One Tree (2 page)

But she had not kept that vow. The obverse of her sharp vulnerability was a peculiar and necessary usefulness. The same percipience which so exposed her to dismay had also enabled her to provide for her own recovery from Courser-poison and broken bones. That capacity had touched her medical instincts deeply, giving a validation to her identity which she had thought lost when she had been translated out of the world she understood. In addition, she had been able to serve her companions by helping them against the murderous ill of the lurker of the Sarangrave.

And then the company had escaped Sarangrave Flat into Seareach, where the Sunbane did not reign. Surrounded by natural health, by fall weather and color as pristine as the beginning of life, and accompanied by Giants—especially by Pitchwife, whose irrepressible humor seemed a balm for every darkness—she had felt her ankle heal under the eldritch influence of
diamondraught
. She had tasted the tangible loveliness of the world, had experienced keenly the gift Covenant had given to the Dead of The Grieve. She had begun to know in the most visceral way that her health-sense was accessible to good as well as to evil—and that perhaps she could exercise some choice over the doom which Gibbon had foretold for her.

That was her hope. Perhaps in that way if in no other she would be able to transform her life.

The old man whose life she had saved on Haven Farm had said,
Be true. There is also love in the world
. For the first time, those words did not fill her with dread.

She hardly looked away from Covenant as they descended the Giant-wrought stairs. He appeared equal to anything. But she was also aware of other things. The clear morning. The salt-rimed emptiness of
Coercri
. The intransigent black peril of Vain. And at her back, the
Haruchai
. The way they paced the stone belied their characteristic dispassion. They seemed almost avid to explore the unknown Earth with Covenant and the Giants. Linden concentrated on these details as if they formed the texture of the new life she desired.

However, as the companions moved out into the direct sunlight on the base of the city, where the First, Seadreamer, and Pitchwife waited with Ceer and Hergrom, Linden’s gaze leaped outward as if it were drawn by a lodestone; and she saw Starfare’s Gem easing its way into the levee.

The Giantship was a craft to amaze her heart. It rose above her, dominating the sky as her sight rushed to take it in. While its Master, Grimmand Honninscrave, shouted orders from the wheeldeck which stood high over the vessel’s heel, and Giants swarmed its rigging to furl the canvas and secure the lines, it coasted into its berth with deft accuracy. The skill of its crew and the cunning of its construction defied the massive tan-and-moire granite of which it was made. Seen from nearby, the sheer weight of the
dromond
’s seamless sides and masts disguised the swiftness of its shape, the long sweep of the decks, the jaunty angle of the prow, the just balance of the spars. But when her perceptions adjusted to the scale of the ship, she could see that it was apt for Giants. Their size attained a proper dimension among the shrouds. And the moire of the stone sides rose from the water like flames of granite eagerness.

That stone surprised Linden. Instinctively she had questioned the nature of the Giantship, believing that granite would be too brittle to withstand the stress of the seas. But as her vision sprang into the ship, she saw her error. This granite had the slight but necessary flexibility of bone. Its vitality went beyond the limitations of stone.

And that vitality shone through the
dromond
’s crew. They were Giants; but on their ship they were more than that. They were the articulation and service of a brave and breathing organism, the hands and laughter of a life which exalted them. Together the stone and the Giants gave Starfare’s Gem the look of a vessel which contended against the powerful seas simply because no other test could match its native exultation.

Its three masts, each rising high enough to carry three sails, aspired like cedars over the wheeldeck, where Honninscrave stood. He lolled slightly with the faint unevenness of the Sea as if he had been born with combers underfoot, salt in his beard, mastery in every glance of his cavernous eyes. His shout in answer to Pitchwife’s hail echoed off the face of
Coercri
, making The Grieve resound with welcome for the first time in many centuries. Then the sunlight and the ship blurred before Linden as sudden tears filled her eyes as if she had never seen joy before.

