The Wounded Land

with his rukh still in his hands-we would know of it. Every rukh answers to the master-rukh, unless it falls into ignorant hands. He would not choose to release his rukh. Therefore he has been overcome and bereft. Perhaps then he was slain. We cannot know!”

“Halfhand!” Akkasri clutched at Covenant's arm, urging Mm toward the door.

He let her draw him out of the sacred enclosure. He was dizzy with heat and blind wild hope. Maybe the Reader spoke the truth; maybe his friends had overpowered their captor; maybe they were safe! While the na- Mhoram-cro closed the door, he leaned against the outer wall and panted at the blessedly cool air.

Vain stood near him, as blank and attentive as ever.

Studying Covenant, Akkasri asked, “Shall we return to your chamber? Do you wish to rest?”

He shook his head. He did not want to expose that much of his hope. With an effort, he righted his reeling thoughts. “I'm fine.” His pulse contradicted him; but he trusted she could not perceive such things. “Just explain it. I've seen the master-rukh. Now tell me how it works. How you fight the Sunbane.”

“By drawing its power from it,” she answered simply. 'If more water is taken from a lake than its springs provide, the lake will be emptied. Thus we resist the Sunbane.

“When the Mhoram first created the Banefire, it was a small thing, and accomplished little. But the Clave has increased it generation after generation, striving for the day when sufficient power would be consumed to halt the advance of the Sunbane.”

Covenant fumbled mentally, then asked, “What do you do with all this power? It's got to go somewhere.”

“Indeed. We have much use for power, to strengthen the Clave and continue our work. As you have learned, much is drawn by the Riders, so that they may ride and labour in ways no lone man or woman could achieve without a ruinous expenditure of blood. With other power are the Coursers wrought, so that the Sunbane will have no mastery over them. And more is consumed by the living of Revelstone. Crops are grown on the upland plateau — kine and goals nourished-looms and forges driven. In earlier generations, the Clave was hampered by need and paucity. But now we flourish, Halfhand. Unless some grave disaster falls upon us,” Akkasri said in a pointed tone, “we will not fail,”

“And you do it all by killing people,” he rasped. “Where do you get that much blood?”

She turned her head away in distaste for his question. “Doubtless you possess that knowledge,” she said stiffly. “If you desire further enlightenment, consult the na-Mhoram.”

“I will,” he promised. The state of the sacred enclosure reminded him that the Clave saw as evil a whole host of things which he knew to be good; and actions which they called good made his guts heave. “In the meantime, tell me what the na-Mhoram”- to irritate her, he used the title sardonically — “has in mind for me. He wants my help. What does he want me to do?”

This was obviously a question for which she had come prepared. Without hesitation, she said, “He desires to make of you a Reader.”

A Reader, he muttered to himself. Terrific.

“For several reasons,” she went on evenly. 'The distinction between Reading and soothreading is narrow, but severe. Perhaps with your white ring the gap may be bridged, giving the Clave knowledge to guide its future. Also with your power, perhaps still more of the Sunbane may be consumed. Perhaps you may exert a mastery over the region around Revelstone, freeing it from the Sunbane. This is our hope. As you wielded more power, the Sunbane would grow weaker, permitting the expansion of your mastery, spreading safety farther out into the Land. Thus the work of generations might be compressed into one lifetime.

“It is a brave vision, Halfhand, worthy of any man or woman. A great saving of life and Land. For that reason Gibbon na-Mhoram rescinded the command of your death.”

But he was not persuaded. He only listened to her with half his mind. While she spoke, he became aware of an alteration in Vain. The Demondim-spawn no longer stood completely still. His head shifted from side to side, as if he heard a distant sound and sought to locate its source. His black orbs were focused. When Akkasri said, “Will you answer, Halfhand?” Covenant ignored her. He felt suddenly sure that Vain was about to do something. An obscure excitement pulled him away from the wall, poised him for whatever might happen.

Abruptly, Vain started away along the curving hall.

“Your companion!” the na-Mhoram-cro barked in surprise and agitation. “Where does he go?”

“Let's find out.” At once, Covenant strode after Vain.

The Demondim-spawn moved like a man with an impeccable knowledge of Revelstone. Paying no heed to Covenant and Akkasri, or to the people he passed, he traversed corridors and stairways, disused meeting halls and refectories; and at every opportunity he descended, working his way toward the roots of the Keep.

Akkasri's agitation increased at every descent. But, like Vain, Covenant had no attention to spare for her. Searching his memory, he tried to guess Vain's goal. He could not. Before long, Vain led him into passages he had never seen before. Torches became infrequent. At times, he could barely distinguish the black Demondim-spawn from the dimness.

Then, without warning, Vain arrived in a cul-de-sac lit only by light reflecting from some distance behind him. As Covenant and Akkasri caught up with him, he was staring at the end of the corridor as if the thing he desired were hidden beyond it.

“What is it?” Covenant did not expect Vain to reply; he spoke only to relieve his own tension. “What are you after?”

“Halfhand,” snapped the na-Mhoram-cro, “he is your companion.” She seemed afraid, unprepared for Vain's action. “You must control him. He must stop here.”

“Why?” Covenant drawled, trying to vex her into a lapse of caution, a revelation. “What's so special about this place?”

Her voice jumped. “It is forbidden!”

Vain faced the blind stone as if he were thinking. Then he stepped forward and touched the wall. For a long moment, his hands probed the surface.

His movements struck a chord in Covenant's memory. There was something familiar about what Vain was doing.

Familiar?

The next instant, Vain reached up to a spot on the wall above his head. Immediately, lines of red tracery appeared in the stone. They spread as if he had ignited an intaglio: in moments, red limned a wide doorway.

The door swung open, revealing a torch-lit passage.

Yes! Covenant shouted to himself. When he and Foamfollower had tried to enter Foul's Creche, the Giant had found and opened a similar door just as Vain had found and opened this one.

But what was that kind of door doing in Revelstone? Neither the Giants nor the Lords had ever used such entrances.

In a sudden rush of trepidation, he saw Akkasri's movement a moment too late to stop her. Swift with urgency, she snatched a rukh from under her robe and decanted blood onto her hands. Now fire sprang from the triangle; she began shouting words he could not understand.

Vain had already disappeared into the passage. Before the door could close itself again, Covenant sprinted after the Demondim-spawn.

This hall doubled back parallel to the one he had just left. It was well-lit. He could see that this place had not been part of the original Giant-work. Walls, floor, ceiling, all were too roughly formed. The Giants had never delved stone so carelessly. Leaping intuitively ahead of himself, he guessed that this tunnel had not been cut until after the passing of the Council, It had been made by the Clave for their own secret purposes.

Beyond him, a side corridor branched off to the left. Vain took this turning. Covenant followed rapidly.

In ten strides, the Demondim-spawn reached a massive iron door. It had been sealed with heavy bolts sunk deep into the stone, as if the Clave intended it to remain shut forever.

A faint pearly light marked the cracks around the metal.

Vain did not hesitate. He went to the door, found a place to wedge his fingers into the cracks. His back and shoulders tensed. Pressure squeezed new fluid from his bums.

Covenant heard running behind him, but did not turn away. His amazement tied him to Vain.

With a prodigious burst of strength, Vain tore the door from its moorings. Ringing like an anvil, it fell to the