the absence of his thoughts. “Every minute we stay here, we're taking the chance they might decide to do something worse.”
The challenge of Brinn's gaze did not waver. When she finished, he replied as though her protest were gratuitous, 'Then heal him. Restore to him his mind, so that he may make his own choosing on Vain's behalf."
At that, Linden thought she would surely break. She had already endured too much. In Brinn's eyes, she saw her flight from Covenant during his venom-relapse returning to impugn her. And Brinn also knew that she had declined to protect Covenant from Infelice's machinations. The First had not omitted that fact from her tale. For a moment, Linden could not speak through the culpability which clogged her throat.
But the past was unalterable; and for the present no one had the right to judge her. Brinn could not see Covenant deeply enough to judge her. Covenant's plight was hers to assess-and to meet as she saw fit. Gritting her control so hard that it ached in the bones of her skull, she said, “Not here. Not now. What's happened to him is like amnesia. There's a chance it'll heal itself. But even if it doesn't-even if I have to do something about it-I'm not going to take the risk here. Where the Elohim can tamper with anything.” And Vain might be running out of time. “If I'm not completely careful-” She faltered as she remembered the darkness behind his eyes. “I might extinguish what's left.”
Brinn did not blink. His stare said flatly that this argument was just another refusal, as unworthy of Covenant as all the others. Despairingly, Linden turned back to the First.
“I know what I'm doing. Maybe I've already failed too often. Maybe none of you can trust me. But I'm not losing my mind.” In her ears, her insistence sounded like the frail pleading of a child. “We've got to get out of here. Go back to the ship. Leave.” With all her determination, she refrained from shouting, Don't you understand? That's the only way we can help Vain! “We've got to do it now.”
The First debated within herself. Both Honninscrave and Seadreamer looked studiously elsewhere, unwilling to take sides in this conflict. But Pitchwife watched Linden as if he were remembering Mistweave. And when the First spoke, he smiled like the lighting of a candle in a dark room.
Dourly, she said, “Very well. I accept your command in this. Though I can fathom little concerning you, you are the Chosen. And I have seen evidence of strange strength in you, when strength was least looked for. We will return to Starfare's Gem.”
Abruptly, she addressed the Haruchai. “I make no claim upon your choosing. But I ask you to accompany us. Vain lies beyond your reach. And the Giantfriend and the Chosen require every aid.”
Brinn cocked his head slightly as if he were listening to a silent consultation. Then he said, “Our service was given to the ur-Lord- and to Linden Avery in the ur-Lord's name. Though we mislike that Vain should be abandoned, we will not gainsay you.”
That Vain should be abandoned. Linden groaned. Every word the Haruchai uttered laid another crime to her charge. More blood on her hands, though she had taken an oath to save every life she could. Maybe Brinn was right. Maybe her decision was just another denial. Or worse. Are you not evil?
But she was suddenly too weak to say anything else. The sunlight blurred her sight like sweat. When Cail offered her his arm, she accepted it because she had no choice. She felt unable to support herself. As she joined her companions moving along the River Callowwail toward Woodenwold and the anchorage of Starfare's Gem, she was half-blind with sunlight and frailty, and with the extremity of her need to be right.
The maidan seemed to stretch out forever ahead of her. Only the cumulative rush of the River marked the expanse, promising that the grass was not like Elemesnedene, not featureless and unending, Cail's assistance was bitter and necessary to her. She could not comprehend the gentleness of his aid. Perhaps it was this quality of the Haruchai which had driven Kevin Landwaster to the Ritual of Desecration; for how could he have sustained his self-respect when he had such beings as the Bloodguard to serve him?