“Memla,” he said thickly. “Tell her we need Coursers.”
“Yes, ur-Lord.” Brinn did not move. But two or three Haruchai left the fire and loped easily up toward the watchtower.
Someone placed a bowl of metheglin in Covenant's hands. He drank it, tried to squeeze a semblance of clarity into his vision, and found himself staring at Vain.
The Demondim-spawn stood with his arms slightly bent, as if he were ready to commit acts which could not be foreseen. His black eyes stared at nothing; the ghoul grin was gone from his black lips. But he still wore the heels of the Staff of Law, one on his right wrist, the other on his left ankle. The burns he had received two nights ago were almost healed.
As a man caught in the coercion — Was that it? Was the Clave responsible for Vain? Ur-viles serving the Clave? How far did the na-Mhoram's mendacity extend? Vain's blackness echoed the night. How had he roused Linden? And why? Covenant wanted to rage at the Demondim-spawn. But he himself had killed-without control or even reluctance. He lacked the rectitude to unravel Vain's intent. There was too much blood on his head.
And not enough in his veins. He was failing. The illumination cast by the bonfire seemed to shrink around him. He had so little time left-Listen, he started to say. This is what we're going to do. But his voice made no sound.
His hand groped for Brinn's shoulder. Help me. I've got to hold on. A little longer.
“Covenant.”
Linden's voice tugged him back into focus. She stood before him. Somehow, she had pulled herself out of her inner rout. Her eyes searched him. “I thought I saw-” She regarded the wild tangle of his beard as if it had prevented her from identifying him earlier. Then her gaze found the thick red scars on his wrists. A sharp gasp winced through her teeth.
At once, she grabbed his forearms, drew his wrists into the light. “I was right. You've lost blood. A lot of it.” Her physician's training rose up in her. She studied him, gauging his condition with her eyes and hands. “You need a transfusion.”
The next moment, she perceived the newness of the scars. Her gaze jumped to his face. “What did they do to you?”
At first, he could not respond. The soothtell was too exigent; he felt unable to bear the answer she needed.
But she misunderstood his silence. Abomination stretched her visage. “Did you-?”
Her apprehension broke him out of his paralysis. “No. Not that. They did it to me. I'll be all right.”
A sag of relief softened her expression. But her eyes did not leave his face. She struggled for words as if the conflict of her emotions blocked her throat. Finally, she said hoarsely, "I heard you shout. We almost got free.“ Her stare drifted out of focus, turned inward. ”For a while, I would have given my soul to hear you shout again.“ But memories made her flee outward again. ”Tell me-“ she began, fighting for severity as if it were essential to her. ”Tell me what happened to you."
He shook his head. “I'm all right.” What else could he say? “Gibbon wanted blood. I didn't have a chance to refuse.” He knew that he should explain, that all his companions needed to know what he had learned in the soothtell. But he had no strength.
As if to spare Covenant the necessity of speech, Brinn said flatly, “The ur-Lord's life was forfeit in the soothtell. Yet with wild magic he healed himself.”
At that, Linden's orbs darkened. Her lips echoed soundlessly, Healed? Her gaze dropped to the old scar behind the cut in his shirt. The recovery of determination which had drawn her out of herself seemed to crumple. Losses which he could not begin to understand overflowed from her eyes. She turned away from him, turned her face toward the night. “Then you don't need me.”
Hollian reached out to her. Like a child, Linden put her arms around Hollian's neck and buried her face in the eh-Brand's shoulder.
Covenant did not react. The pressure of his rage and grief was all that stood between him and darkness. He could not move without falling. What did that bastard do to you?
“Ur-Lord,” Brinn said, “we must not delay. The na-Mhoram was not slain. Surely the Clave will soon strike against us.”
“I know.” Covenant's heart was crying uselessly, Linden! and hot streaks of self-reproach ran from his eyes; but his voice was adamantine. “We'll go. As soon as Memla gets here.” He did not doubt that Memla would come. She had no choice; she had already betrayed the Clave for him. Too many people had already done too much for him.
“That is well,” Brinn replied. “Where will we go?”
Covenant did not falter. He was sure of what he had to do. His Dead had prepared him for this. “To find the One Tree. I'm going to make a new Staff of Law.”
His auditors fell abruptly silent. Incomprehension clouded Hollian's face. Sunder frowned as if he wanted to speak but could not find the right words. The knot of Stonedownors and Woodhelvennin held themselves still. Vain betrayed no flicker of interest. But the eyes of the Haruchai shone.
“The old tellers,” Brinn said slowly, “relate that the Lords, even at the time of Kevin, had a legend of the One Tree, from which the Staff of Law was made. Ur-Lord Covenant, you conceive a bold undertaking. You will be accompanied. But how will you seek the One Tree? We have no knowledge of it.”
No knowledge, Covenant breathed wanly. He had guessed as much. South of the Land lay the lifeless Grey Desert. In the north, the long winter of the Northron Climbs was said to be impassable. And to the west, where the Haruchai lived, there was no knowledge of the One Tree. He accepted that. If Berek had gone west to find the One Tree, he would surely have encountered Brinn's people. With an effort, Covenant answered, “Neither do I. But we'll go east. To the Sea.” Where the Giants had come from. “To get away from the Clave. After that-I don't know.”
Brinn nodded. “It is good. This the Haruchai will do. Cail, Stell, Ceer, Harn, Hergrom, and myself will share your quest, to ward you and your companions. Two score will return to our people, to give them the knowledge we have gained.” His voice sharpened slightly. “And to consider our reply to the depredations of this Clave. Those who remain will see these Stonedownors and Woodhelvennin to their homes-if such aid is desired.”
The faces of the nine freed people of the Land expressed immediately their eagerness to accept Brinn's offer.
“The old tellers speak much of the Giants-of their fidelity and laughter, and of their dying,” Brinn concluded. “Gladly will we look upon their home and upon the Sea which they loved.”
Now, Covenant said to himself. If ever he intended to refuse the Haruchai, escape his being dependent on and responsible for them again after four thousand years, now was the time. But he could not. He was no longer able to stand without Brinn's support. Isn't it bad enough, he groaned, that I'm the one who destroyed the Staff? Opened the door for the Sunbane? Do I have to carry this, too? But he needed the Haruchai and could not refuse.
For a moment, the night reeled; but then he felt hands touch his chest, and saw Sunder standing before him. The Graveller held his chin up, exposing his damaged neck as if with that injury he had earned answers. His eyes reflected the firelight like the echoing of his torn mind.
“Covenant,” he said in a clenched tone, using that name instead of the title ur-Lord, as if he sought to cut through awe and power and command to the man behind them. “I have journeyed far in your name, and will journey farther. But there is fear in me. The eh-Brand foretells a sun of pestilence-after but two days of rain. In freeing us, you have damaged the Clave. And now the Sunbane quickens. Perhaps you have done such harm that the Clave can no longer moderate the Sunbane. Perhaps you have wrought a great peril for the Land.”