Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (75 page)

Sighing to herself, Linden walked

toward her confrontation with the Masters. Hell, I wish any of us could spare you. She could afford to spare none of her companions. Not now: not after everything that she had learned and endured under Melenkurion Skyweir. And the Mandoubt’s fate had demonstrated that Linden did not suffice to make their choices for them.

Her friends would live longer if they did not rely on her to protect them.

Eventually they reached the forehall, followed by Galt; and still Linden did not know how she would respond to the decision of the Masters. But when she found Handir waiting for her among a score of other Masters, including Clyme and Branl, with the gates of Revelstone sealed at his back, she knew that she had gauged their resolution accurately.

The Masters knew that she meant to leave Revelstone. They knew why. Stave had told them at her request. And they knew that she had heard the tale of their ancient encounter with the Insequent.

The closing of the gates was their answer.

For reasons of their own, they had provided lamps and torches aplenty. The forehall was bright with their

rejection. In spite of their characteristic dispassion, the Voice of the Masters and Stave’s other kinsmen conveyed the impression that they were poised for battle.

Linden did not hesitate. Striding directly to Handir, she stopped in front of him; inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Handir. Please open the gates. My friends and I need to go.”

She could imagine no circumstances

under which the Land might be saved by people who remained in Revelstone. And the croyel would not bring Jeremiah to her again. She could only rescue her son by going in search of him.

Handir replied to her bow with a nod. Formally he announced, “Linden Avery, the Masters will not permit your departure.”

Behind Linden, the Manethrall

muttered sour objurgations. Protests thronged in Liand. But they did not intrude between her and the Voice of the Masters.

Although she had known what to expect, Linden had to stifle a flare of anger. “Would you mind telling me why?”

She hugged the Staff against her chest to steady herself on its refined and blackened strength-and to show

Handir that she did not mean to challenge him with Law and Earthpower.

The inflexibility of his response seemed to give his words the force of a decree. We recognize that you are Linden Avery, Chosen and Sun-Sage, who accompanied ur-Lord Thomas Covenant to the redemption of the Land. Nonetheless we have not been swayed.

“At your word, we have not imprisoned the old man. Yet we are not persuaded that he may safely roam the Land. For reasons which Stave has doubtless described, we have not opposed the Stonedownor’s possession of orcrest. But our acquiescence does not suggest that we see no hazard in his ignorance. We deem that he, also, may not safely roam the Land.”

The Voice of the Masters paused momentarily. Then he conceded.

“These are small matters, however. In your name, we might set them aside. But we have greater concerns.”

Tension mounted among Linden’s companions. Anele shook his head anxiously from side to side while the Ramen tried to contain their indignation. With one hand, Liand gripped the pouch containing his piece of Sunstone. Only Stave appeared untouched by the attitude of the Masters.

Doubtless he knew precisely how and why they had reached their decision.

Holding her breath, Linden waited for Handir to continue.

“Linden Avery,” he pronounced. “you have grown in power, and may therefore wreak more harm. We must reason more stringently concerning your deeds and purposes.

“It appears that we erred gravely in

granting credence to the semblance of the ur-Lord. His glamour defied our discernment. For that reason, however, we must consider that you also may be masked in glamour. Indeed, we must consider that perhaps there has been no other glamour than yours. Thus it becomes conceivable that you removed the ur-Lord and his companion in order to prevent the salvation of the Land, and that you now seek darker hurts.”

Grimly Linden contained herself: she

felt sure that Handir was not done. But Mahrtiir did not emulate her restraint.

“Then you are indeed fools,” he snapped. “From the first, the distinction between the Ringthane and the seeming Unbeliever has been vivid to the Ramen. Her spirit is open to both love and injury. In all things, his purposes were concealed.

“And if our judgment may be questioned, that of the Ranyhyn may

not. She has partaken of the horserite.” The Manethrall’s voice throbbed with anger. “The Ranyhyn have bowed their heads to her-aye, and to Stave as well. If you assert that she is false, you have forgotten the faith of the Bloodguard, and are unworthy to name yourselves their descendants.”

