Yet his hurt, and his resolute self-expenditure on Covenant's behalf, restored her to herself. A measure of her familiar severity returned, steadying the labour of her heart. She climbed to her feet. “Come on. Let's get him back in the water.”
Sunder nodded. Gently, they lifted Covenant down the bank. Propping his left arm over the raft so that his right arm could hang free in the cool water, they shoved out into the centre of the current. Then they let the River carry them downstream under the bale of a red-ringed sun.
During the remainder of the afternoon, Linden struggled against her memory of Joan, her sense of failure. She could almost hear her mother whining for death. Covenant regained consciousness several times, lifted his head; but the poison always dragged him back before he could speak. Through the water, she watched the black tumescence creep avidly up his arm. It seemed much swifter than the previous time; Marid's poison had increased in virulence during its dormancy. The sight blurred her eyes. She could not silence the fears gnawing at her heart.
Then, before sunset, the River unbent among a clump of hills into a long straight line leading toward a wide ravine which opened on the Mithil. The sides of the ravine were as sheer as a barranca, and they reflected the low sunshine with a strange brilliance. The ravine was like a vale of diamonds; its walls were formed of faceted crystal which caught the light and returned it in delicate shades of white and pink. When the sun of pestilence dipped toward the horizon, washing the terrain in a bath of vermilion, the barranca became a place of rare glory.
People moved on the river-shore; but they gave no indication that they saw the raft. The River was already in shadow, and the brightness of the crystal was dazzling. Soon they left the bank and went up into the ravine.
Linden and Sunder shared a look, and began to steer toward the mouth of the barranca. In dusk macerated only by the last gleamings along the vale rim, they pulled their raft partway up the shore and carefully eased Covenant to dry ground. His arm was black and thick to the shoulder, cruelly pinched by both his ring and his shirt, and he moaned when they moved him.
She sat beside him, stroked his forehead; but her gaze was fixed on Sunder. “I don't know what to do,” she said flatly. “We're going to have to ask these people for help.”
The Graveller stood with his arms around his chest, cradling his pain. “We cannot. Have you forgotten Mithil Stonedown? We are blood that these people may shed without cost to themselves. And the Rede denounces him. I redeemed you from Mithil Stonedown. Who will redeem us here?”
She gripped herself. “Then why did we stop?”
He shrugged, winced. “We must have food. Little ussusimiel remains to us.”
“How do you propose to get it?” She disliked the sarcasm in her tone, but could not stifle it.
“When they sleep”- Sunder's eyes revealed his reluctance as clearly as words-“I will attempt to steal what we must have.”
Linden frowned involuntarily. “What about guards?”
“They will ward the hills, and the River from the hills. There is no other approach to this place. If they have not yet observed us, perhaps we are safe.”
She agreed. The thought of stealing was awkward to her; but she recognized that they had no alternative. “I'll come with you.”
Sunder began to protest; she stopped him with a brusque shake of her head. “You're not exactly healthy. If nothing else, you'll need me to watch your back. And,” she sighed, “I want to get some mirkfruit. He needs it.”
The Graveller's face was unreadable in the twilight. But he acquiesced mutely. Retrieving the last of his melons from the raft, he began to cut them open.
She ate her ration, then did what she could to feed Covenant. The task was difficult; she had trouble making him swallow the thin morsels she put in his mouth. Again, dread constricted her heart. But she suppressed it. Patiently, she fed slivers of melon to him, then stroked his throat to trigger his swallowing reflex, until he had consumed a scant meal.
When she finished, the night was deep around her, and a waning moon had just begun to crest the hills. She rested beside Covenant for a while, trying to gather up the unravelled ends of her competence. But she found herself listening to his respiration as if she expected every hoarse intake to be his last. She loathed her helplessness so keenly-A distinct fetor rode the breeze from across the River, the effect of the sun of pestilence on the vegetation. She could not rest.
Abruptly, Covenant began to flinch. A faint white light winked along his right side-burned and vanished in an instant.
She sat up, hissed, “Sunder.”
The light came again-an evanescent stutter of power from the ring embedded deep in Covenant's swollen finger.
“Heaven and Earth!” whispered Sunder. “It will be seen.”
“I thought-” She watched stupidly as the Graveller slid Covenant's hand into the pocket of his pants. The movement made him bare his teeth in a grin of pain. His dry stare was fixed on the moon. “I thought he needed the Sunstone. To trigger it.” His pocket muffled the intermittent gleaming, but did not conceal it entirely. “Sunder.” Her doming was still damp; she could not stop shivering. “What's happening to him?”
“Ask me not,” Sunder breathed roughly. “I lack your sight.” But a moment later he inquired, “Can it be that this Raver of which he speaks-that this Raver is within him?”
“No!” she snapped, repudiating the idea so swiftly that she had no chance to control her vehemence. “He isn't Marid.” Her senses were certain of this; Covenant was ill, not possessed. Nevertheless, Sunder's suggestion struck chords of anger which took her by surprise. She had not realized that she was investing so much of herself in Thomas Covenant Back on Haven Farm, in the world she understood, she had chosen to support his embattled integrity, hoping to learn a lesson of strength. But she had had no conception of where that decision would carry her. She had already witnessed too much when she had watched him smile for Joan-smile, and forfeit his life. An inchoate part of her clung to this image of him; his self-sacrifice seemed so much cleaner than her own. Now, with a pang, she wondered how much more she had yet to comprehend about him. And about herself. Her voice shook. “Whatever else he is, he isn't a Raver.”
Sunder shifted in the darkness as if he were trying to frame a question. But before he could articulate it, the dun flicker of Covenant's ring was effaced by a bright spangling from the walls of the barranca. Suddenly, the whole ravine seemed to be on fire.
Linden sprang erect, expecting to find scores of angry Stonedownors rushing toward her. But as her eyes adjusted, she saw that the source of the reflection was some distance away. The village must have lit an immense bonfire. Flames showed the profile of stone houses between her and the light; fire echoed off the crystal facets in all directions. She could hear nothing to indicate that she and her companions were in danger.
Sunder touched her shoulder. “Come,” he whispered. “Some high purpose gathers the Stonedown. All its people will attend. Perhaps we have been granted an opportunity to find food ”
She hesitated, bent to examine Covenant. A complex fear made her reluctant. “Should we leave him?” His skin felt crisp with fever.
“Where will he go?” the Graveller responded simply.
She bowed her head. Sunder would probably need her. And Covenant seemed far too ill to move, to harm himself. Yet he looked so frail-But she had no choice. Pulling herself upright, she motioned for the Graveller to lead the way.