One Tree (22 page)

That such is our intent?
She needed to talk to Covenant and the Giants, needed their reaction to what she had heard. What harm did the
Elohim
think they could prevent by demeaning or wounding Covenant? And why were they divided about it? What made the difference between Daphin and Chant?

But Infelice stood waiting atop the eftmound. She wore her gleamings like a cocoon of chiaroscuro from which she might emerge at any moment to astonish the guests of the
Elohimfest
—a figure not to be denied. Firmly she caught Linden’s gaze and did not release it.

“Sun-Sage.” Infelice spoke like the light of her raiment. “The
Elohimfest
has begun. What has transpired is an utterance of our being. You will be wise to hold it in your heart and seek to comprehend it. But it is past, and before us stand the purposes which have brought you among us. Come.” She beckoned gracefully. “Let us speak of these matters.”

Linden obeyed as if Infelice’s gesture had bereft her of volition. But she was immediately relieved to see that her companions did not mean to leave her alone. Covenant placed himself at her side. The Giants shifted forward behind her. Together they passed among the
Elohim
and ascended the slope.

Near the crown of the eftmound, they stopped. Infelice’s height, and the extra elevation of her position, placed her eyes on a level with Honninscrave’s and Seadreamer’s; but she kept her attention chiefly on Linden. Linden felt naked under that eldritch gaze; but she clung to her resolve and remained erect.

“Sun-Sage,” began Infelice, “the Giant Grimmand Honninscrave has surely shared with you his knowledge of
Elemesnedene
. Thus it is known to you that the bestowal of our gifts is not done freely. We possess much which is greatly perilous, not to be given without care. And knowledge or power which is not truly purchased swiftly tarnishes. If it does not turn against the hand that holds it, it loses all value whatsoever. And lastly we have little cause to relish intrusion from the outskirts of the Earth. Here we have no need of them. Therefore it is our wont to exact a price for that which is besought from us—and to refuse the seeking if the seeker can meet no price which pleases us.

“But you are the Sun-Sage,” she went on, “and the urgency of your quest is plain. Therefore from you and your companions I will require no feoffment. If your needs lie within our reach, we will meet them without price.”

Without—? Linden stared up at Infelice. The belling intensified in her mind, tangling her thoughts. All the
Elohim
seemed to be concentrating toward her and Infelice.

“You may speak.” Infelice’s tone conveyed only the barest suggestion of impatience.

Linden groaned to herself. Dear Christ. She turned to her companions, groping for inspiration. She should have known what to say, should have been prepared for this. But she had been braced for threats, not gifts. Infelice’s offer and the bells confused everything.

The eagerness in Honninscrave’s face stopped her. All his doubt had vanished. At once, she seized the opportunity. She needed a little time to take hold of herself. Without looking at Infelice, she said as flatly as she could, “I’m a stranger here. Let Honninscrave speak first.”

Like the passing of a great weight, she felt Infelice’s gaze shift to the Master. “Speak, then, Grimmand Honninscrave,” the
Elohim
said in a timbre of graciousness.

At his side, the First stiffened as if she were unable to believe that he was truly in no danger. But she could not refuse him her nod of permission. Pitchwife watched the Master with anticipation. Seadreamer’s eyes were shrouded, as if some inward vision muffled his perception of his brother.

Hope echoed like stars from under Honninscrave’s massive brows as he stepped forward. “You honor me,” he said, and his voice was husky. “My desire is not for myself. It is for Cable Seadreamer my brother.”

At that, Seadreamer’s attention leaped outward.

“Surely his plight is plain to you,” Honninscrave went on. “The Earth-Sight torments him, and that anguish has riven him of his voice. Yet it is the Earth-Sight which pilots our Search, to oppose a great evil in the Earth. The gift I ask is the gift of his voice, so that he may better guide us—and so that some easement may be accorded to his pain.”

Abruptly he stopped, visibly restraining himself from supplication. His pulse labored in the clenched muscles of his neck as he forced his Giantish passion to silence while Infelice looked toward Seadreamer.

