Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (43 page)

poured out enough heat to scald her flesh if she touched it, and some of the rocks looked like they might melt. Warmth accumulated as it reflected back and forth between the walls of the barranca until even the wind was affected: a kind of artificial thermocline deflected the frigid current upward, away from Linden and her companions.

Gradually the ice in the streambed began to crack and evaporate. Before

long, a rivulet of fresh water was exposed beside the cairn. When a wide swath of the ice had melted, the horses were able to drink their fill without standing uncomfortably near the fiery stones.

Covenant’s theurgy disturbed Linden, despite her relief. Its effects lingered in her vision, but his magic itself remained hidden; closed to her senses. He could have been Anele in one of the old man’s self-absorbed phases,

gesturing at nothing.

When she was satisfied with the condition of the horses, she knelt beside the brook to quench her own thirst. There she noticed that the water flowed into the ravine instead of out toward the plains. She and her companions had not encountered a stream as they entered the barranca. Apparently the water was snowmelt, and the ravine’s floor sloped downward as it twisted deeper among the Last

Hills.

Careful to keep his distance from Linden, Jeremiah unpacked food while she set out blankets on the softening ground. Covenant continued to gesture until he had infused the mound with so much heat that it seemed to have magma at its core. Then he lowered his halfhand. Shaking his fingers as though they had cramped, he took the last of the wine and retreated to sit against the wall of the ravine opposite

the brook. There he began to drink with an air of determination, as if he wanted to insulate himself from Linden’s questions. The glow of the stones seemed to light echoes in his eyes, filling them with implied flames.

She did not hurry. At a comfortable distance from the cairn, she was able to remove both her robe and her cloak, and set them near the stones to dry, without shivering. When she drew breath, her lungs did not hurt. There

was no pain in her throat as she ate dried meat, stale bread, and old fruit; drank more water. Under other circumstances, she might have felt soothed rather than threatened.

But she had too many questions. She needed to ask them.

Jeremiah had settled himself near Covenant against the ravine wall. Protected by blankets from the dampness of the thawing dirt, Linden

sat on the floor of the barranca so that she could watch her companions’ faces.

She had spent the day attempting to organize her thoughts. And she had already decided to avoid challenging Covenant directly. If she made him angry-or cautious-she might lose more than she could hope to gain. Instead of voicing her deeper concerns, she broke the silence by saying with feigned nonchalance, “I’m just curious.

What did you two do to Inbull?”

I want to repay some of this pain.

Covenant’s attitude then, like his misdirections and falsehoods, violated her memories of the man he had once been.

He emptied the wineskin, tossed it aside; wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing much.” Obliquely Linden noticed that he was not growing

a beard. His physical presence was solid, demonstrable; but it was also incomplete. “Jeremiah held him down while I kicked him a few times. I wanted to break some of his ribs. But he’s too tough. I just bruised him a bit.”

The Unbeliever snorted a laugh. “Damelon didn’t like it. For a warrior, he’s still pretty squeamish. He’ll have to grow out of that if he wants to make a good High Lord. But he didn’t let anyone interfere.”

Linden studied him sharply, watching the alternation of embers and darkness in his gaze. Beyond question, he was not the man whom she had known. He had blamed the change on millennia of participation in the Arch of Time; but she was less and less inclined to believe him. The difference in him was too great.

She could not conceal her underlying seriousness as she changed the subject.

“I keep thinking about what happened in Berek’s camp. It worries me. Is it really true that we didn’t change the Land’s history? How is that possible? I healed too many people,” affected too many lives. And too many people know about it. How can that not-?”

“Hellfire, Linden,” Covenant interrupted with apparent good humor. “Don’t waste your time on that. If you have to worry, pick something worth worrying about. It’s the Theomach’s problem. He

brought us here. He has to clean up after us.

“I don’t know how he’ll do it. I could figure it out, but why should I bother? He’s right where he’s supposed to be. Where he would be if he hadn’t interfered with me. Now it’s up to him to make sure there’s no damage.

