Fatal Revenant

Lord Foul had whispered a word of counsel here and there, and awaited events, he had been speaking to Kastenessen. He may even have told Kastenessen how to shatter or evade his Durance.

Whether or not the Despiser had also advised Esmer, she could not begin to guess.

But Lord Foul had Jeremiah. Her son had constructed images of Revelstone and Mount Thunder in her living room. And the Masters had reason to think that Kastenessen now inhabited Mount Thunder.

Perhaps he was also responsible for Kevin’s Dirt-

Such speculations left her sick with frustration. They were too abstract: she needed a concrete explanation for what had happened to Covenant and Jeremiah. And she feared the storm of her own emotions when she stood before them again. If they still rejected her touch, she might not be able to think at all.

Still searching for some form of insight, she asked Stave what he remembered of the Elohim’s portentous visit to Mithil Stonedown. Surely he had heard or understood more than Liand was able to recall?

He replied with pronounced care, as though she had asked him to touch on subjects that would cause her pain.

“I can add little to that which the Ramen have revealed, or to the Stonedown’s memory of the event. I saw the Elohim for what he was, oblique and devious. Such names as merewives, Sandgorgons, and croyel were known to me, as they are to you, though they conveyed naught to the Stonedownors. Also the Haruchai have heard it said, as you have, that there is a shadow upon the heart of the Elohim.

“But of the skurj we knew nothing. The Masters do not grasp the purpose of the Elohim’s appearance, for they cannot comprehend his warning against the halfhand. Indeed, they honour those who have been titled Halfhands, both Berek Lord-Fatherer and ur-Lord Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever. The Humbled are a token of that honour, as they are of the fault which doomed the Bloodguard.”

A premature twilight dimmed the air as Linden and her companions strode among the low hills. She had been on the plateau longer than she realised. The sun was not yet setting; but the peaks of the Westron Mountains reached high, and the dark clouds behind them piled higher still. She seemed to cross into shadow as Stave answered her.

“Yet, Chosen-” The Haruchai hesitated, apparently uncertain that he should continue. However, he had declared his loyalty to her. His tone remained dispassionate as he said, “I have been cast out from the Masters, but they cannot silence their thoughts. They merely refuse to heed me if I do not speak aloud. For that reason, I know that they are disturbed by the knowledge that your son also is a halfhand.”

Linden flinched involuntarily; but she did not interrupt.

In the time of the new Lords,” Stave continued, the Unbeliever was considered by some the reincarnation of Berek Heartthew, for their legends said that Berek would one day return. It may be that the Elohim fear the Unbeliever because his presence, the rebirth of High Lord Berek’s potent spirit, will dim their own import in the Earth. Or it may be that the Elohim seek to warn the Land against your son, seeing in him a peril which is hidden from us.”

No, stop, Linden protested inwardly. I can’t think-Without noticing what she did, she dragged her fingers roughly through the tangles of her hair: she needed that smaller hurt to contain her larger shock. What, you suspect that my son is a threat to the Land? Now what am I supposed to do? Jeremiah had recovered his mind. He had recovered his mind. How could she bear to believe that he had become dangerous? That the Elohim saw danger in him?

Or in Covenant-?

Where had Jeremiah’s mind been while she had tried and failed for years to reach it?

After a moment, Mahrtiir said gruffly, “This gains nothing, Stave. That we have cause for concern is plain enough. But the youth is no son of ours. We cannot gaze upon him as the Ringthane must. And the burden of determination is not ours, for we hold neither white gold nor the Staff of Law. She will speak with the Unbeliever and her son, and her wisdom and valour will guide her. The speculations of the Masters-mere imaginings, for the truth remains shrouded-serve only to tarnish her clarity.”

The Manethrall’s words offered Linden a way to calm her turmoil. He was right: she could not guess the truth of Jeremiah’s condition-or of Covenant’s. She needed to fight her impulse to jump to conclusions.

