long?” His voice sounded small and lorn to himself.
“I was driven from my way,” she said through her teeth, “north into the marge of the Sarangrave.”
“Dear God,” Troy breathed weakly. He felt the way Rue looked at him, felt all the eyes in the Close on him. But he could not think; his brain was inert. Lord Foul was only a three-day march from Morinmoss.
The Manethrall snorted disdainfully, and turned away toward the High Lord. “Is this the man who leads your warriors?” she asked sourly.
“Please pardon him,” Elena replied. “He is young in the Land, and in some matters does not see clearly. But he has been chosen by the Ranyhyn. In time he will show his true value.”
Rue shrugged. “Do you have other questions?” she said wearily. “I would end this.”
“You have told us much. We have no more doubt of Lord Foul's movements, and can guess his speed. Only one question remains. It concerns the composition of Fangthane's army. What manner of beings comprise it?”
Bitterness stiffened Rue's stance, and she said harshly, “I have spoken of the wind, and the evil in the air which felled my Cords. In the army I saw ur-viles, Cavewights, a mighty host of
“That is the work of the Illearth Stone,” the High Lord murmured.
But Manethrall Rue was not done. “One other thing I saw. I could not be mistaken, for it marched near the forefront, commanding the movements of the horde. It controlled the creatures with a baleful green light, and called itself Fleshharrower. It was a Giant.”
For an instant, a silence like a thunderclap broke over the Close. It snatched Troy's attention erect, lit a fire of dread in his chest. The Giants! Had Lord Foul conquered them? Already?
Then First Mark Morin came to his feet and said in a voice flat with certainty, “Impossible. Rockbrother is another name for fealty and faith. Do you rave?”
At once, the chamber clamoured in protest against the very idea that a Giant could join the Despiser. The thought was too shocking to be admitted; it cast fundamental beliefs into hysteria. The Hafts burst out lividly, and several of them shouted through the general uproar that Rue was lying. Two Lorewardens took up Morin's question and made it an accusation: Rue was in the grip of a Raver. Confusion overcame even the Lords. Trevor and Loerya paled with fear; Verement barked at Mhoram; Elena and Callindrill were staggered; and Amatin burst into tears.
The noise aggravated swiftly in the clear acoustics of the Close, exacerbated itself, forced each voice to become rawer and wilder. There was panic in the din. If the Giants could be made to serve Despite, then nothing was safe, sure; betrayal lurked everywhere. Even the Bloodguard had an aspect of dismay in their flat faces.
Yet under the protesting and the abuse, Manethrall Rue stood firmly, holding up her head with a blaze of pride and fury in her eyes.
The next moment, Covenant reached her side. Shaking his fists at the assembly, he howled, “Hellfire! Can't you see that she's telling the truth?”
His voice had no effect. But something in his yell penetrated Hiltmark Quaan. The old veteran knew the Ramen well; he had known Rue during her youth. He jumped to his feet and shouted, “Order!!”
Caught in their trained military reactions, the Hafts sprang to attention.
Then High Lord Elena seemed to realize what was happening around her. She reasserted her control with a blast of blue fire from the Staff, and one hot cry:
“I am ashamed!”
A stung silence, writhing with fear and indignation, burned in answer to her shout. But she met it passionately, sternly, as if something precious were in danger. “
When she saw that she had mastered the assembly, she continued more quietly. “My friends, we are more than this. I do not know the meaning of Manethrall Rue's tidings. Perhaps the Despiser has captured and broken a Giant through the power of the Illearth Stone. Perhaps he can create ill wights in any semblance he desires, and showed a false Giant to Rue, knowing how the tale of a betraying Rockbrother would harm us. We must gain answers to these questions. But here stands Manethrall Rue of the Ramen, exhausted in the accomplishment of a help which we can neither match nor repay. Cleanse your hearts of all thought against her. We must not do such injustice.”
“Right.” Troy heaved himself to his feet. His brain was working again. He was ashamed of his weakness and, by extension, ashamed of his Hafts as well. Belatedly, he remembered that the Lords Callindrill and Amatin had been unable to breach Sarangrave Flat and yet Rue had survived it, so that she could come to warn Revelstone. And he did not like to think that Covenant had behaved better than he. “You're right.” He faced the Ramen squarely. “Manethrall, my Hafts and I owe you an apology. You deserve better-especially from us.” He put acid in his tone for the ears of the Hafts. “War puts burdens on people without caring whether they're ready for them or not.”
He did not wait for any reply. Turning toward Quaan, he said, “Hiltmark-my thanks for keeping your head. Let's make sure that nothing like this happens again.” Then he sat down and withdrew behind his sunglasses to try to think of some way to salvage his battle plans.
Quaan commanded, “Rest!” The Hafts reseated themselves, looking abashed-and yet in some way more determined than before. That seemed to mark the end of an ugliness. Manethrall Rue and ur-Lord Covenant sagged, leaned tiredly toward each other as if for support. The High Lord started to speak, but Rue interrupted her in a low voice: “I want no more apologies. Release me. I must rest.”
Elena nodded sadly. “Manethrall Rue, go in Peace. All the hospitality Revelstone can provide is yours for as long as you choose to stay. We do not take the service you have done us lightly. But please hear me. We have never taken the Ramen lightly. And the value of the Ranyhyn to all the Land is beyond any measure. We do not forget. Hail, Manethrall! May the bloom of
Manethrall Rue returned the gesture, and added the traditional salute of farewell; touching the heels of her hands to her forehead, she bent forward and spread her arms wide as if baring her heart. Together, the Lords answered her bow. Then she turned and started up toward the high doors. Covenant went with her, walking at her side awkwardly, as if he wanted and feared to take her arm.
At the top of the stairs, they stopped and faced each other. Covenant looked at her with emotions that seemed to make the bone between his eyes bulge. He had to strain to speak. “What can I-is there anything I can do-to make you Gay again?”
“You are young and I am old. This journey has taken much from me. I have few summers left. There is nothing.”
“My time has a different speed. Don't covet my life.”
“You are Covenant Ringthane. You have power. How should I not covet?”
He ducked away from her gaze; and after a short pause she added, “The Ranyhyn still await your command. Nothing is ended. They served you at Mount Thunder, and will serve you again-until you release them.” When she passed through the doors away from him, he was left staring down at his hands as if their emptiness pained him.
But after a moment he pulled himself up, and came back down the stairs to take his seat again.
For a time, there was silence in the Close. The gathered people watched the Lords, and the Lords sat still, bending their minds in toward each other to meld their purpose and strength. This had a calming effect on the assembly. It was part of the mystery of being a Lord, and all the people of the Land, Stonedownor and Woodhelvennin, trusted the Lords. As long as the Council was capable of melding and leadership, Revelstone would not be without hope. Even Warmark Troy gained a glimpse of encouragement from this communion he could not share.
At last, the contact broke with an almost audible snap from Lord Verement, and the High Lord raised her head to the assembly. “My friends, warriors, servants of the Land,” she said, 'now is the time of decision.
