In a moment, the rest of the company was free. Pitchwife was uncertain on his feet, still suffering the effects of the blow he had received. But Brinn moved forward as if he were prepared to attempt anything in Covenant's service. Cail took charge of Linden. The First drew her new longsword, gripped it in both fists; and her eyes were as keen as the edges of the iron. Honninscrave flexed the chain he had broken, testing its usefulness as a weapon.
They spent a short moment savouring the taste of their release. Then the First sprang up the stairs out of the cell, and the company followed her.
The outer corridor disappeared around corners to left and right; but the First immediately chose the direction the departing Sandgorgon had taken. Covenant went down that passage behind her with Brinn and Honninscrave beside him and his other companions at his back. The Giants had to stoop because the corridor was too low-ceilinged for them. But beyond the first corner was a larger hallway marked by many cell doors. The hustin that had guarded the place were dead now, lying broken where Nom had left them. Covenant did not take the time to look into the cells; but he snapped all the door-bolts as he passed.
That hall gave into a warren of passages. The First was forced to halt, uncertain of her way. A moment passed before Brinn spotted a stair ascending from the end of one corridor. At once, the company started in that direction.
Ahead of them, a slim woman came down the stairs, began running toward them. When she saw them, she stumbled to a stop in surprise, then hurried forward again.
She was hardly recognizable as the Lady Alif. Her robe had been torn and blackened. Her hair hung about her in straggles; her scalp was mottled with sore bare patches. Four long red weals disfigured her right cheek.
Facing the First and Covenant, she panted. “The Sandgorgon-How is it that you-?” But an instant later, she registered Covenant's fire, the alert heat in his eyes. She sagged momentarily. “Ah, I feared for you. You were my hope, and when the Sandgorgon-I came to look upon you, thinking to see my own death.” Her features winced around her wounds. But her thoughts came together quickly, and she cried out, “You must flee! Kasreyn will levy all the might of the Sandhold against you.”
The First shot a glance at Covenant; but he was not Linden, could not tell whether to trust this woman. Memories of the Lady filled him with unease. Would she be here now if he had been able to succumb to her?
Sternly, the First said, “Lady, you have been harmed.”
She raised one hand to her cheek-a gesture of distress. She had been one of the Favoured; her position had depended on her beauty. But a moment later she dropped her hand, drew her dignity about her, and met the First's scrutiny squarely.
“The Lady Benj is not gentle in triumph. As she is the gaddhi's Favoured, I was not permitted to make defence.”
At that, the First gave a nod like a promise of violence. “Will you guide us from this place?”
The Lady did not hesitate. “Yes. There is no life for me here.”
The First started toward the stairs: the battered woman stopped her. “That way leads to the First Circinate. From thence there is no path outward but that which lies through the gates-the strength of the Sandhold. I will show another way.”
Covenant approved. But he had other plans. His form shed flickers of power at every heartbeat. “Tell me where you're going.”
Rapidly, she replied, “The Sandgorgon has made a great breach in the Sandhold. Following the beast's path, we will gain the open sand within the Sandwall. Then the surest path to the Harbour lies atop the Sandwall itself. It will be warded, but mayhap the Kemper's mind will be bent otherwhere-toward the gates.”
“And we will be less easily assailed upon the wall,” said the
First grimly, “than within the gates, or in the streets of Bhrathairain. It is good. Let us go.”
But Covenant was already saying, “All right. I'll find you on the wall. Somewhere. If I don't show up before then, wait for me at the Spikes.”
The First swung toward him, burned a stare at him. “Where do you go?”
He was acute with venom and power. “It won't do us any good to fight our way through the Guards. Kasreyn is the real danger. He can probably sink the ship without setting foot outside Kemper's Pitch.” Memories swirled in him-flaring recollections of the way he had once faced Foamfollower, Triock, and Lena after the defence of Mithil Stonedown and had made promises. Promises he had kept. “I'm going to bring this bloody rock down around his ears.”
In those days, he had had little or no understanding of wild magic. He had made promises because he lacked any other name for his passion. But now Linden was silenced, had gone blank and blind for his sake; and he was limned in white fire. When the First gave him a nod, he left the company, went at a run toward the stairs.
Brinn was instantly at his side. Covenant cast a glance at the Haruchai. They would be two lone men against the entire Sandhold. But they would be enough. At one time, he and Brinn had faced all Revelstone alone-and had prevailed.
But as he started up the stairs, a flash of creamy white snagged his attention, and he saw Findail running after him.
He hesitated on the steps. The Elohim ran as easily as Vain. When he reached Covenant, Findail said intently, “Do not do this. I implore you. Are you deaf as well as mad?”
For an instant, Covenant wanted to challenge Findail. His palms itched with power; flames skirled up and down his arms. But he held himself back. He might soon have a better chance to obtain the answers he wanted. Swinging away from the Elohim, he climbed the stairs as swiftly as the fire in his legs.
The stairs were long; and when they ended, they left him in the maze of halls and passages at the rear of the First Circinate. The place seemed empty. Apparently, the forces of the Sandhold had already been summoned elsewhere. He did not know which way to go. But Brinn was certain. He took the lead; and Covenant followed him at a run.
The breaking of rocks had stopped. The stones no longer trembled. But from a distance came the sound of sirens-raw and prolonged cries like the screaming of gargoyles. They wailed as if they were mustering all Bhrathairealm for war.
Chewing the knowledge that no flight from the Sandhold or Bhrathairain Harbour could hope to succeed while Kasreyn of the Gyre lived, Covenant increased his pace.
Sooner than he expected, he left the complex backways and poured like a flow of silver into the immense forecourt of the First Circinate, between the broad stairways which matched each other upward.
The forecourt was heavily guarded by hustin and soldiers.
A shout sprang at the ceiling. The forces of the Sandhold were ranked near the gates to fend off an attempted escape. They looked vast and dim, for night had fallen and the forecourt was lit only by torches held among the Guards. At the shout, assailants surged forward.
Brinn ignored them. He sped lightly to the nearest stairs, started upward. Covenant followed on the strength of wild magic. Findail moved as if the air about him were his wings.
Answering the shout, a cadre of hustin came clattering from the Second Circinate. Scores of Guards must have been waiting there, intending to catch the company in a pincer. Shadows flickered like disconcertion across their bestial faces as they saw the three men rising to meet them instead of fleeing.
Brinn tripped one of them, staggered a second, wrested the spear from a third. Then Covenant swept all the hustin from the stair with a sheet of flame and raced on.