The Wounded Land

She followed, anxious that he might be suffering from a relapse of delirium. But when he saw her, he recognized her with a nod, and drew her away to a place where they could at least whisper without disturbing their companions. The way he carried his arm showed that it was tender but utile. His expression was obscure in the vague light; but his voice sounded lucid.

“Who's the woman?”

She stood close to him, peered into the shadow of his countenance. “You don't remember?”

“I remember bees.” He gave a quick shudder. “That Raver. Nothing else.”

Her efforts to preserve his life had left her vulnerable to him. She had shared his extremity; and now he seemed to have a claim on her which she would never be able to refuse. Even her heartbeat belonged to him, “You had a relapse,”

“A relapse-?” He tried to flex his sore arm.

“You were stung, and went into shock. It was like another snakebite in the same place, only worse. I thought-” She touched his shoulder involuntarily. “I thought you weren't going to make it.”

“When was that?”

“A day and a half ago.”

“How did-?” he began, then changed his mind. “Then what?”

“Sunder and I couldn't do anything for you. We just went on.” She started to speak rapidly. “That night, we came to another Stonedown.” She told him the story as if she were in a hurry to reach the end of it. But when she tried to describe the power of his ring, he stopped her. “That's impossible,” he whispered.

“You don't remember at all?”

“No. But I tell you it's impossible. I've always-always had to have some kind of trigger. The proximity of some other power. Like the orcrest. It never happens by itself. Never.”

“Maybe it was the Rider.”

“Yes.” He grasped the suggestion gratefully. “That must be it. That sceptre-his rukh” He repeated the name she had told him as if he needed reassurance.

She nodded, then resumed her narration.

When she was done, he spoke his thoughts hesitantly. “You say I was delirious. I must have been-I don't remember any of it. Then this Rider tried to attack. All of a sudden, I had power.” His tone conveyed the importance of the question. “What set me off? I shouldn't have been able to defend myself, if I was that sick. Did you get hurt? Did Sunder-?”

“No.” Suddenly, the darkness between them was full of significance. She had risked herself extravagantly to keep him alive-and for what? In his power and delirium he had believed nothing about her except that she had abandoned him. And even now he did not know what he had cost her. No. She could hardly muffle her bitterness as she replied, “We're all right. It wasn't that.”

Softly, he asked, “Then what was it?”

“I made you think Joan was in danger.” He flinched; but she went on, struck at him with words. “It was the only thing I could find. You weren't going to save yourself-weren't going to save me. You kept accusing me of deserting you. By God,” she grated, “I've stood by you since the first time I saw Joan. No matter how crazy you are, I've stood by you. You'd be dead now if it weren't for me. But you kept accusing me, and I couldn't reach you. The only name that meant anything to you was Joan.”

She hurt him. His right hand made a gesture toward her, winced away. In the darkness, he seemed to have no eyes; his sockets gaped at her as if he had been blinded. She expected him to protest that he had often tried to help her, often striven to give her what support he could. But he stood there as he had stood when she had first confronted him on Haven Farm, upright under the weight of impossible burdens. When he spoke, his voice was edged with rage and exquisite grief.

'She was my wife. She divorced me because I had leprosy. Of all the things that happened to me, that was the worst. God knows I've committed crimes. I've raped-killed- betrayed-But those were things I did, and I did everything I could to make restitution. She treated me as if I were a crime. Just being who I was, just suffering from a physical affliction I couldn't have prevented or cured anymore than I could have prevented or cured ray own mortality, I terrified her. That was the worst. Because I believed it. I felt that way about leprosy myself.

“It gave her a claim on me, I spent eleven years living with it — I couldn't bear being the cause. I sold my soul to pay that debt, and it doesn't make any difference.” The muscles of his face contorted at the memory. “I'm a leper. I'm never going to stop being a leper. I'm never going to be able to quit her claim on me. It goes deeper than any choice.” His words were the colour of blood.

“But, Linden,” he went on; and his direct appeal stung her heart. “She's my ex-wife.” In spite of his efforts to control it, his voice carried fatality like a lament. “If the past is any indication, I'm never going to see her again.”

She clung to him with her eyes. Uncertainties thronged in her. Why would he not see Joan again? How had he sold himself? How much had he withheld? But in her vulnerability one question mattered more than all the others. As steadily, noncommittally, as she could, she asked, “Do you want to see her again?”

To her tense ears, the simplicity of his reply bore the weight of a declaration. “No. I don't particularly like being a leper.”

She turned away so that he would not see the tears in her eyes. She did not want to be so exposed to him. She was in danger of losing herself. And yet her relief was as poignant as love. Over her shoulder, she said flatly, “Get some rest. You need it.” Then she went back to where Sunder and Hollian lay, stretched out on the rock, and spent a long time shivering as if she were caught in a winter of unshielded loneliness.

The sun had already risen, red and glowering, when she awoke. A pile of aliantha near Sunder's knapsack showed that the Stonedownors had foraged successfully for food. Covenant and the eh- Brand stood together, making each other's acquaintance. Sunder sat nearby as if he were grinding his teeth.

Linden climbed to her feet. Her body felt abused by the hardness of her bed, but she ignored it. Averting her eyes from Covenant as if in shame, she went to the river to wash her face.

When she returned, Sunder divided the treasure-berries. The travellers ate in silence: aliantha was a food which imposed stillness. Yet Linden could not deafen herself to the ambience of her companions. Covenant was as rigid as he had ever been on Haven Farm. Hollian's delicate features wore perplexity as if it were a kind of fear. And the darkness of the Graveller's mood had not lifted-resentment directed at the eh-Brand, or at himself.

They made Linden feel lost. She was responsible for their various discomforts-and inadequate to do anything about it. In sustaining Covenant, she had opened doors which she now could not close, though she swore she would close them. Muttering sourly to herself, she finished her aliantha, scattered the seeds beyond the rock, then went severely through the motions of preparing to enter the River.

But Hollian could not bear her own trouble in silence. After a moment, she addressed the Unbeliever. “You say that I am to name you Covenant-though it is a name of ill omen, and sits unquietly in my mouth. Very well. Covenant. Have you considered where you go? The Graveller and Linden Avery say that you are destined for Revelstone. My heart shrinks from the thought-but if such is your goal, I will not gainsay it. Yet Revelstone lies there.” She pointed northwestward. “Eleven score leagues distant. The Mithil no longer shares your way.”

“That is known to us, eh-Brand,” Sunder muttered.

She ignored him. “It may be that we can journey afoot, with the aid of voure.” She hesitated, recognizing the difficulty of what she proposed. “And great good fortune.” Her eyes did not leave Covenant's face.

“Maybe.” His tone betrayed that he had already made his decision. “But I don't want to take the chance of getting stung again. We'll stay on the River for another day or two, anyway.”

“Covenant.” Hollian's gaze was poignant. “Do you know what lies that way?”

“Yes.” He met her squarely. “Andelain.”

Andelain? The concealed intensity with which he said that name brought Linden to alertness.

“Do you-” Hollian wrestled against her apprehension. “Do you choose to approach Andelain?”

“Yes.” Covenant's resolution was complete. But he studied the eh-Brand closely, as if her concern disturbed him. “I want to see it. Before I go to Revelstone.”