gem until the lurker quailed and fled, yowling insanely.
When he had the chance, during times of rest or less frenetic travel, Honninscrave asked the
For a time which must have been measured in centuries after the fall of Foul's Creche, the
From cave to mud pit, quagmire to swamp, underground spring to riverbed, they moved northward across the years, seeking terrain in which they could flourish. And they found what they needed in the Sarangrave. For them, it was a place of safety: their clay flesh and mobility, their ability to live in the bottoms of quicksands and streams, suited them perfectly to the Flat. And in safety they healed their old terror, became creatures who could face pain and risk, if need arose.
Thus their gratitude toward the Pure One grew rather than diminished through the generations. When they saw Giants in peril, their decision of aid was made without hesitation for all the
And with that aid, the company finally reached the narrow strip of open heath which lay between the time- swollen Sarangrave and the boundary hills of Seareach. The quest was in grim flight from the most desperate assault of the
The Giants ran a short distance across the heath like Ranyhyn tasting freedom, then wheeled to look behind them.
The
The
The First joined him and gazed into the Sarangrave with an unwonted softness in her eyes. Brinn joined him; all his companions joined him, standing like a salute to the unquestionable worth of the
Later, the
Linden sat, alert and awkward, with her back braced against Seadreamer's shin; she needed the support because of the rigid splint on her left leg. She had awakened a day and a half after her injury and had taken pains to assure her companions that her ankle was knitting properly.
Covenant sorely wanted to speak with her. But for the present, sitting in the bracken with the afternoon sun slanting toward evening across his shoulders, he was preoccupied by other questions. The Giants had brought him this far; but they had not been persuaded to give him the help he needed. And he had promised them the tale of the Unhomed. He could not imagine ever having enough courage to tell it.
Yet he had to say something. Sunder and Hollian had moved away into the dark, seeking a private relief. Covenant understood. After all their other losses, they now had before them a world for which they were not equipped-a world without the Sunbane that made them valuable to their companions. But the Giants sat expectantly around the flames, waiting to hear him argue for their aid. Something he must say. Yet it was not in him.
At last, the First broke the silence. “Giantfriend.” She used the title she had given him gently. “You have known Giants-the people of your friend, Saltheart Foamfollower. We deeply desire to hear their story. We have seen in you that it is not a glad tale. But the Giants say that joy is in the ears that hear, not in the mouth that speaks. We will know how to hear you with joy, though the telling pains you.”
“Joy.” Covenant swallowed the breaking of his voice. Her words seemed to leech away what little fortitude he had left. He knew what the Giants would do when they heard his story. “No. Not yet. I'm not ready.”
From his position behind Covenant, Brinn said, “That tale is known among the old tellers of the
But Covenant knew the story too well. The fate of the Bloodguard and their Vow was inextricably bound up with the doom of the Seareach Giants. In his
“No,” Covenant almost moaned. He faced Brinn, gave the only answer he had. You don't have to do that. It's past. It wasn't their fault. “ 'Corruption wears many faces.'” He was quoting Bannor. “ 'Blame is a more enticing face than others, but it is none the less a mask for the Despiser.'” Do you know that Foul maimed those three Bloodguard? Made them into half-hands? “I'll tell it.” It's on my head. “When I'm ready.” A pang of augury told him that
Brinn studied him for a moment. Then the
“Giantfriend,” the First said slowly, 'such tales must be shared to be borne. An untold tale withers the heart. But I do not ask that you ease your heart. I ask for myself. Your tale concerns my kindred. And I am the First of the Search. You have spoken of the Sunbane which so appalls the Earth. My duty lies there. In the west. Seadreamer's Earth-Sight is clear. We must seek out this evil and oppose it. Yet you desire our aid. You ask for our proud
“Thomas Covenant, I ask for your tale because I must choose. Only in stories may the truth to guide me be found. Lacking the knowledge which moves your heart, I lack means to judge your path and your desires. You must speak.”
Must? In his emotional poverty, he wanted to cry out, You don't know what you're doing! But the Giants regarded him with eyes which asked and probed. Honninscrave wore his resemblance to Foamfollower as if that oblique ancestry became him. Seadreamer's stare seemed rife with Earth-Sight. Empathy complicated Pitchwife's smile. Covenant groaned inwardly.
“These hills-” He gestured eastward, moving his half-hand like a man plucking the only words he could find. “They're the boundary of Seareach. Where the Giants I knew used to live. They had a city on the Sea.
The First did not reply, did not blink.
He clenched his fist and strove to keep himself intact. “That's where they were murdered.”
Honninscrave's eyes flared. Pitchwife drew a hissing breath through his teeth. “In their homes?”
“Yes.”