Covenant was suffocating on heat and inchoate passion. His heart struggled in his chest. Brushing past Akkasri and Vain, he hastened toward the nearest corner of the master-rukh.
The people there did not notice him; the deep roar of the flame covered the sound of his boots, and their concentration was intent. He jerked one of them by the shoulder, pulled the individual away from the iron. The person was taller than he-a figure of power and indignation.
Covenant yelled up at the hooded face, “Where's Santonin?”
A man's voice answered, barely audible through the howl of the Banefire. “I am a Reader, not a soothreader!”
Covenant gripped the man's robe. “What happened to him?”
“He has lost his rukh!” the Reader shouted back. “At the command of the na-Mhoram, we have searched for him diligently! If his rukh were destroyed-if he were slain with his rukh still in his hands-we would know of it. Every rukh answers to the master-rukh, unless it falls into ignorant hands. He would not choose to release his rukh. Therefore he has been overcome and bereft. Perhaps then he was slain. We cannot know!”
“Halfhand!” Akkasri clutched at Covenant's arm, urging Mm toward the door.
He let her draw him out of the sacred enclosure. He was dizzy with heat and blind wild hope. Maybe the Reader spoke the truth; maybe his friends had overpowered their captor; maybe they were safe! While the na-Mhoram-cro closed the door, he leaned against the outer wall and panted at the blessedly cool air.
Vain stood near him, as blank and attentive as ever.
Studying Covenant, Akkasri asked, “Shall we return to your chamber? Do you wish to rest?”
He shook his head. He did not want to expose that much of his hope. With an effort, he righted his reeling thoughts. “I'm fine.” His pulse contradicted him; but he trusted she could not perceive such things. “Just explain it. I've seen the master-rukh. Now tell me how it works. How you fight the Sunbane.”
“By drawing its power from it,” she answered simply. "If more water is taken from a lake than its springs provide, the lake will be emptied. Thus we resist the Sunbane.
“When the Mhoram first created the Banefire, it was a small thing, and accomplished little. But the Clave has increased it generation after generation, striving for the day when sufficient power would be consumed to halt the advance of the Sunbane.”
Covenant fumbled mentally, then asked, “What do you do with all this power? It's got to go somewhere.”
“Indeed. We have much use for power, to strengthen the Clave and continue our work. As you have learned, much is drawn by the Riders, so that they may ride and labour in ways no lone man or woman could achieve without a ruinous expenditure of blood. With other power are the Coursers wrought, so that the Sunbane will have no mastery over them. And more is consumed by the living of Revelstone. Crops are grown on the upland plateau — kine and goals nourished-looms and forges driven. In earlier generations, the Clave was hampered by need and paucity. But now we flourish, Halfhand. Unless some grave disaster falls upon us,” Akkasri said in a pointed tone, “we will not fail,”
“And you do it all by killing people,” he rasped. “Where do you get that much blood?”
She turned her head away in distaste for his question. “Doubtless you possess that knowledge,” she said stiffly. “If you desire further enlightenment, consult the na-Mhoram.”
“I will,” he promised. The state of the sacred enclosure reminded him that the Clave saw as evil a whole host of things which he knew to be good; and actions which they called good made his guts heave. “In the meantime, tell me what the na-Mhoram”- to irritate her, he used the title sardonically — “has in mind for me. He wants my help. What does he want me to do?”
This was obviously a question for which she had come prepared. Without hesitation, she said, “He desires to make of you a Reader.”
A Reader, he muttered to himself. Terrific.
“For several reasons,” she went on evenly. "The distinction between Reading and soothreading is narrow, but severe. Perhaps with your white ring the gap may be bridged, giving the Clave knowledge to guide its future. Also with your power, perhaps still more of the Sunbane may be consumed. Perhaps you may exert a mastery over the region around Revelstone, freeing it from the Sunbane. This is our hope. As you wielded more power, the Sunbane would grow weaker, permitting the expansion of your mastery, spreading safety farther out into the Land. Thus the work of generations might be compressed into one lifetime.
“It is a brave vision, Halfhand, worthy of any man or woman. A great saving of life and Land. For that reason Gibbon na-Mhoram rescinded the command of your death.”
But he was not persuaded. He only listened to her with half his mind. While she spoke, he became aware of an alteration in Vain. The Demondim-spawn no longer stood completely still. His head shifted from side to side, as if he heard a distant sound and sought to locate its source. His black orbs were focused. When Akkasri said, “Will you answer, Halfhand?” Covenant ignored her. He felt suddenly sure that Vain was about to do something. An obscure excitement pulled him away from the wall, poised him for whatever might happen.
Abruptly, Vain started away along the curving hall.
“Your companion!” the na-Mhoram-cro barked in surprise and agitation. “Where does he go?”
“Let's find out.” At once, Covenant strode after Vain.
The Demondim-spawn moved like a man with an impeccable knowledge of Revelstone. Paying no heed to Covenant and Akkasri, or to the people he passed, he traversed corridors and stairways, disused meeting halls and refectories; and at every opportunity he descended, working his way toward the roots of the Keep.
Akkasri's agitation increased at every descent. But, like Vain, Covenant had no attention to spare for her. Searching his memory, he tried to guess Vain's goal. He could not. Before long, Vain led him into passages he had never seen before. Torches became infrequent. At times, he could barely distinguish the black Demondim-spawn from the dimness.
Then, without warning, Vain arrived in a cul-de-sac lit only by light reflecting from some distance behind him. As Covenant and Akkasri caught up with him, he was staring at the end of the corridor as if the thing he desired were hidden beyond it.
“What is it?” Covenant did not expect Vain to reply; he spoke only to relieve his own tension. “What are you after?”
“Halfhand,” snapped the na-Mhoram-cro, “he is your companion.” She seemed afraid, unprepared for Vain's action. “You must control him. He must stop here.”
“Why?” Covenant drawled, trying to vex her into a lapse of caution, a revelation. “What's so special about this place?”
Her voice jumped. “It is forbidden!”
Vain faced the blind stone as if he were thinking. Then he stepped forward and touched the wall. For a long moment, his hands probed the surface.
His movements struck a chord in Covenant's memory. There was something familiar about what Vain was doing.
Familiar?
The next instant, Vain reached up to a spot on the wall above his head. Immediately, lines of red tracery appeared in the stone. They spread as if he had ignited an intaglio: in moments, red limned a wide doorway.