Linden saw Masters on both sides of Handir clench their fists. Both Branl and Clyme stepped forward; and Galt left the rear of Linden’s small group to

stand with the other Humbled.

“Protect,” urged Anele, whispering as if he feared to speak more loudly. “Protect Anele. He is the Land’s hope. They will doom him.”

If Handir took umbrage, however, he did not show it. His countenance revealed nothing as he gazed past Linden at Mahrtiir.

“I do not say, Manethrall, that Linden

Avery is false,” he answered flatly. “I say only that we must consider it.”

Then he faced her again. “Yet the state in which you have returned to us is beyond question. You now resemble the transformed Staff of Law. Darkness fills your heart. Indeed, you are as tinder, awaiting only a spark to achieve destruction. According to your tale, this alteration has been wrought by the Blood of the Earth and your son’s plight. Mayhap you have spoken

truly. Yet the threat remains,

regardless of its cause.

More than any of your companions, you may not safely roam the Land. You have become an avatar of woe and ire, and all of your deeds will conduce to evil.”

Gritting her teeth, Linden swallowed an impulse to say, If any of that is true, you might want to ask yourself why I’m not threatening you. When she had

first entered Revelstone, Handir had assured her that the Masters could wrest her powers from her. She had believed him then: now she was not convinced. But she did not mean to respond with defiance. She simply wanted Handir to understand that she was not afraid. She had become a kind of Haruchai herself: like them, she could not be swayed.

Stiffly she asked. “Is there more?”

“There is,” he acknowledged. “A man who has shown himself greater than the Demondim is now among us. He is of the Insequent, as you have found to your cost. Yet in the spanning memory of the Haruchai, no Insequent has intruded upon the Land. In this, they resemble the Elohim. Heretofore both Elohim and Insequent have held themselves apart, except at the birth of Berek Halfhand’s High Lordship, and during the slow decline of the One Forest.

“Linden Avery, these are bleak auguries. And we have seen that the Harrow’s prowess exceeds you. If your own desires do not breed ruin, his craving for white gold and the Staff of Law will surely do so. To permit your departure will be to invoke calamity.”

There the Voice of the Masters stopped. He had said enough: Linden did not need to hear more in order to grasp the uncertainty of Stave’s kindred.

She felt surprise and confusion among Liand and the Ramen. They had not yet been told of her meeting with the Harrow, or of Stave’s tale, or of the Mandoubt’s passing. Nevertheless Handir compelled her full attention. Because she needed some outlet for her bitterness, she asked, “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with the fact that Stave defied you by telling me about the Vizard and the Theomach?”

Handir regarded her without

expression. “Stave has been adjudged. No further repudiation is seemly.”

After a moment, Linden nodded. In some ways, the worst part of Stave’s punishment was that the Masters no longer considered his actions to be of any consequence.

She was tempted to turn her back on them and their support. Let them continue to serve Lord Foul, in effect if

not in intent, by clinging to their doubts in isolation. She would find some other way to leave the Keep. For the Land’s sake, however, more than for Jeremiah’s, she tried one last argument. She did not doubt that the Masters would be needed-

“All right,” she said harshly. “I think I understand why you don’t trust me. But there’s one thing that you haven’t explained.

You weren’t able to beat the Demondim. If I hadn’t closed their caesure, you wouldn’t have been able to hold Revelstone. So what changed while I was away? What makes you think that now you can handle Esmer and Kastenessen and the skurj and Kevin’s Dirt and Falls and Roger Covenant and the Insequent, never mind Ravers and the Elohim and Joan’s ring and Corruption himself?

“Hasn’t it occurred to you yet that you

need me? That you need all of us, and any other allies you can find?”

The Voice of the Masters shook his head. His countenance revealed nothing. Nonetheless some subtle shift in the quality of his intransigence gave his reply a faint patina of sadness.

“Still you do not comprehend our Mastery. We do not seek to prove ourselves equal to every peril which besets the Land. We seek only to

forestall Desecration. Such evils may be performed only by those who wield power and love the Land and know despair.

