Fatal Revenant

Covenant squinted vaguely at the rising flames. “What do you want to know?”

Linden did not hesitate. “It was Kastenessen who convinced the Demondim to let my friends and me reach Revelstone. You said that you and Jeremiah were able to get here because you tricked them.” I put a crimp in their reality. But how can I be sure that that wasn’t Kastenessen’s doing too?”

Earlier she had believed that Covenant and Jeremiah were being herded rather than pursued.

She expected a flare of anger; but Covenant only peered into his flagon as though its contents meant more to him than her implied accusation. “Because he didn’t know we were coming. He couldn’t. I didn’t start on all this-what we’re doing now-until I knew you were safe.

“When he realised we were on our way here-” Covenant offered her a slack smile. “That made him mad as hell. He was beside himself.” Turning his head, he winked at Jeremiah. “Practically in two places at once.” When Jeremiah grinned, Covenant returned his attention to his flagon. “But you have to remember-He can’t communicate with those damn monsters. The only way he can talk to them is through the old man.” Covenant shrugged. “Since yesterday, that poor lunatic hasn’t been available.”

Abruptly Linden sagged. Hardly aware of what she did, she sank into a chair. Relief left her weak. Deep in her heart, she had been so afraid-Now Covenant had given her a reason to believe in him.

But he was not done. While she tried to gather herself, he said, You might ask why I didn’t make us just appear here.” He sounded dull with drink, sleepy, almost bored. “Riding in ahead of the Demondim was pretty risky. But I wanted a chance to mess with their reality. They can use the damn IIIearth Stone whenever they want. I had to make sure they didn’t attack too soon.

“And I was afraid of you.” He drank again, unsteadily. A little springwine sloshed down his cheeks. “If we took you by surprise-if you didn’t see us coming-you might do something to erase us. I couldn’t take that chance.” He nodded toward Jeremiah. “This isn’t something I could do twice. Kastenessen knows about us now. Hellfire, Linden, Foul himself knows. Neither of them would have any trouble stopping us. Not when I’m stretched this thin.”

By degrees, Linden’s weakness ebbed. At last, something made sense to her. She could follow Covenant’s explanation. Only the imprecise pitch of his voice inhibited her from believing him completely.

Because of his strangeness, she found an unforeseen comfort in the knowledge that he had reason to fear her.

When he was done, she nodded. “All right. I get that. But I had to ask. I’m sure you understand.”

For a moment, Jeremiah turned his grin on her. But Covenant did not reply. Instead he replenished his flagon.

With an effort, she mustered a different question. She had so many-If she did not keep him talking, he might drink himself to sleep.

“So what’s it like?” she asked quietly. “Being part of the Arch of Time?”

“I’m sorry, Linden.” He raised his flagon as if he were driving himself toward unconsciousness. “It’s like Jeremiah’s pain. There aren’t any words for it. It’s too vast, and I’m everywhere at once.

“I feel like I know the One Forest and the Worm of the World’s End and even,” he drawled, “poor ol’ Lord Foul better than I know myself. If you asked me the names of all the Sandgorgons-or what Berek had for breakfast the day he turned against his King-I could probably tell you. If I didn’t have to work so hard just to stay where I am. And,” he concluded, “if I actually cared about things like that.”

Studying him closely-the increasing looseness of his cheeks, the deepening glaze in his eyes, the mounting slur of his speech-Linden said, “Then I’ll try to be more specific. I don’t understand why the caesures haven’t already destroyed everything.

“Joan’s using wild magic. And she’s out of her mind, you know that. God, Covenant, it seems to me that just one Fall ought to be enough to undo the whole world. But she’s made dozens of them by now. Or hundreds.” Ever since Linden had restored her wedding band. “How can the Arch survive that? How can you? Why hasn’t everybody and everything that’s ever existed already been sucked away?”

Surely Anele, a handful of ur-viles, and Kevin’s Watch were not the only victims of Joan’s agony?

Covenant lifted his unmaimed hand and peered at it; extended his fingers as though he meant to enumerate a list of reasons. But then he appeared to forget what he was doing, or to lose interest in it. Returning his hand to his lap and the handle of his flagon, he answered dully, “Because the Law of Time is still fighting to protect itself. Because I’m still fighting to protect it. And because caesures have limits. They wouldn’t be so easy to make if the Laws of Death and Life hadn’t been damaged. Before that, everything was intact. So there’s a kind of barrier in the Land’s past. It restricts how far back the caesures tend to go.

“Joan’s too far gone to know what she’s doing. She can’t sustain anything. So most of her caesures don’t last very long. If they aren’t kept going by some other power-like the Demondim-they fade pretty quickly. And they don’t usually reach as far back as the Sunbane. That gives the Law of Time a chance to reassert itself. It gives me room to work.”

Covenant’s air of drowsiness grew as he continued, “Plus her caesures are localised. They only cover a certain amount of ground, and they move around. She’s too crazy to make them do anything else. Wherever they are at a particular moment, every bit of time in that precise spot happens at once. For the last three millennia, anyway. But since they’re moving, they give those bits of time back as fast as they pick up new ones.”

Abruptly his head dropped, and Linden feared for a moment that he had fallen asleep. But then he seemed to rally. His head jerked up. He widened his eyes to the firelight; blinked them several times; stared at her owlishly.

“But the real reason,” he continued, “is what the Lords called ‘the necessity of freedom.”‘ For some reason, he sounded bitter. “Wild magic is only as powerful as the will, the determination, of the person it belongs to. The rightful white gold wielder.

“In the wrong hands, it’s still pretty strong. Which is why you can create Falls with it”- the statement was a sneer- “and why Foul was able to kill me. But it doesn’t really come alive until the person it belongs to chooses to use it. Foul might not even have been able to kill me if I hadn’t given him my ring voluntarily. And I did not choose to destroy the Arch.” Covenant’s tone suggested that now he wondered why he had bothered to choose at all. “Since he wasn’t the rightful wielder, the power he unleashed only made me stronger.

“Well,” he snorted, “Joan is the rightful wielder of her ring. But she isn’t choosing anything. All she’s really trying to do is scream. Turiya has her. He feeds her pain. But that only aggravates her craziness. He can’t make her choose because she’s already lost. Oh, he could force her to hand her ring to someone else. But it wouldn’t be her choice. And the ring wouldn’t belong to whoever got it.”

Covenant drank again, and his manner resumed its drift toward somnolence. For what Foul really wants, Joan and her ring are pretty much useless. They’re just a gambit. A ploy. The danger is real enough, but it won’t set him free. Or help him accomplish any of his other goals. He’s counting on you for that. It’s all about manipulating you so you’ll serve him.”

The idea made Linden wince. His other goals-Through Anele, the Despiser had suggested that he did not merely wish to escape the Arch of Time. There is more, he had said, but of my deeper purpose I will not speak.

“Serve him how?” Fear which she could not suppress undermined her voice.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Covenant said through a yawn. “He hides from me in all kinds of ways. I can’t tell where he’s keeping Jeremiah, or where he is himself, or what he thinks you’re going to do. All I know for sure is, the danger’s real. And I can stop it.”

In spite of her concern, Linden recognised her cue: she was supposed to ask him how. He had blamed her for everything that had happened since she had formed her Staff. Now he would offer to ease her guilt and responsibility.

She assumed that he wanted his ring. How else could he possibly intervene in the Despiser’s designs? Surely he needed his instrument of power? It belonged to him.

Like Joan, he could not exert wild magic without his ring.

With it a master may form perfect works and fear nothing.