Seadreamer replied with an expression of helpless and unexpected yearning. His oaken form was poignant with the acuteness of his desire for words, for some way to relieve the extravagant aggrievement of the Earth-Sight—or of the examination he had been given. He looked like a man who had glimpsed a saving light in the pall of his doom.

But Infelice took only a moment to consider him. Then she addressed Honninscrave again. She sounded faintly uninterested as she said, “Surely the voice of your brother may be restored. But you know not what you ask. His muteness arises from this Earth-Sight as day arises from the sun. To grant the gift you ask, we must perforce blind the eyes of his vision. That we will not do. We would not slay him at your request. Neither will we do him this wrong.”

Honninscrave’s eyes flinched wide. Protests gathered in him, desire and dismay fighting for utterance. But Infelice said, “I have spoken,” with such finality that he staggered.

The brief light turned to ashes in Seadreamer’s face. He caught at his brother’s shoulder for support. But Honninscrave did not respond. He was a Giant: he seemed unable to comprehend how a hope he had been nurturing with such determination could be denied in so few words. He made no effort to conceal the grief which knuckled his features.

At the sight, Linden trembled in sudden anger. Apparently the graciousness of the
Elohim
masked an unpity like arrogance. She did not believe Infelice. These people were Earthpower incarnate. How could they be unable—?

No. They were not unable. They were unwilling.

Now she did not hesitate to face Infelice. Covenant tried to say something to her. She ignored him. Glaring upward, she spat out the gift she had meant to request.

“If that’s true, then you’re probably going to tell me you can’t do anything about Covenant’s venom.”

At her back, she felt her companions freeze in surprise and apprehension—taken aback by her unexpected demand, disturbed by her frank ire. But she ignored that as well, focused her shivering against Infelice’s gaze.

“I don’t ask you to do anything about his leprosy. That has too many implications. But the venom! It’s killing him. It’s making him dangerous to himself and everyone around him. It’s probably the worst thing Foul has ever done to him. Are you going to tell me you can’t do anything about that?”

The bells rang as if they were offended or concerned. One of them said:

—She transgresses incondignly upon our welcome.

Another replied:

—With good reason. Our welcome has not been kindly.

But a third said:

—Our path is too strait for kindness. He must not be permitted to destroy the Earth.

Linden did not listen to them. All her wrath was fixed on Infelice, waiting for the tall woman to meet or deny her implicit accusation.

“Sun-Sage.” Infelice’s tone had hardened like a warning. “I see this venom of which you speak. It is plain in him—as is the wrong which you name leprosy. But we have no unction for this hurt. It is power—apt for good or ill—and too deeply entwined in his being for any disentanglement. Would you have us rip out the roots of his life? Power is life, and for him its roots are venom and leprosy. The price of such aid would be the loss of all power forever.”

Linden confronted Infelice. Rage set all her old abhorrence of futility afire. She could not endure to be rendered so useless. Behind her, Covenant was repeating her name, trying to distract her, warn or restrain her. But she had had enough of subterfuge and defalcation. The ready violence which lurked beneath the surface of
Elemesnedene
coursed through her.

“All right!” she flamed, daring Infelice to respond in kind, though she knew the
Elohim
had the might to snuff her like a candle. “Forget it. You can’t do anything about the venom.” A sneer twisted her mouth. “You can’t give Seadreamer back his voice. All right. If you say so. Here’s something you goddamn well
can
do.”

“Chosen!” cautioned the First. But Linden did not stop.

“You can fight the Despiser for us.”

Her demand stunned the Giants into silence. Covenant swore softly as if he had never conceived of such a request. But her moiling passion would not let her halt.

Infelice had not moved. She, too, seemed taken aback.

“You sit here in your
clachan
,” Linden went on, choosing words like items of accusation, “letting time go by as if no evil or danger in all the world has any claim on your hieratic self-contemplation,
when you could be
doing
something! You’re Earthpower! You’re all
made
out of Earthpower. You could stop the Sunbane—restore the Law—defeat Lord Foul—just by making the
effort
!

