Yet he took the time for one more inquiry. “How is she?”
Ceer shrugged fractionally. “She has gazed upon the face of Corruption. Yet she speaks clearly to the Stonedownors.” He paused, then said, “She is your companion. You have redeemed us from abomination. While we live, she and all your companions will suffer no further hurt.” He looked toward Brinn. “But she has warned us of a Raver. Ur-Lord, surely we must flee.”
A Raver, thought Covenant. Gibbon. Yes.
What did he do to her? The nightmare on her face was still vivid to him. What did that bastard do to her?
Without a word, he locked himself erect, and started stiffly down the tunnel into Revelstone.
The way was long; but metheglin and darkness sustained him. Vain's grin sustained him. The Demondim-spawn had awakened her? Had knelt to her? The ur-viles must have lied to Foamfollower. Hamako's rhysh must have been mistaken or misled. Did Vain bow in acknowledgment of Gibbon's effect on her?
What did that bastard do to her?
If Covenant had doubted his purpose before, or had doubted himself, he was sure now. No Clave or distance or impossibility was going to stand in his way.
Down through the city he went, like a tight curse. Down past Haruchai who scouted the city and watched the Riders. Down to the gates, and the passage under the watchtower. He had already killed twenty-one people; he felt that for himself he had nothing left to fear. His fear was for his companions; and his curse was for the Despiser. His purpose was clear.
As he moved through the tunnel, a score of Haruchai gathered 'around him like an honour-guard. They bore supplies which they had scoured from Revelstone for the flight of the prisoners.
With them, he passed the broken outer gates into the night.
Below him on the rocky slope of the foothill burned a large bonfire. Stark against the massed jungle beyond it, it flamed with a loud crepitation, fighting the rain-drenched green wood which the Haruchai fed to it. Its yellow light enclosed all the prisoners, defending them from darkness.
He could see a group of Stonedownors and Woodhelvennin huddling uncertainly near the fire. Haruchai moved around the area, preparing supplies, wresting more firewood from the jungle, standing watch. Vain stood motionless among them. Sunder, Hollian, and Linden sat close together as if to comfort each other.
He had eyes only for Linden. Her back was to him. He hardly noticed that all Brinn's people had turned toward him and dropped to one knee, as if he had been announced by silent trumpets. With the dark citadel rising behind him, he went woodenly toward Linden's back as if he meant to fall at her feet.
Sunder saw him, spoke quickly to Linden and Hollian. The Stonedownors jumped upright and faced Covenant as if he came bearing life and death. More slowly, Linden, too, climbed erect. He could read nothing but pain in the smudged outlines of her mien. But her eyes recognized him. A quiver like urgency ran through her. He could not stop himself. He surged to her, wrapped his arms around her, hid his face in her hair.
Around him, the Haruchai went back to their tasks.
For a moment, she returned his embrace as if she were grateful for it. Then, suddenly, she stiffened. Her slim, abused body became nausea in his arms. He tried to speak, but could not, could not sever the knots in his chest. When she tried to pull away from him, he let her go; and still he could not speak. She did not meet his stare. Her gaze wandered his frame to the old cut in the centre of his shirt. “You're sick.”
Sick? Momentarily, he failed to understand her. “Linden-?”
“Sick.” Her voice trailed like blood between her lips. “Sick.” Moving as if she were stunned by abhorrence or grief, she turned her back on him. She sank to the ground, covered her face with her hands, began to rock back and forth. Faintly, he heard her murmuring, “Sick. Sick.”
His leprosy.
The sight almost tore away his last strength. If he could have found his voice, he would have wailed, What did that bastard do to you? But he had come too far and had too many responsibilities. The pressure of the krill upheld him. Clenching himself as if he, too, could not be touched, he looked at Sunder and Hollian.
They seemed abashed by Linden's reaction. “Ur-Lord,” Sunder began tentatively, then faltered into silence. The weal around his neck appeared painful; but he ignored it. Old frown-marks bifurcated his forehead as if he were caught between rage and fear, comradeship and awe, and wanted Covenant to clarify them for him. His jaws chewed words he did not know how to utter.
“Ur-Lord,” Hollian said for him, “she has been sorely hurt in some way. I know not how, for Gibbon na-Mhoram said to her, 'You I must not harm.' Yet an anguish torments her,” Her pale features asked Covenant to forgive Linden.
Dumbly, he wondered where the eh-Brand found her courage. She was hardly more than a girl, and her perils often seemed to terrify her. Yet she had resources-She was a paradox of fright and valour; and she spoke when Sunder could not.
“You have bought back our lives from the na-Mhoram,” she went on, “at what cost to yourself I cannot know. I know not how to behold such power as you wield. But I have tasted the coercion of the Riders, and the imprisonment of the Clave. I thank you from my heart. I pray I may be given opportunity to serve you.”
Serve-? Covenant groaned. How can I let you serve me? You don't know what I'm going to do. Yet he could not refuse her. Somewhere in his own inchoate struggle of need and conviction, he had already accepted the service of the Haruchai, though their claim on his forbearance was almost forty centuries older than hers. Gripping himself rigid because he knew that if he bent he would break, he asked the only question he could articulate in the poverty of his courage. “Are you all right?”
She glanced at Sunder, at his neck. When he nodded, she replied, “It is nothing. A little hunger and fear. We are acquainted with such things. And,” she continued more strongly, “we have been blessed with more than our lives. The Haruchai are capable of wonders.” With a gesture, she indicated three of Brinn's people who stood nearby. “Ur-Lord, here are Cail, Stell, and Harn.” The three sketched bows toward Covenant.
“When we were guided from the hold, I was content with my life. But the Haruchai were not content.” Reaching into her robe, she brought out her dirk and Iianar. “They sought throughout Revelstone and recovered these for me. Likewise they recovered Sunder's Sunstone and blade.” Sunder agreed. Covenant wondered vaguely at the new intimacy which allowed Hollian to speak for Sunder. How much had they been through together? “How does it come to pass,” Hollian concluded, “that the Land has so forgotten the Haruchai?”
“You know nothing of us,” the one named Harn responded. “We know nothing of you. We would not have known to seek your belongings, had not Memla na-Mhoram-in revealed that they had been taken from you.”
Memla, Covenant thought. Yes. Another piece of his purpose became momentarily lucid. “Brinn.” The night seemed to be gathering around him. Sunder and Hollian had drifted out of focus. “Find her. Tell her what we need.”
“Her?” Brinn asked distantly. “What is it that we need?”
Until he understood the question, Covenant did not perceive that he was losing consciousness. He had lost too much blood. The darkness on all sides was creeping toward vertigo. Though he yearned to let himself collapse, he lashed out with curses until he had brought his head up again, reopened his eyes.