After a moment, she blinked her sight clear and looked again at Covenant. Tautness had twisted his face into a grin like a contortion; but the spirit behind that grimace was clear to her. He was looking at his means to achieve his quest for the One Tree, for the survival of the Land. And more than that: he was looking at Giants, the kindred of Saltheart Foamfollower, whom he had loved. She did not need him to explain the desire and fear which caused his grin to look so much like a snarl. His former victory over Lord Foul had been cleansed of Despite by the personal anodyne of Foamfollower’s laughter. And the cost of that victory had been the Giant’s life. Covenant now regarded the Giants of Starfare’s Gem with yearning and memory: he feared he would bring them to Foamfollower’s fate.

That also Linden understood. Like his obduracy, her own stubbornness had been born in loss and guilt. She knew what it meant to distrust the consequences of her desires.

But the arrival of the Giantship demanded her attention. Noise bubbled out of the vessel like a froth of gaiety. Hawsers were thrown
to Pitchwife and Seadreamer, who snubbed them taut to the long-unused belaying-posts of the pier. Starfare’s Gem rubbed its shoulders against the sides of the levee, settled itself at rest. And as soon as the
dromond
had been secured, the Master and his crew of two score Giants swung down ropes and ladders, bounding to the piers.

There they saluted the First with affection, hugged Seadreamer, shouted their pleasure at Pitchwife. The First returned their respects gravely: with her iron hair and her broadsword, she held their familiarity at a distance. But Pitchwife expressed enough mirth to compensate for Seadreamer’s mute resignation; and shortly the Giants began to roil forward to look at the city of the Unhomed, their ancient lost kindred. Linden found herself surrounded by weathered, brawny men and women twice her height—sailors built like oaks, and yet as full of movement and wonder as saplings. All of them were plainly dressed in the habiliments of their work—in sarks of mail formed of interlocking stone discs and heavy leather leggings—but nothing else about them was drab. They were colorful in language and exuberance and salt humor. With a swirl of activity, they restored life to The Grieve.

Their impulse to explore the city, investigate the handiwork of their long-dead people, was palpable to Linden. And Covenant’s eyes shone in response—a recollection of the
caamora
by which he had redeemed
Coercri
from anguish, earning the title the First had given him,
Giantfriend
. But through the tumult, monolithic jests and laughter to which Pitchwife riposted gleefully, questions that the
Haruchai
answered with characteristic tersity, salutations which dazzled Linden and made Covenant straighten his back as if he sought to be taller, the First addressed Honninscrave sternly, telling him of her decision to aid Covenant’s quest. And she spoke of urgency, of the growing chancre of the Sunbane and of the difficulty of locating the One Tree, creating a new Staff of Law in time to prevent the Sunbane from tearing the heart out of the Earth. The Master’s excitement sobered rapidly. When she asked about the state of the Giantship’s supplies, he replied that the Anchormaster, his second-in-command, had reprovisioned the
dromond
while waiting off the littoral of the Great Swamp. Then he began calling his crew back to the ship.

Several of the Giants protested good-naturedly, asking for the story of The Grieve. But Covenant was nodding to himself as if he were thinking of the way the Clave fed the Banefire and the Sunbane with blood. Honninscrave did not hesitate. “Patience, sluggards!” he responded. “Are you Giants, that a little patience eludes you? Let stories await their turn, to ease the labor of the seas. The First requires haste!”

His command gave Linden a pang of regret. The ebullience of these Giants was the happiest thing she had seen in a long time. And she thought that perhaps Covenant might want a chance to savor what he had achieved here. But she understood him well enough to know that he would not accept honor for himself without persuasion. Moving closer to him, she thrust her voice through the clamor. “Berek found the One Tree, and he didn’t have any Giants to help him. How far away can it be?”

He did not look at her. The
dromond
held his gaze. Under his beard, he chewed a mood which was half excitement, half trepidation.

“Sunder and Hollian will do everything they can,” she went on. “And those
Haruchai
you freed aren’t going to sit on their hands. The Clave is already in trouble. We can afford a little time.”

His eyes did not shift. But she felt his attention turn toward her. “Tell me,” he murmured, barely audible through the interchanges of the Giants. They and the
Haruchai
had ranged themselves expectantly
along the pier. “Do you think I should have tried to destroy the Clave? While I had the chance?”

The question struck a nerve in her. It resembled too closely another question he would have asked if he had known enough about her. “Some infections have to be cut out,” she replied severely. “If you don’t kill the disease somehow, you lose the patient. Do you think those fingers of yours were cut off out of spite?”

