He paused for a moment to lash down his passion, then went on. “In the years which followed, I waited for the reason of High Lord Mhoram’s gift to be made plain. During that time, I fought with my people against the marauders of the Grey Slayer. Then the Giant Saltheart Foamfollower joined us, and we fought together through the South Plains. While winter increased upon the Land, we attacked and ran and attacked again, doing what damage we could to our vast foe. But at last word came to us that Revelwood had fallen-that great Revelstone itself was besieged. We left our battles, and returned to Mithil Stonedown and Kevin’s Watch. With the
Triock’s flint voice sparked visions of desperation in Covenant’s mind. To resist them, control them until he was ready for them, he asked, “But how? I thought only the Staff of Law-”
“Much has been broken by the fall of High Lord Elena,” Triock retorted. “The Land has not yet tasted all the consequences of that evil. But the Staff made possible certain expressions of power-and limited others. Now that limit is gone. Do you not feel the malice of this winter?”
Covenant nodded with an ache in his eyes. His responsibility for Elena’s end stung him, goaded him to ask another kind of question. “That doesn’t tell me why you did it. After Lena-and Elena-and Atiaran”- he could not bring himself to be more specific-“and everything-you’ve got less reason than anyone in the world to want me back. Even Trell-Maybe Foamfollower here can forget, but you can’t. If you were thinking it any louder, I could taste it.”
Bitterness clenched Triock’s jaws, but his reply was sharp and ready, as if he had whetted it many times. “Yet Foamfollower is persuasive. The Land is persuasive. The importance which the Lorewardens see in you is persuasive. And Lena daughter of Atiaran still lives in Mithil Stonedown. In her last years, Atiaran Trell-mate said often that it is the duty of the living to make meaningful the sacrifices of the dead. But I wish to find meaning for the sacrifices of those who live. After-after the harm which you wrought upon Lena-she hid herself so that the harm would not be known-so that you would be left free to bear your prophecy to the Lords. That sacrifice requires meaning, Unbeliever.”
In spite of himself, in spite of his own expectations of hostility and recrimination, Covenant believed Triock. Elena had warned him; she had described the size of Triock’s capabilities. Now he wondered where Triock found his strength. The man had been an unambitious Cattleherd. The girl he loved had been raped, and her bastard daughter had grown up to love the rapist. Yet because of them he had gone to the Loresraat, studied dangerous lore for which he had no desire or affinity. He had become a guerrilla fighter for the Land. And now he had summoned Covenant at the command of the Land’s need and his own harsh sense of mercy. Thickly, Covenant muttered, “You’ve kept your Oath.” He was thinking, I owe you for this, too, Foul.
Abruptly, Triock got to his feet. The lines around his eyes dominated his face as he scrutinized Covenant. In a low voice, he said, “What will you do?”
“Ask me later.” Covenant was ashamed that he could not match Triock’s gaze. “I’m not ready yet.” Instinctively, he clasped his right hand over his ring, hiding it from consideration.
“There is time,” murmured Foamfollower. “You have a great need for rest.”
Triock said, “Choose soon. We must be on our way at dawn.” Then he moved brusquely away through the mounting snow toward his two companions by the second pot of graveling.
“He is a good man,” Foamfollower said softly. “Trust him.”
Oh, I trust him, Covenant thought. How can I help it?
Despite the warmth of his blankets, he began to shiver again.
As he leaned still closer to the glowing fire-stones, he noticed the look of concern on Foamfollower’s face. To forestall any expression of anxiety which would remind him how little he deserved the Giant’s concern, he said hastily, “I still don’t know what’s happened to you. The Giants Were — I don’t know what happened to them. And you-You’ve been outrageously hacked upon.” In an effort to probe Foamfollower, he went on: “I’d tell you something funny. I was afraid of what you might do — after all that business in Treacher’s Gorge. I was afraid you might go back to your people and-and convince them to stop fighting, give it up. What do you think? Have I finally succeeded in telling you a story you can laugh at?”
But he saw poignantly that he had not. Foamfollower bowed his head, covered his face with one hand. For a moment, the muscles of his shoulders tensed as if with his fingers he were squeezing the bones of his countenance into an attitude which he could not achieve in any other way. “Joy is in the ears that hear,” he said in a voice muffled by his hand. “My ears have been too full of the noise of killing.”
Then he raised his head, and his expression was calm. Only a smouldering deep within the caves of his eyes revealed that he was hurt. “I am not yet ready to laugh over this matter. Were I able to laugh, I would not feel so- driven to slay Soulcrusher’s creatures.”
“Foamfollower,” Covenant murmured again, “what’s happened to you?”
The Giant gestured helplessly with both hands, as if he could not conceive any way to tell his story. “My friend, I am what you see. Here is a tale which lies beyond even my grasp, and I am a Giant-though you will remember that my people considered me uncommonly brief of speech. Stone and Sea! Covenant, I know not what to say. You know how I fought for the Quest for the Staff of Law. When Damelon Giantfriend’s prophecy for my people came to pass, I found that I could not give up this fighting. I had struck blows which would not stop. Therefore I left Seareach, so that I would at least serve the Land with my compulsion.
“But I did not go to the Lords. In my thoughts, the great rare beauty of Revelstone, Giant-wrought Lord’s Keep, daunted me. I did not wish to stand in those brave halls while Soulcrusher’s creatures raved in the Land. For that reason, I fight, and spend my days with people who fight. From the Northron Climbs to the Last Hills I have struck my blows. When I met Triock son of Thuler and his companions-when I learned that he holds a limb of the High Wood, descendant of the One Tree from which the Staff of Law was made-I joined him. In that way, I garnered my scars, and at last came here.”
“You’ve been around humans too long,” muttered Covenant. “You haven’t told me anything. What-? How-? I don’t know where to begin.”
“Then do not begin, my friend. Rest.” Foamfollower reached out and gently touched Covenant’s shoulder. “You also have been too long among-people of another kind. You need days of rest which I fear you will not receive. You must sleep.”
To his surprise, Covenant found that he was capable of sleep. Warm drowsiness seeped into him from the blankets and the graveling light, spread outward from the
But as Foamfollower adjusted the blankets for him, he asked, “How much longer is this winter going to last?”
“Peace, my friend,” Foamfollower replied. “The Land’s spring should have been born three full moons ago.”
A shudder of ice ran through Covenant. Bloody hell, Foul! he gritted. Hellfire!
But in his reclining position he could not resist his long weariness. He fell asleep almost at once, thinking, Hellfire. Hell and blood.
He lay in red, visionless slumber until sometime after dark he seemed to hear voices that awakened him slightly. Disembodied in his grogginess, they spoke across him as if he were a prostrate corpse.
“You told him little of the truth,” Triock said.
And Foamfollower answered, “He has pain enough for one heart. How could I tell him?”
“He must know. He is responsible.”
“No. For this he is not responsible.”
“Still he must know.”
“Even stone may break when it is too heavily burdened.”
“Ah, Rockbrother. How will you justify yourself if he turns against the Land?”
“Peace, my friend. Do not torment me. I have already learned that I cannot be justified.”
Covenant listened incomprehendingly. When the voices drifted out of his awareness, he sank into wild dreams of purpose and savage restitution.
