Fatal Revenant

them bewildered, unable to convey what they have witnessed, or what they have lost. They cannot name the cause of their sadness and ire.”

Again the healed, the Heers, and those who had carried hurtloam nodded, grateful to hear their innominate grief described.

Now Liand raised his voice. Still he did not shout; but he spoke in bright tones that sent a shiver through Linden’s heart. Pahni’s eyes shone, and Mahrtiir heard the Stonedownor with his chin raised as though Liand had made him proud.

“Nevertheless I say to you that what they have tasted and lost is your birthright. It is the essential spirit of the Land, inherent to all that lives, and you have been made blind to it. For many generations, you have been deprived of the deepest truth of who and what and where you are.

“It is my wish to grant unto you, all of you, the gift that I have been given. I wish to share my vision of your birthright.”

There the Humbled or Vernigil might have interrupted him. But none of them betrayed any reaction. Perhaps their silence acknowledged an irreducible truth: whether Linden succeeded or failed, nothing in the Land would remain unchanged.

She had accomplished that much, at least, Linden thought grimly. Liand could speak without fear. For the present, at least, the service of the Masters had ceased to be a general prohibition. Now it was focused almost exclusively on her.

You hold great powers. Yet if we determine that we must wrest them from you, do you truly doubt that we will prevail?

If the day ever came when the Humbled decided to oppose her, every Master in the Land would become her enemy.

“But in all sooth,” the Stonedownor continued, “it is not a gentle gift, and you will not bless me for it. In itself, it is wondrous beyond telling. While it remains to you, you will be exalted. But it will be fleeting. And when it drains away, you will be left in sorrow. Nor will you be able to regain any portion of what you have lost.

“Why, then, do I offer this increase of woe? Your destination is Revelstone, the seat and habitation of the Masters. There you will find some small safety in a world which has become perilous beyond your knowledge. And there, if you desire it, you may reclaim my gift. Above Revelstone lies a plateau, and the plateau holds Glimmermere, a lake munificent to restore your birthright. It is a theriac for the bane which has made both you and the Land appear to be less than you are.

“Yet Revelstone is distant,” he said as if he were arguing against himself, “and your path will be arduous. You will not soon know my gift again.

“It is here.” Reaching into the pouch at his waist, Liand drew out the orcrest and held it high. In his grasp, it shone like a beacon, as white as refined daylight, and as clear as the purest gem. “If you desire to know the savour and bereavement of your birthright, approach me. If you do not, withdraw.

“Yet hear me nonetheless. Your losses have been cruel. They may worsen in your journey, or within Revelstone. Still I believe that you will not regret my gift. To know your birthright is precious, even when that birthright is denied. And if Linden Avery the Chosen does not fail in her quest, your birthright will one day be restored to all the folk of the Land.”

Linden was not surprised when most of the Woodhelvennin surged forward, crowding into the brightness around Rhohm and Liand as though the Sunstone’s radiance offered meaning to their lives. She would have done the same in their place, if Liand’s generosity could have eased her irreconciled heart.

With tears in her eyes, Pahni murmured. “For this he has become my love.”

Nodding, Mahrtiir announced, “He reveals a greater heritage than he comprehends. In the tales of the Ramen, the ancient Lords had such stature, humble in their glory, and open-hearted to every need. Yet he is more. He has touched the lore of the rhadhamaerl. After uncounted generations of diminishment, he is the first true Stonedownor among his kind.”

“Aye,” assented Bhapa gruffly. “I am Ramen, and do not lightly avow that he has surpassed me.”

But Stave said without inflection. That is his peril. Corruption delights in the ruin of such innocence.”

Linden turned away. She could feel health-sense and excitement effloresce among the Woodhelvennin as the hindering brume of Kevin’s Dirt was swept aside by Earthpower and Liand’s courage. Like Pahni and the Manethrall, she was proud of him. Like Stave, she feared for him. But she was also ashamed.

If Linden Avery the Chosen does not fail in her quest-

Her mere presence among the villagers was a promise which she did not know how to keep.

Chapter Eight: Salva Gildenbourne

I am able to convey you to your son.

The Harrow’s parting words were a knell in Linden’s heart. While the glory of Liand’s orcrest washed over the villagers, she rode away from the crowd and the shattered remnants of First Woodhelven; from her friends. Doubt-ridden, and haunted by her dreams, she wanted to be alone with Hyn.

She did not understand how the Ramen seemed to know what the Ranyhyn wanted or intended: she could not even guess how the Ramen knew the names of the great horses. Nevertheless a form of communion existed between the Ramen and the Ranyhyn. She had tasted that bond herself during the horserite which she had shared with Hyn, Hynyn, and Stave. At need, Hyn never failed to grasp what Linden desired of her-and to obey.

Impelled by fears and yearning, Linden guided the mare a short distance away from her companions. There, bending low over Hyn’s neck and whispering so that she would not be overheard, she asked the Ranyhyn to take her to Jeremiah.

She felt the mare’s muscles quiver in willingness or trepidation. Hyn shifted her hooves restively, tossed her head, then shook it from side it side. She stood where she was.

Trying to be clear, Linden took Jeremiah’s toy from her pocket and clenched it in her fist. Then she closed her eyes and visualised her son, not as she had known and loved him in their former life together, but as she had last seen him under Melenkurion Skyweir, with the croyel clinging savagely to his back; debased by the creature’s bitter theurgy. She formed his image in precise detail and offered it to Hyn, silently pleading with the Ranyhyn.

Still the mare did not move.

Then Mahrtiir came to Linden’s side, and to Hyn’s, drawn by his sensitivity to Linden, or by his instinctive rapport with the Ranyhyn. Murmuring, he gentled the mare until she no longer trembled.

“Do not misunderstand, Ringthane,” he urged Linden gruffly. “Hyn is valorous in all things. She would bear you into any of the Seven Hells, as she has into the horror of caesures. But she does not know where your son may be found. Mayhap she is able to discern the nature of his hiding place or prison, but she cannot determine its location. Therefore she shies from your desire.

“The son of the former Ringthane is present in this time. For that reason, I deem that your son is likewise present. As you have described them, the powers of both the halfhand and the croyel were required to elude the Law of Time. Therefore the halfhand’s evil assures us that your son has not been secreted in some other age. He does not lie beyond your reach. But Hyn cannot pierce his concealment.”

Linden sighed. “I didn’t really expect it to work.” If she could have found her son simply by asking the Ranyhyn to aid her, the Harrow would have no leverage with her-and Roger and Esmer would have no reason to fear that she might strike a bargain with the Insequent. “I just had to try.”

The Manethrall seemed to study her through his bandage. “Indeed, Ringthane. Who would comprehend, if I do not? Against the Cavewights, I did not expect to retain my life. Yet I could not decline to give battle. It is ever thus. Attempts must be made, even when there can be no hope. The alternative is despair. And betimes some wonder is wrought to redeem us. Expecting death, I have sacrificed only my sight.

“Therein lay Kevin Landwaster’s error-aye, and great Kelenbhrabanal’s also. When all hope was gone, they heeded the counsels of despair. Had they continued to strive, defying their doom, some