Abruptly, the Graveller muttered, “Ah, well. I have no longer any other demand upon me. And you are not to be denied. In the name of Nassic my father-and of Marid my friend, whose life you strove to redeem at your cost-I will guide you where you wish to go. Now eat. Even prophets and madmen require sustenance.”
Covenant nodded dimly. Shutting his mind to the smell of blood, he took a bite of the ussusimiel.
It could not compare with aliantha for taste and potency; but it felt clean in his mouth, and seemed to relieve some of the congestion of his pain. As he ate, the darkness receded somewhat.
After he had consumed his share of the fruit, he settled himself to rest for a while. But Sunder stood up suddenly. “Come,” he said to Linden. “Let us be on our way.”
“He shouldn't be moved,” she replied flatly.
“There will be aliantha nigh the River. Perhaps they will have power to aid him.”
“Maybe. But he shouldn't be moved. It'll make the venom spread.”
“Linden Avery,” Sunder breathed. “Marid was my friend. I cannot remain in this place.”
Covenant became conscious of a dim fetor in the air. It came from his arm. Or from Marid's corpse.
For a moment, Linden did not respond. Then she sighed, “Give me the knife. He can't travel with his arm like that.”
Sunder handed her his poniard. She looked closely at Covenant's swelling. It had grown upward past his elbow. Its black pressure made the rope bite deeply into his arm.
He watched tacitly as she cut away the tourniquet.
Blood rushed at his wound. He cried out.
Then the darkness came over him for a time. He was on his feet, and his arms were hooked over the shoulders of his companions, and they were moving westward. The sun beat at them as if they were an affront to its suzerainty. The air was turgid with heat; it seemed to resist respiration. In all directions, the stone and soil of the Plains shimmered as if they were evaporating. Pain laughed garishly in his head at every step. If Linden or Sunder did not find some kind of febrifuge for him soon-Linden was on his left now, so that her stumbling would not directly jar his sick arm. Oblivion came and went. When Covenant became aware of the voice, he could not be sure of it. It might have been the voice of a dream.
"And he who wields white wild magic gold
is a paradox -
for he is everything and nothing,
hero and fool,
potent, helpless-
and with the one word of truth or treachery
he will save or damn the Earth
because he is mad and sane,
cold and passionate,
lost and found."
Sunder fell silent. After a moment, Linden asked, “What is that?” She panted the words raggedly.
“A song,” said the Graveller. “Nassic my father sang it-whenever I became angry at his folly. But I have no understanding of it, though I have seen the white ring, and the wild magic shining with a terrible loveliness.”
Terrible, Covenant breathed as if he were dreaming.
Later, Linden said, “Keep talking. It helps-Do you know any other songs?”
“What is life without singing?” Sunder responded. “We have songs for sowing and for reaping-songs to console children during the sun of pestilence-songs to honour those whose blood is shed for the Stonedown. But I have set aside my right to sing them.” He made no effort to conceal his bitterness. “I will sing for you one of the songs of a-Jeroth, as it is taught by the Riders of the Clave.”
He straightened his shoulders, harrowing Covenant's arm. When he began, his voice was hoarse with dust, short-winded with exertion; but it suited his song.
' “Oh, come, my love, and bed with me;
Your mate knows neither lust nor heart-
Forget him in this ecstasy.
I joy to play the treacher's part.'
Acute with blandishments and spells,
Spoke a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.
'Diassomer Mininderain,
The mate of might, and Master's wife,
All stars' and heavens' chatelaine,
With power over realm and strife,
Attended well, the story tells,
To a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.
'With a-Jeroth the lady ran;
Diassomer with fear and dread
Fled from the Master's ruling span.
On Earth she hides her trembling head,
While all about her laughter wells
From a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.
' “Forgive!' “ she cries with woe and pain;
Her treacher's laughter hurts her sore.
“His blandishments have been my bane.
I yearn my Master to adore.”
For in her ears the spurning knells
Of a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.
'Wrath is the Master — fire and rage.
Retribution fills his hands.
Attacking comes he, sword and gage,
'Gainst treachery in all the lands.
Then crippled are the cunning spells
Of a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.
'Mininderain he treats with rue;
No heaven-home for broken trust,
But children given to pursue
All treachery to death and dust.
Thus Earth became a gallow-fells
For a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells. '
The Graveller sighed. “Her children are the inhabitants of the Earth. It is said that elsewhere in the Earth-across the seas, beyond the mountains-live beings who have kept faith. But the Land is the home of the faithless, and on the descendants of betrayal the Sunbane wreaks the Master's wrath.”
Covenant expostulated mutely. He knew as vividly as leprosy that the Clave's view of history was a lie, that the people of the Land had been faithful against Lord Foul for millennia. But he could not understand how such a lie had come to be believed. Time alone did not account for this corruption.
He wanted to deny Sunder's tale. But his swelling had risen black and febrile halfway to his shoulder. When he tried to find words, the darkness returned.
After a time, he heard Linden say, “You keep mentioning the Riders of the Clave.” Her voice was constricted, as if she suffered from several broken ribs. “What do they ride?”
“Great beasts,” Sunder answered, “which they name Coursers.”
“Horses?” she panted.
“Horses? I do not know this word.”
Do not —? Covenant groaned as if the pain in his arm were speaking. Not know the Ranyhyn? He saw a sudden memory in the heat-haze: the great horses of Ra rearing. They had taught him a lesson he could hardly bear about the meaning of fidelity. Now they were gone? Dead? The desecration which Lord Foul had wrought upon the Land seemed to have no end.
“Beasts are few in the Land,” Sunder went on, "for how can they endure the Sunbane? My people have herds-some goats, a few cattle-only because large effort is made to preserve their lives. The animals are penned in a cave near the mountains, brought out only when the Sunbane permits.