it or deflect its aim. He, Thomas Covenant, was a leper; he alone in all the Land had the moral experience or training for this task. Facing between Foamfollower and Triock, addressing them both, he said, “You can either help me or not.”
Triock met him squarely. “I will not aid you. I will undertake to send word of you to High Lord Mhoram-but I will not share in this defamation of Peace.”
“It is the wild magic, Triock,” Foamfollower said as if he were pleading on Covenant’s behalf, “the wild magic which destroys Peace. You have heard the song. White gold surpasses all Oaths.”
“Yet I will retain my own. Without the Oath, I would have slain the Unbeliever seven and forty years ago. Let him accept that, and be content.”
Softly, the Giant said, “I hear you, my friend. You are worthy of the Land you serve.” Then he turned to Covenant. “Ur-Lord, permit me to accompany you. I am a Giant-I may be of use. And I–I yearn to strike closer blows against the Soulcrusher who so appalled my kindred. And I know the peril. I have seen the ways in which we become what we hate. Permit me.”
Before Covenant could reply, Lena jumped to her feet. “Permit me also!” she cried excitedly.
“Lena!” Triock protested.
She paid no attention to him. “I wish to accompany you. I have waited so long. I have striven to be worthy. I have mothered a High Lord and ridden a Ranyhyn. I am young and strong. Ah, I yearn to share with you. Permit me, Thomas Covenant.”
The wind hummed softly between the houses, carrying the snow like haze into Covenant’s eyes. The flakes flicked cold at his sore lip, but still he nodded his approval of the gathering flurries. A good snowfall would cover his trail. The snow muffled the sounds of the village, and he seemed to be speaking to himself as he said, “Let’s get going. I’ve got debts to pay.”
Seven: Message to Revelstone
THOUGH his jaws ached with protests, Triock gave the orders which sent several of his comrades hurrying to collect supplies for Covenant, Foamfollower, and Lena. In that moment, the giving of those orders seemed to be the hardest thing he had ever done. The restraint which had allowed Covenant to live seven and forty years ago paled by comparison. The exertions which had brought Covenant to the Land now lost their meaning. Lena Atiaran- daughter’s desire to accompany the Unbeliever turned all Triock’s long years of devotion to dust and loss, and all his lavish love had been wasted.
Yet he could not refuse her-could not, though he had the authority to do so. He was one of Mithil Stonedown’s Circle of elders, and by old Stonedown tradition, even marriages and long journeys were subject to the approval of the Circle. Furthermore, he was the acknowledged leader of Mithil Stonedown’s defence. He could have commanded Lena to stay at home, and if his reasons were valid, all the Stonedown would have fought to keep her.
His reasons were valid. Lena was old, half confused. She might hamper Covenant’s movements; she might even risk his life again, as she had so recently. She would be in danger from all the enemies between Mithil Stonedown and Foul’s Creche. Covenant was the one man responsible for her condition, the man who had permanently warped the channel of her life. And he, Triock son of Thuler-he loved her.
Yet he gave the orders. He had never loved Lena in a way which would have enabled him to control her. At one time, he had been ready to break his Oath of Peace for her, but throughout most of his life now he had kept it for her. He had done his utmost to raise her daughter free of shame and outrage. He could not begin now to refuse the cost of a love to which he had so entirely given himself.
Once that ordeal was over, he grew somewhat calmer. In the back of his heart, he believed that if there were any hope for the Land in Thomas Covenant, it depended upon Covenant’s responses to Lena. Then his chief bitterness lay in the fact that he himself could not accompany Covenant could not go along to watch over Lena. He had his own work to do, work which he acknowledged and approved. Through the yearning clench of his jaws, he told himself that he would have to rely on Saltheart Foamfollower.
With a brusque movement, he pushed the grey snow out of his eyes and looked toward the Giant. Foamfollower met his gaze, came over to him, and said, “Be easy at heart, my friend. You know that I am not an inconsiderable ally. I will do all I can for both.”
“Take great care,” Triock breathed through his teeth. “The eyes which saw our work upon Kevin’s Watch are yet open. We did not close them in this battle.”
Foamfollower studied this thought for a moment, then said, “If that is true, then it is you who must take the greatest care. You bear your High Wood into the hazard of the South Plains.”
Triock shrugged. “High Wood or white gold-we must all tread cunningly. I can send none of my people with you.”
With a nod of approval, the Giant said, “I would refuse if they were offered. You will need every sword. The mountains where you will seek this Unfettered One are many leagues distant, and you will be required to fight much of your way.”
The clench of Triock’s teeth made his voice rasp harshly. “I take none but Quirrel and Yeurquin with me.”
Foamfollower started to protest, but Triock cut him off. “I need the speed of few companions. And Mithil Stonedown stands now in its gravest peril. For the first time, we have given open battle to the marauders. With the power we revealed on Kevin’s Watch, and the strength of our victory here, we have declared beyond question that we are not mere vagabond warriors, seeking refuge in lifeless homes. We have defended our Stonedown-we are an unbeaten people. Therefore the enemy will return against us with a host to dwarf this last band. No, Rockbrother,” he concluded grimly, “every war-ready hand must remain to hold what we have won — lest our foes break upon the Stonedown like a wave and leave not one home standing.”
After a moment, Foamfollower sighed. “I hear you. Ah, Triock-these are grave times indeed. I will rest easier when my friend Mhoram son Of Variol has received word of what we do.”
“You believe I will succeed?”
“Who can if you cannot? You are hardy and knowledgeable, familiar with plains and mountains-and marauders. You have accepted the need, though your feet yearn to follow other paths. Those who pursue their heart’s desire risk more subtle failures and treacheries. In some ways, it is well to leave your soul wish in other hands.” He spoke musingly, as if in his thoughts he were comparing Triock’s position with his own. “You can accomplish this message purely.”
“I reap one other blessing also,” Triock returned through a mouthful of involuntary gall. “The burden of mercy falls on your shoulders. Perhaps you will bear it more easily.”
Foamfollower sighed again, then smiled gently. “Ah, my friend, I know nothing of mercy. My own need for it is too great.”
The sight of Foamfollower’s smiling regret made Triock wish that he could protest against what the Giant said. But he understood only too well the complex loss and rue which weighed on Foamfollower. Instead, he returned the best smile he could manage and saluted Foamfollower from the bottom of his heart. Then he turned away to make his own preparations for travel.
In a short time, he packed blankets, an extra cloak, a small stoneware pot of graveling, supplies of dried meat, cheese, and fruit, and a knife to replace the one he had given Covenant, in a knapsack. He took only a few moments to whet his sword, and to secure his
But he clenched the thought to himself as he returned Foamfollower’s final salute. There was nothing he could say. And a moment later, the Giant arid his two companions had disappeared northward between the