“At any rate, he’s serious about preserving the integrity of Time. More than anything, he doesn’t want to make

the Elohim notice him. They will if he lets history twist out of shape.”

Covenant’s eyes reflected the pale crimson-orange of the cairn. “Keeping everything on track shouldn’t be hard,” he mused. “being as how he’s Berek’s teacher and all. You changed some things, sure, but that can be a ripple or a thread. If he finds a way to weave what you did back into the tapestry of what’s supposed to happen, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“How can he do that?” Linden asked reflexively. Covenant’s unconcern troubled her. He was too glib-

“Hell, Linden,” he drawled, “you saw how effective a story can be. Mount Thunder didn’t really talk to Berek. Or not in a way he recognized. All he did was bleed, and feel desperate, and mumble some nonsense he didn’t understand. But he says the rock spoke to him, and people believe him because the FireLions came to his

rescue. Its how he tells the story that makes him the kind of hero his whole army is willing to die for.”

Nonsense-? She bit her lip. She was determined not to confront him; not to protest in any way. But she knew that the Seven Words were not nonsense-

“If the Theomach is clever enough when he talks about you,” Covenant continued, “he can make it fit right in with all the old legends.

“And I won’t even mention how stone ignorant Berek is.” He snorted contemptuously. “Eventually the Theomach is going to make him High Lord. On his own, Berek sure as hell couldn’t acquire all that lore and power. He’s got too far to go to be the kind of man who can find the One Tree and make a Staff of Law. He’ll believe anything that damn Insequent tells him.”

As an afterthought, Covenant added.

“And I’m still part of the Arch. Did you forget that? You can’t see it, but I’ve never stopped defending Time.”

Now Linden had to grit her teeth to stifle her protests. Covenant’s scorn repulsed her. Berek did not merit his disdain.

But this was the approach which she had chosen-and this was why she had chosen it. So that Covenant would speak more openly; expose more of

himself. The first words which she had heard the Theomach say were, And do you not fear that I will reveal you? She wanted to provoke the revelations which the Theomach had withheld.

And she did not intend to risk alienating Jeremiah any further. She had already lost too much of him, and would lose more. For his sake as well as her own, she swallowed her indignation.

Controlling herself grimly, she asked,

“What do you think, Jeremiah? Can the Theomach really protect the Land from what I’ve done?”

The boy shrugged without looking at her. “Sure. It’s what he’s good at. He must have spent a long time learning enough about time and history to interfere with us. For him, stopping a few ripples is probably trivial.”

His reply reminded her that it was not the Theomach who had objected to the

idea of summoning the Ranyhyn: it was Covenant.

All right,” she said slowly. If you say so, I believe you. Its just that the Theomach confuses me.” She hesitated for a moment, then turned back to Covenant. You may not have heard him, but he told me that I already know his ‘true name.’ Is that even possible?”

Of course its possible,” retorted

Covenant sardonically. “It has to be. He wanted you to do things his way. If he said something like that, and you could be sure it wasn’t true, he would be cutting his own throat.”

“But it can’t be true,” Linden countered. “How could it? I never even heard of the Insequent until Jeremiah mentioned them. How could I-?”

Covenant held up both hands to silence her. “It’s no good, Linden. You

can’t ask us that. The Theomach was right about one thing. While were here, we can’t distinguish between what you know and the Arch of Time. You’ve seen and heard and experienced too much about things that haven’t happened yet. In fact, most of them aren’t going to happen for thousands of years. If we even try to answer a question like that, the Elohim will erase us. They could make us disappear before we got to the second syllable.

“And since they’re the fucking Elohim,” he sneered, “they might not bother to put you back where you belong. They don’t approve of messing around with Time.”

“All right.” In spite of her visceral distrust, Linden accepted his assertion. Both he and the Theomach had made the same point days ago. If they agreed with each other, she could assume that they were telling the truth-or some aspect of the truth. “I can live with a

certain amount of ignorance.

“But it would help me to know more about what were trying to accomplish. Can you tell me why you wanted to reach the EarthBlood when Damelon first discovers it?” The Theomach had said, The peril of your chosen path I deemed too great. And he had explained his reasons to Linden privately. “How would that have been better? You have so much power-Wouldn’t Damelon notice us? Wouldn’t

that cause all kinds of trouble?”

Covenant seemed inclined to humor her. “You should stop obsessing about the Theomach,” he said easily. “He likes to talk, but most of what he said was bullshit. He just wanted your help.

“I could have kept Damelon from catching even a whiff of us. And Jeremiah has talents the Theomach can’t grasp.” With embers for eyes, Covenant gazed at the opposite wall.

“What we had in mind was better because we wouldn’t have had to come this far back. The closer we stayed to your ‘present,’ the safer we would have been.” For a moment, his voice held a splash of acid. “And we wouldn’t have had to cope with this winter, or the distance, or Berek, or any of the other problems we have now.

“Personally, I’m going to be delighted when the bloody Theomach finally gets what he deserves.”

“All right,” Linden said again, sighing inwardly. “I’ve been confused for so long that I’m getting used to it.” From her perspective, the difference between being nine and a half instead of ten thousand years away from her proper time was too vague to have any significance. Impelled by a growing sense of alarm, she edged closer to her more fundamental questions. “But there’s something that I really do need to know.

“Tell me if I have this right. We’re trying to find the Blood of the Earth. You want to use the Power of Command to trap Lord Foul and Kastenessen. Then I can use the same Power to free Jeremiah. And get back to where I belong.”

She would never leave the Land. She was already dead in her natural reality. But Jeremiah was not: she had seen his chest unmarked by bullets.

Covenant nodded, shedding shadows and reflected fire. “That’s the general idea. But you’ll have to think of a way to do everything you want with one Command. The EarthBlood is more powerful than you can imagine. No one survives tasting it twice.”

“In that case-” Linden faced her son squarely, although he still did not look at her. The emanations of the cairn felt like fever on her cheeks. “Jeremiah, honey. I have to ask you what you want

from me.

“I assume that Joan will die as soon as Lord Foul stops keeping her alive. When that happens”-her throat closed for an instant-“you’ll leave the Land.” She no longer cared that Covenant had lied about this. “The EarthBlood might let me do something about that.

“I might be able to protect your mind. Keep it the way it is now,” although she

could not be confident that any Command of Earthpower would survive the translation between realities. “Or I can concentrate on rescuing you from wherever you’re hidden. I can try to free you so that you’ll be able to live the life you want here.” If she could phrase her Command to accomplish such things. “But I can’t do both. And I can’t make that choice for you. It’s up to you.”

She did not believe that any single act

of will would affect both her and her son. She would not be able to save herself as well as him. Aiding him would doom her: she would remain where she was now. And no caesure would help her. Neither the Law of Death nor the Law of Life had been broken yet. If she succeeded at creating a Fall, the Arch would surely be destroyed.

When-or if-Covenant succeeded in his designs, Jeremiah would be lost to

her forever.

Covenant turned his head to look at her. Slowly he rubbed his cheeks. As he did so, the echoes of heat faded from his gaze. His eyes held only darkness.

She thought that she was ready to accept her bereavement until Jeremiah said without hesitation. “I want to stay here. With Covenant.” Then tears burst from her, as hot as the stones, and as

impossible to console. She was barely able to keep herself from sobbing aloud.

She had been obsessed by her desire to save Jeremiah from the Despiser, consumed by images of his torment: she had hardly considered the outcome of Covenant’s designs. Now she saw what would happen.

Her desire to put her arms around her son was so acute that it cut her heart.

Stop, she told herself. Stop.

It doesn’t help.

Cold seemed to creep up her back even though the furnace of stones retained its fierce radiance.

We still have to get there.

And she did not trust Covenant.

I want to repay some of this pain.

The peril of your chosen path I deemed too great.

And I won’t even mention how stone ignorant Berek is.

This version of Thomas Covenant had

lied to her about Jeremiah’s

circumstances as well as her own: a revealing mistake.