“She will learn what she can,” Mahrtiir said, “and do what she must. This the Ramen understand, who have spent their lives in the service of the Ranyhyn. But the Masters have lost such wisdom, for they conceive themselves equal to that which they serve. Among your people, you alone recognise their fault”- the Manethrall grinned sharply- “humbling my pride as you do so, for the Ramen also are not without fault. We have permitted ourselves to forget that at one time, when the Bloodguard had ended their service to the Lords, some few of them chose instead to serve the Ranyhyn among the Ramen. Foolishly we have nurtured our disdain toward the sleepless ones across the centuries, and so we have proffered distrust where honour has been earned.

“Together we must now be wary that we do not teach the Ringthane to share our ancient taints. We may be certain that she will serve the Land and her own loves. No other knowledge is required of us.”

Although her heart trembled, Linden pushed aside the warning of the Elohim. She could not afford to be confused by fears that had no name.

She and her companions were nearing the wide passage that angled down into Lord’s Keep. There she stopped so that she would not be overheard by the Masters who presumably guarded the passage. Resting her free hand on Stave’s shoulder, she turned to meet the Manethrall’s whetted gaze.

“Thank you,” she said gravely. “That helps.” Then she faced Stave. “And thank you. I need to know anything that you can tell me. Even if it makes me crazy.” She grimaced ruefully. “But Mahrtiir is right. I can’t think about everything right now. We have too many problems. I need to take them as they come.

“We’re running out of time. I know that. Those Demondim aren’t going to wait much longer.” And when they resumed their siege, they would unfurl the full virulence of the IIIearth Stone from its source in the deep past. “But I can’t worry about them yet.” She knew what she had to do. “First I need to talk to Covenant and Jeremiah.”

The gloom on the upland continued to darken as storm clouds hid the sun.

“I hope that you’ll forgive me,” she told Stave. “There might be things that I can’t talk about in front of you.” Not until she knew more about the Unbeliever and her son-and about where she stood with them. “If you can still hear the Masters’ thoughts, I have to assume that they can hear yours. And if they even half believe that Jeremiah is a threat- ” She swallowed a lump of distress. “I can’t take the chance that they’ll get in my way.”

Stave faced her stolidly. “No forgiveness is needful. I do not question you. The Masters are indeed able to hear my thoughts-should they deign to do so. Speak to me of nothing which may foster their opposition.”

Mutely Mahrtiir gave the former Master a deep Ramen bow. And Linden squeezed his shoulder. She wanted to hug him-to acknowledge his understanding as well as his losses-but she did not trust herself. Her emotions gathered like the coming storm. If she could not emulate his stoic detachment when she confronted Covenant and her son-and if they still refused her touch-she would be routed like a scatter of dry leaves.

Millennia ago, Covenant had promised that he would never use power again. But he was using power now: he was folding time. He might ask for his ring. Why else had he come so unexpectedly? He might demand-

And somehow Jeremiah had obtained his own magic.

If either of them accepted Linden’s embrace now, she would certainly lose control of herself. And she feared the costs of her vulnerability.

At the end of the long tunnel down into the ramified convolutions of Revelstone, Linden, Stave, and Mahrtiir were met by Galt of the Humbled. He greeted them with a small inclination of his head, hardly a nod, and announced that he would guide the Chosen to speak with ur-Lord Thomas Covenant.

Linden paused to address Mahrtiir and Stave again. “I have to do this alone.” Her voice was tight with trepidation. “But I hope that you’ll stay nearby, Stave.

“Mahrtiir, it might be a good idea to take Liand and the others to Glimmermere. Drink the water. Go swimming. Anele won’t, but the rest of you will be better off.” Unnecessarily she added, “There’s a storm coming, but it doesn’t feel like the kind of weather that can hurt you.”

When the Manethrall had bowed to her and walked away, she returned her attention to Galt.

“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s do this. I’m tired of waiting.”