His brows flinched. He regarded her as if she had startled him out of his personal concerns, made him aware of her in a way which would not allow peace between them. The muscles of his throat were tight as he asked, “Is that what you would have done?”

She could not keep from wincing. Gibbon had said to her
, You have committed murder. Are you not evil?
Suddenly she felt sure that Covenant would have agreed with the Raver. Fighting to conceal her self-betrayal, she answered, “Yes. Why else do you have all that power?” She already knew too well how much she wanted power.

“Not for that.” Around them, the Giants had fallen silent, waiting for his decision. In the unanticipated quiet, his vehemence rang out like a promise over the lapping of the Sea. But he ignored his audience. Facing Linden squarely, he articulated, “I’ve already killed twenty-one of them. I’m going to find some other answer.”

She thought he would go on. But a moment later he seemed to see and recognize her abashment, though he could not have known its cause. At once, he turned to the First. Softly he said, “I’d feel better if we got started.”

She nodded, but did not move. Instead she drew her falchion, gripped it in both hands like a salute.

“Giantfriend.” As she spoke, there was a shout in her words, though her voice was quiet. “To all our people you have given a gift which we will repay. This I say in the name of the Search, and of the Earth-Sight”—she glanced at Seadreamer—“which guides us still, though I have chosen another path to the same goal.” Seadreamer’s face knotted around the white scar running under his eyes across the bridge of his nose; but he permitted himself to show no protest. The First concluded, “Covenant Giantfriend, we are yours while your purpose holds.”

Covenant remained silent, a man tangled in gratitude and self-doubt. But he bowed his head to the leader of the Search.

The gesture touched Linden. It became him, as if he had found in himself the grace, or perhaps the sense of worth, to accept help. But at the same time she was relieved to escape the hidden conflicts which had surfaced in his questions. When the First said firmly, “Let us sail,” Linden followed the Giants without hesitation toward Starfare’s Gem.

The side of the Giantship leaned hugely over her; and when she set her hands and feet to the heavy thews of the rope-ladder which the crew held for her, the ascent seemed to carry her surprisingly high, as if the vessel were even larger than it appeared to be. But Cail climbed protectively behind her, and Giants surged upward on all sides. As she stooped through the railing onto the foredeck, she forgot her discomfiture. The
dromond
reached out to her like an entrancement. Unaccustomed to such stone, she could not extend her percipience very far around her; but all the granite within her range felt as vital as living wood. She half expected to taste sap flowing beneath the surfaces of the Giantship. And that sensation intensified as her companions boarded the craft. Because of his vertigo and his half-hand, Covenant had difficulty climbing; but Brinn soon helped him past the rail. Following either Covenant or Linden, Vain smoothly ascended the
ladder, then stopped like a statue at the edge of the foredeck, smiling his black, ambiguous smile. Ceer and Hergrom appeared to flow up the ropes. And as every set of feet took hold of the stone, Starfare’s Gem radiated more bustling energy to Linden’s nerves. Even through her shoes, the granite felt too buoyant to be overborne by any Sea.

Sunlight covered the piers, spangled the gently heaving strip of water along the shipside, shone into the face of
Coercri
as if this day marked the first true dawn since the destruction of the Unhomed. Responding to Honninscrave’s commands, some of the Giants positioned themselves to release the moorings. Others leaped into the rigging, climbing the heavy cables as lightly as children. Still others went below, where Linden could feel them tending the inner life of the ship until they passed beyond her inexperienced perceptions. In moments, the lower sails began to ripple in the breeze; and Starfare’s Gem eased out to Sea.

Linden tried to watch everything as the
dromond
slipped backward from the levee, then turned toward open water. Shifting from side to side, she saw the Giants unfurling canvas as if the labor were done by incantation rather than effort. Under her feet, the deck began to roll; but the seas were light, and the Giantship’s great weight made it stable. She felt no discomfort. Her gaze repeatedly intersected Covenant’s, and his excitement heightened hers. His expression was free of darkness; even his beard seemed to bristle with possibilities. After a moment, she became aware that he was breathing words along the breeze: