Fatal Revenant

Whether she went to salvation or doom, she would not be alone; not as she had been in Roger’s company, and the croyel’s.

All right,” she replied when she meant, Thank you. Simple gratitude was beyond her: telling her tale had expended too much of her self-possession. “This is what I have in mind.”

The Mahdoubt had called Linden’s intentions fearsome and terrible. The Viles had spoken of the devastation of the Earth- Liand himself had said, You have it within you to perform horrors. But Linden did not pause to doubt herself.

“First,” she began, “I’ll have to end the siege somehow.” She could not leave Revelstone to the depredations of the Demondim. “But then I’m going to Andelain. If I can, I want to find Loric’s krill. It’s supposed to be able to channel any amount of power. It might let me use white gold and my Staff at the same time.”

Stave nodded as if to himself; but she did not stop.

“And I want to meet the Dead.” Before anyone could object, she continued grimly, “I know what Anele said. I heard him as well as you did. But I need answers, and there’s no one else that I can ask.”

She was done with Esmer: his attempts to aid her were too expensive. And she was sure that Sunder and Hollian were not the only shades who walked among the Andelainian Hills. Others of the Land’s lost heroes would be there as well, and might view her desires differently.

Mahrtiir and Stave exchanged a glance. Then the Manethrall faced Linden with a Ramen bow. “As you will, Ringthane. We will make such preparations as the Masters permit. And,” he added. “Cord Pahni will share with Liand any comprehension of your tale the Ramen possess. Some portion of his ignorance she will relieve.

“However,” he continued more harshly, “you are unaware of one event which has occurred in your absence.”

His manner claimed Linden’s full attention. Studying him, she saw predatory approval-although behind it lay a degree of apprehension.

“The siege,” she breathed.

Mahrtiir nodded. “It is gone.”

She stared. “How?” She could not believe that the Masters had defeated their enemies. The Demondim had too much power-

“Understand, Ringthane,” he replied, “that the battle to preserve Revelstone raged furiously, and for many days the eventual defeat of the Masters appeared certain. But then, ere sunset on the day before your return, a lone figure in the semblance of a man arrived on the plain. None beheld his approach. He merely appeared, just as you later appeared with the Mahdoubt. Alone, he advanced against the horde.”

Now Linden understood his desire to speak of the older woman earlier.

“The Demondim turned upon him in rage,” Mahrtiir went on, “and their power was extreme. Yet he defeated them to the last of their numbers. In the space of five score heartbeats, or perhaps ten, all of the Render’s Teeth ceased to exist.”

Linden made no effort to conceal her astonishment. Again she asked. “How?”

For a moment, no one responded. Then Liand cleared his throat. “Linden,” he said uncomfortably. “to our sight, it appeared that he devoured them.”

In that instant, the chill of the night air overtook the warmth of the fire. A shiver of hope or foreboding ran down Linden’s spine, and her limbs ached suddenly as though she had fallen back into the cruel winter where she had been betrayed.

Chapter Four: Old Conflicts

Linden tightened her grip on the Staff. -devoured them. All of those monsters: the entire horde. Hardly aware of what she did, she drew a subtle current of Earthpower from among the runes to counteract the cold touch of dread and desire. A man who could do that-Then she forced herself to look around at her friends.

It was plain that Liand understood what he had told her no better than she did.

Stave and the Ramen met her gaze. Anele had turned his head away; shifted sideways in his chair so that he could lean his cheek against the wall as if for comfort. His only reaction was a fractured muttering.

“Who is he?” Linden asked.

With a shake of his head, Mahrtiir deferred to Stave.

“None have inquired of him,” Stave replied stolidly. “The Masters permit no one to pass Revelstone’s gates.”

His response surprised Linden further. However, she held the obvious question in abeyance. But he’s still there’?”

“Aye, Chosen,” answered Stave. He remains at no great distance, warming his hands by a small fire which he does not replenish, yet which continues to burn. He appears to neither eat nor sleep. Rather it would seem that he merely waits.”

Linden caught her breath; held it briefly. She had seen a fire that did not need to be fed, and beside it a figure patiently motionless. Her mind raced as ideas reeled into new alignments. The Earth was vast, and inhabited by beings and powers which she had never encountered. The Land’s present as well as its past held mysteries. She could not be sure that she knew what a waiting figure beside a steady fire signified.

“Why haven’t the Masters talked to him? Why won’t they let anyone go out there?”

Stave lifted his shoulders in a Haruchai shrug. “They are uncertain. His puissance is manifest. They question the wisdom of accosting him. In addition”- he hesitated slightly- “there are other matters which I would prefer to name when more is known.”

Other matters, Linden thought. Like the Mahdoubt. Stave and the Masters knew something which they did not wish to reveal.

She wanted to pursue her instinctive assumptions immediately. She had slept for a long time. She had eaten well. And the unexpected doom of the Demondim distracted her from loss and rage. She was eager to act on her decisions.

But her companions had preparations to make. In addition, she had promised the Humbled that they would be told whatever they needed to know. She could not justify concealing the truth about Roger Covenant and the croyel from Stave’s kinsmen.

“All right,” she said while her thoughts ran in several directions at once. “We’ll let that go for now.” She had to resist an impulse to pace as she said, “We should start getting ready. Manethrall, I hope you’ll take care of that for me, you and your Cords. And Liand.”

When she felt the Stonedownor’s protest, she faced him squarely. “Pahni will explain some things while you’re finding supplies. Tomorrow I’ll answer your questions.” With her eyes, she added mutely, If they aren’t about me. “In the meantime, please take Anele with you. I need a chance to think.”

Then she said to Stave, “You should talk to the Humbled. Tell them”- she opened her free hand in a small gesture of surrender- “everything.” More sharply, she went on. “But when you’re done with that, I want to see you again. You can tell me how they take the news.”

That was only a portion of what she had in mind. However, she felt sure that Stave understood the rest.

She saw in the concentration of Mahrtiir’s mien that he understood as well, or guessed it. Yet he made no objection. He was a Raman, bred from childhood to unquestioning service. Without hesitation, he turned to the door, drawing Bhapa and Pahni in the wake of his authority.

For a moment, Liand continued to study Linden with a perplexed frown. But he was capable of dignity. And he had shown repeatedly that he could set his own desires and confusion aside whenever she asked that of him. Drawing himself up, he inclined his head in acquiescence. Then he approached Anele, urged the old man gently to his feet, and led him after the Ramen.

Stave bowed before he withdrew. Linden could only guess what sharing her story with Galt and Clyme might