“Look at you!” she insisted. “You stand up there so you can be sure of looking down on us. And maybe you’ve got the right. Maybe Earthpower incarnate is so powerful we just naturally seem puny and pointless to you. But we’re trying!” Honninscrave and Seadreamer had been hurt. Covenant had been denied. The whole quest was being betrayed. She flung out her sentences like jerrids, trying to strike some point of vulnerability or conscience in Infelice. “Foul is trying to destroy the Land. And if he succeeds, he won’t stop there. He wants the whole Earth. Right now, his only enemies are puny, pointless mortals like us. In the name of simple
shame
if nothing else, you should be willing to stop him!”

As she ran out of words, lurched into silence, voices rose around the eftmound—expostulations of anger, concern, displeasure. Among them, Chant’s shout stood out stridently. “Infelice, this is intolerable!”

“No!” Infelice shot back. Her denial stopped the protests of the
Elohim
, “She is the Sun-Sage, and I will tolerate her!”

This unexpected response cut the ground from under Linden. She wavered inwardly; surprise daunted her ire. The constant adumbration of the bells weakened her. She was barely able to hold Infelice’s gaze as the tall
Elohim
spoke.

“Sun-Sage,” she said with a note like sorrow or regret in her voice, “this thing which you name Earthpower is our Würd.” Like Daphin, she blurred the sound so that it could have been either
Wyrd
or
Word
. “You believe it to be a thing of suzerain might. In sooth, your belief is just. But have you come so far across the Earth without comprehending the helplessness of Power? We are what we are—and what we are not, we can never become. He whom you name the Despiser is a being of another kind entirely. We are effectless against him. That is our Würd.

“And also,” she added as an afterthought, “
Elemesnedene
is our center, as it is the center of the Earth. Beyond its bounds we do not care to go.”

Linden wanted to cry out, You’re lying! The protest was hot in her, burning to be shouted. But Covenant had come to her side. His half-hand gripped her shoulder like talons, digging inward as if to control her physically.

“She’s telling the truth.” He spoke to her; but he was facing Infelice as if at last he had found the path of his purpose. Linden felt from him an anger to match her own—an anger that made him as rigid as bone, “Earthpower is not the answer to Despite. Or Kevin would never have been driven to the Ritual of Desecration. He was a master of Law and Earthpower, but it wasn’t what he needed. He couldn’t save the Land that way.

“That’s why the Land needs us. Because of the wild magic. It conies from outside the Arch of Time. Like Foul. It can do things Earthpower can’t.”

“Then it comes to this.” Honninscrave lifted his voice over Covenant’s. The frank loss in his tone gave him a dignity to equal his stature; and he spoke as if he were passing judgment on the
Elohim
. “In all parts of the Earth are told the legends of
Elemesnedene
. The
Elohim
are bespoken as a people of sovereign faery puissance and wonder, the highest and most treasurable of all wonders. Among the Giants these tales are told gladly and often, and those who have been granted the fortune of a welcome here account themselves blessed.

“But we have not been given the welcome of which the world speaks with such yearning. Nor have we been granted the gifts which the world needs for its endurance. Rather we have been reft of the
Haruchai
our companions and demeaned in ourselves. And we have been misled in our asking of gifts. You offer giving with feoffment, but it is no boon, for it places refusal beyond appeal.
Elemesnedene
is sadly altered, and I have no wish to carry this tale to the world.”

Linden listened to him urgently. Covenant’s attitude appalled her. Did he think that Chant’s desire for his ring was gratuitous? Was he deaf to the bells?

One of them was saying:

—He speaks truly. We are altered from what we were.

A darker answer knelled:

—No. It is only that these mortals are more arrogant than any other.

But the first replied:

—No. It is we who are more arrogant. In time past, would we not have taken this cost upon ourselves? Yet now we require the price of him, that we will be spared it.

At once, a third chime interposed:

—You forget that he himself is the peril. We have chosen the only path which offers hope to him as well as to the Earth. The price may yet befall the Appointed.

But still the
Elohimfest
went on as if there were no bells. Stiffly Infelice said, “Grimmand Honninscrave, you have spoken freely. Now be silent.” However, his dignity was beyond the reach of her reproof. Directing her gaze at Linden, she asked, “Are you content?”