When he looked up again, the sun was rising.
It came in pale brown across the Plains, a desert sun. Land features were lifted out of darkness as the night bled away. When he glanced about him, he saw that he was sitting in the centre of a wrecked Stonedown.
Houses lay in rubble; lone walls stood without ceilings to support; architraves sprawled like corpses; slabs of stone containing windows canted against each other. At first, he guessed that the village had been hit by an earthquake. But as the light grew stronger, he saw more clearly.
Ragged holes the size of his palm riddled all the stone as if a hail of vitriol had fallen on the village, chewing through the ceilings until they collapsed, tearing the walls into broken chunks, burning divots out of the hard ground. The place where he sat was pocked with acid marks. Every piece of rock in the area which had ever stood upright had been sieved into ruin.
“Hellfire!” he murmured weakly. “What happened here?”
Hamako had not moved; but his head was bowed. When he spoke, his tone said plainly that he was acutely familiar with the scene. “This also I desire to tell,” he sighed. “For this purpose I brought you here.”
Behind him, a hillock cracked and opened, revealing within it the chamber from which he and Covenant had left the underground corridors. Eight Waynhim filed into the sunrise, closing the entrance after them. But Hamako seemed unaware of them.
“This is During Stonedown, home of the Sunbane-warped who sought your life. They are my people.”
The Waynhim ranged themselves in a circle around Hamako and Covenant. After an initial glance, Covenant concentrated on Hamako. He wanted to hear what the man was saying.
“My people,” the former Stonedownor repeated. "A proud people-all of us. A score of turnings of the moon ago, we were hale and bold. Proud. It was a matter of great pride to us that we had chosen to defy the Clave.
“Mayhap you have heard of the way in which the Clave acquires blood. All submit to this annexation, as did we for many generations. But it was gall and abhorrence to us, and at last we arose in refusal. Ah, pride. The Rider departed from us, and During Stonedown fell under the na-Mhoram's Grim”
His voice shuddered. “It may be that you have no knowledge of such abominations. A fertile sun was upon us, and we were abroad from our homes, planting and reaping our sustenance — recking little of our peril. Then of a sudden the green of the sun became black-blackest ill-and a fell cloud ran from Revelstone toward During Stonedown, crossing against the wind.”
He clenched his hand over his face, gripping his forehead in an effort to control the pain of memory.
“Those who remained in their homes-infants, mothers, the injured and the infirm-perished as During Stonedown perished, in agony. All the rest were rendered homeless,”
The events he described were vivid to him, but he did not permit himself to dwell on them. With an effort of will, he continued, "Then despair came upon us. For a day and a night, we wandered the brokenness of our minds, heeding nothing. We had not the heart to heed. Thus the Sunbane took my people unprotected. They became as you have seen them.
“Yet I was spared. Stumbling alone in my loss-bemoaning the death of wife and daughter — I came by chance upon three of the Waynhim ere the sun rose. Seeing my plight, they compelled me to shelter.”
He raised his head, made an attempt to clear his throat of grief. “From that time, I have lived and worked among the rhysh, learning the tongue and lore and Weird of the Waynhim. ln heart and will, I have become one of them as much as a man may. But if that were the extent of my tale”- he glanced painfully at Covenant — “I would not have told it. I have another purpose.”
Abruptly, he stood and gazed around the gathered Waynhim. When Covenant joined him, he said, “Thomas Covenant, I say to you that I have become of the Waynhim. And they have welcomed me as kindred. More. They have made my loss a part of then-Weird. The Sunbane-warped live dire lives, committing all possible harm ere they die. In my name, this rhysh has taken upon itself the burden of my people. They are watched and warded-preserved from hurt, sustained in life-prevented from wreaking the damage of their wildness. For my sake, they are kept much as the animals are kept, both aided and controlled. Therefore they remain alive in such numbers. Therefore the rhysh was unwilling to redeem dhraga. And therefore”- he looked squarely at Covenant — “both rhysh and I are to blame for the harm you suffered.”
“No,” Covenant protested. “It wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself for things you can't foresee.”
Hamako brushed this objection aside. “The Waynhim did not foresee their own creation. Yet the Weird remains.” But then, somehow, he managed a smile. “Ah, Covenant,” he said, “I do not speak for any love of blame. I desire only your comprehension.” He gestured around him. “The Waynhim have come to offer their aid in pursuit of your companions. I wish you to know what lies behind this offer, so that you may accept it in the spirit of its giving, and forgive us for what we have withheld from you.”
A surge of respect and empathy blurred Covenant's responses again. Because he had no other way to express what he felt, he.said formally, as Atiaran had taught him, “I thank you. The giving of this gift honours me. Accepting it, I return honour to the givers.” Then he added, “You've earned the right.”
Slowly, the strain faded from Hamako's smile. Without releasing Covenant's gaze, he spoke to the Waynhim; and they answered in a tone of readiness. One of them stepped forward, placed something in his hand. When Hamako raised his hand, Covenant saw that the object was a stone dirk.
He winced inwardly. But Hamako's smile was the smile of a friend. Seeing Covenant's uncertainty, the man said, “There is no harm for you in this. May I have your hand?”
Consciously repressing a tremor, Covenant extended his right hand, palm downward.
Hamako grasped his wrist, looked for a moment at the scars left by Joan's nails, then abruptly drew a cut across the veins.
Covenant flinched; but Hamako held him., did not permit him to withdraw.
His anxiety turned to amazement as he saw that the cut did not bleed. Its edges opened, but no blood came from the wound.
Dhraga approached. Its broken arm hung in a splint, but its other wounds were healing.
It raised its uninjured hand. Carefully, Hamako made an incision in the exposed palm. At once, dark blood swarmed down dhraga's forearm.
Without hesitation, the Waynhim reached out, placed its cut directly on Covenant's. Hot blood smeared the back of his hand.
At that instant, he became aware of the other Waynhim. They were chanting softly in the clear desert dawn. Simultaneously, strength rushed up his arm, kicked his heart like a burst of elation. He felt suddenly taller, more muscular. His vision seemed to expand, encompassing more of the terrain. He could easily have wrested free of Bamako's grasp. But he had no need to do so.
Dhraga lifted its hand away.
The bleeding had stopped. Its blood was being sucked into his cut.
Dhraga withdrew. Hamako gave the dirk to durhisitar. While durhisitar cut its palm just as dhraga's had been cut, Hamako said, “Soon the power will come to appear unbearable, but I ask you to bear it. Remain quiet until all the Waynhim have shared this giving. If the ritual is completed, you will have the strength you require for a day-perhaps two.”