“The true Thomas Covenant, ur-Lord and Unbeliever, charged us to preserve Revelstone. We will willingly spend our lives in the attempt. But our larger purpose does not require us to redeem the Land. It requires us to ensure that a new Landwaster does not commit a second Ritual of Desecration.”

In spite of her determination, Linden sagged. He was right: she had misapprehended the Masters. She had fixed her attention on the effects of what they had done; on their arrogance-As a result, she had missed the real point of Stave’s patient explanations. All of her attempts to persuade Handir and his kinsmen had been predicated on a misconception, an oblique error. She had faulted the application and results of their Mastery instead of addressing their

fundamental concerns; and so her efforts to move them had failed.

Now it was too late. She could not promise Handir that his concerns were groundless; that she would never become another Landwaster. Too many people had seen darkness in her: she had seen it herself. Too many people feared that her intentions would lead to ruin rather than hope.

You have it within you to perform

horrors.

Within her she holds the devastation of the Earth—

Doom awaits you in the company of the Dead.

All right, she tried to tell herself. She had failed here. She needed an entirely different approach. But for a few moments, she was caught and held by her regret for what her inadequacies

had cost her. Standing before Handir, she bowed her head like an admission of defeat.

Her heart was stone: she was not beaten. But she needed a little time to recover her concentration.

While she tried to think of an alternative, Stave stepped forward unexpectedly. “It boots nothing to bandy words,” he said to Handir. “I propose a test of truth.”

A slight lift of Handir’s chin betrayed that Stave had surprised him.

While Liand fumbled in consternation at his pouch, Stave explained. “I do not suggest the use of orcrest. A challenge by Earthpower will not suffice among Haruchai. Rather I offer a test of truth by combat.”

“Stave, no,” Linden protested. She had not forgotten the blows which he had already received from his kinsmen.

“I have no wish to cause harm,” he said, holding Handir’s gaze. “And it is certain that the Chosen does not, for she comprehends that the Land requires the Haruchai. Therefore I will confront any three of the Masters. Let each in turn assail me. If I drive each from his feet and do not fall, you will permit the Chosen to depart. If I am thrown and any of the three remains standing, she will withdraw to the plateau and seek her son’s salvation by some other means.”

Before the Voice of the Masters could speak, Galt replied with unwonted eagerness, “The Humbled accept this contest.” Apparently he, Clyme, and Branl had seen a personal affront in Stave’s actions or attitude.

“Damn it, Stave,” Linden muttered; but she knew of no argument that he would heed. His offer did not commit her to anything which would block her search for another egress. And after all that he had done for her, she could not

say aloud that she believed he would fall.

Liand began to object hotly; but Mahrtiir’s voice rode over his. Clarion as a trumpet, the Manethrall announced. “I also propose a test of truth.”

Linden wheeled toward him as he proclaimed, “Permit the Ringthane to enter the courtyard beyond this dark stone. Enclosed by the outer gates,

she will summon the Ranyhyn. Their approach will be witnessed by those Masters who watch from the tower.

“Heretofore the Ranyhyn that have answered her need are seven, Hynyn, Hyn, Narunal, Hrama, Rhohm, Whrany, and Naharahn. If she is answered now by more than those seven, you will acknowledge that the great horses approve both her desires and your caution. They have determined that she must depart-and

that some among you must accompany her. If she is answered by no more than seven, you will recognize that the Ranyhyn do not share your fear of Desecration. You will honor their wisdom. And if she is not answered, we will accept your refusal.”

Shaken, Linden strove to compose herself. Like Stave’s, Mahrtiir’s challenge did not undermine her. The Ranyhyn would answer: she was sure of that. Still the Manethrall’s audacity

staggered her. Surely in their entire history no Ramen had ever suggested making commitments on behalf of the great horses?

Yet Stave’s test was no less bold. He had been healed: the Humbled had not. But he had lost an eye. He was subtly crippled by the truncation of his sight.

Nevertheless Linden could not refuse either Stave’s aid or Mahrtiir’s. She needed to leave Revelstone-and had

no clear idea how to do so.

Liand brimmed with protests; but Pahni drew him aside, whispering urgently. She appeared to be asking him to accept the Manethrall’s authority.