With a crooked smile, Sunder rose to his feet Covenant joined him, and the two of them faced their companions. To the First, Sunder said, “Pardon my unwelcome. The news of your quest smote me sorely. But you have come far across the unknown places of the Earth in pain and peril, and we are well met. The Land has need of you-and to you we may be of use.” Formally, he introduced Durris and Fole in case the Giants had not caught their names earlier. Then he concluded, “Our food is scanty, but we ask that you share it with us.”
The First replied by presenting Mistweave to the Stonedownors. They already knew Vain; and Findail she ignored as if he had ceased to impinge upon her awareness. After a glance around the shallow, wet cave, she said, "It would appear that we are better supplied for sharing. Graveler, how great is our distance from this Revelstone the Giantfriend seeks?”
“A journey of five days,” Sunder responded, “or of three, if we require no stealth toward us from the notice of the Clave.”
“Then,” stated the First, “we are stocked to the verge of bounty. And you are in need of bounty.” She looked deliberately at Hollian's thinness. “Let us celebrate this meeting and this shelter with sustenance.”
She unslung her pack; and the other Giants followed her example. Honninscrave and Mistweave started to prepare a meal. Pitchwife tried to stretch some of the kinks out of his back. The rain continued to Hammer relentlessly onto the hillside, and water ran down the slanted ceiling, formed puddles and rivulets on the floor. Yet the relative dryness and warmth of the shelter were a consolation Covenant had heard somewhere that exposure to an incessant rain could drive people mad. Rubbing his numb fingers through his beard, he watched his companions and tried to muster the courage for questions.
The First and Pitchwife remained stubbornly themselves in spite of rain and weariness and discouragement. While she waited for food, she took out her huge longsword, began to dry it meticulously; and he went to reminisce with Sunder, describing their previous meeting and adventures in Sarangrave Flat with irrepressible humour. Mistweave, however, was still doubtful, hesitant. At one point, he appeared unable to choose which pouch of staples he should open, confused by that simple decision until Honninscrave growled at him. Neither time nor the blows he had struck against the arghuleh had healed his self-distrust, and its cracks were spreading.
And the Master seemed to grow increasingly un-Giantlike. He showed a startling lack of enthusiasm for his reunion with the Stonedownors, for the company of more Haruchai- even for the prospect of food. His movements were duties he performed simply to pass the time until he reached his goal, had a chance to achieve his purpose Covenant did not know what that purpose was; but the thought of what it might be sent a chill through him. Honninscrave looked like a man who was determined to rejoin his brother at any cost.
Covenant wanted to demand some explanation; but there The Defenders of the Land was no privacy available. Setting the matter aside, he looked around the rest of the gathering.
Linden had taken Hollian to a dryer place against one wall and was examining the eh-brand with her senses, testing the health and growth of the child Hollian carried. The noise of the rain covered their quiet voices. But then Linden announced firmly, “It's a boy.” Hollian's dark eyes turned toward Sunder and shone.
Vain and Findail had not moved. Vain appeared insensate to the water that beaded on his black skin, dripped from his tattered tunic. And even direct rain could not touch the Appointed: it passed through him as if his reality were of a different kind altogether.
Near the edge of the cave, the Haruchai stood in a loose group. Durris and Fole watched the storm; Cail and Harn faced inward. If they were mentally sharing their separate stories, their flat expressions gave no sign of the exchange.
Like Bloodguard, Covenant thought. Each of them seemed to know by direct inspiration what any of the others knew. The only difference was that these Haruchai were not immune to time. But perhaps that only made them less willing to compromise.
He was suddenly sure that he did not want to be served by them anymore. He did not want to be served at all. The commitments people made to him were too costly. He was on his way to doom; he should have been travelling alone. Yet here were five more people whose lives would be hazarded with his. Six, counting Hollian's child, who had no say in the matter.
And what had happened to the other Haruchai- to those that had surely come like Fole and Durris to oppose the Clave?
And why had Sunder and Hollian failed?
When the food was ready, he sat down among his companions near the fire with his back to the cave-wall and his guts tight. The act of eating both postponed and brought closer the time for questions.
Shortly, Hollian passed around a leather pouch. When Covenant drank from it, he tasted metheglin, the thick, cloying mead brewed by the villagers of the Land.
Implications snapped at him. His head jerked up. “Then you didn't fail.”
Sunder scowled as if Covenant's expostulation pained him; but Hollian met the statement squarely. “Not altogether.” Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were sombre. “In no Stonedown or Woodhelven did we fail altogether-in no village but one.”
Covenant set the pouch down carefully in front of him. His shoulders were trembling. He had to concentrate severely to keep his hands and voice steady “Tell me.” All the eyes of the travellers were on Sunder and Hollian. “Tell me what happened.”
Sunder threw down the hunk of bread he had been chewing. “Failure is not a word to be trusted,” he began harshly. His gaze avoided Covenant, Linden, the Giants, nailed itself to the embers of the fire. “It may mean one thing or another. We have failed-and we have not.”
“Graveler,” Pitchwife interposed softly. “It is said among our people that joy is in the ears that hear, not in the mouth that speaks. The quest for the One Tree has brought to us many aghast and heart-cruel tales, and we have not always heard them well. Yet are we here-sorely scathed, it may be”- he glanced at Honninscrave- “but not wholly daunted. Do not scruple to grant us a part in your hurt.”
For a moment, Sunder covered his face as if he were weeping again. But when he dropped his hands, his fundamental gall was bright in his eyes.
“Hear me, then,” he said stiffly. “Departing Seareach, we bore with us the krill of Loric and the ur-Lord's trust. In my heart were hope and purpose, and I had learned a new love when all the old were dead.” All slain: his father by murder, his mother by necessity, his wife and son by his own hand. “Therefore I believed that we would be believed when we spoke our message of defiance among the villages.
“From The Grieve, we wended north as well as west, seeking a way to the Upper Land which would not expose us to the lurker-bourne of Sarangrave Flat.” And that part of the journey had been a pleasure, for they were alone together except for Stell and Harn; and Seareach from its coast to its high hills and the surviving remnant of Giant Woods had never been touched by the Sunbane. Uncertainty had clouded their earlier traversal of this region; but now they saw it as a beautiful land in the height of its fall glory, tasted the transforming savour of woodlands and animals, birds and flowers. The Clave taught that the Land had been created as a place of punishment, a gallow-fells, for human evil. But Covenant had repudiated that teaching; and in Seareach for the first time Sunder and Hollian began to comprehend what the Unbeliever meant.