they should have been afraid but were too badly hurt for fear. Then, in agony, even the horses with broken legs tried to rear.
“Stop it. Stop.” Covenant hardly knew that he was moaning aloud. His hands flinched in front of his face, trying to ward off an abominable vision. “I can’t stand it.”
Firmly, Banner took his arm and drew him past the chamber into another passage through the rock.
After a few steps, his legs failed him. But Banner gripped him, bore him up. Clutching with useless fingers at the Bloodguard’s shoulders, he pulled himself around until he was facing Bannor. “Why?” he panted into Bannor’s flat visage. “Why did they do that?”
Banner’s face and voice revealed nothing. “You are the Ringthane. They have made promises to you.”
“Promises.” Covenant rubbed a hand over his eyes. The promises of the Ranyhyn limped across his memory. “Hell and blood.” With an effort, he pushed away from Banner. Bracing himself against the wall of the crevice, he clenched his trembling fists as if he were trying to squeeze steadiness out of them. His fingers ached for the Despiser’s throat. “They should be killed!” he raged thickly. “They should be put out of their misery! How can you be so cruel?”
Manethrall Kam spat, “Is that how it is done in your world, Ringthane?”
But Bannor replied evenly, “They are the Ranyhyn. Do not presume to offer them kindness. How can any human decide the choices of death and pain for them?”
At this, Foamfollower reached out and touched Banner’s shoulder in a gesture of respect.
Covenant’s jaw muscles jumped as he bit his shouts into silence. He followed the Giant’s gesture, turned, and looked greyly up at Foamfollower. Both the Giant and Bannor had witnessed his bargain with the Ranyhyn forty- seven years ago, when the great horses had first reared to him; Bannor and Foamfollower and Mhoram and Quaan might be the last remaining survivors of the Quest for the Staff of Law. But they were enough. They could accuse him. The Ramen could accuse him. He still did not know all the things of which they could accuse him.
His wedding band hung loosely on his ring finger; he had lost weight, and the white gold dangled as if it were meaningless. He needed its power. Without power, he was afraid to guess at the things which were being kept from him.
Abruptly, he stepped up to Kam, jabbed the Manethrall’s chest with one stiff finger. “By hell,” he muttered into Kam’s glare, “if you’re only doing this out of pride, I hope you rot for it. You could have taken them south into the mountains-you could have saved them from this. Pride isn’t a good enough excuse.”
Again the ghoul-begotten hurt darkened Kam’s gaze. “It is not pride,” he said softly. “The Ranyhyn do not choose to go.”
Without wanting to, Covenant believed him. He could not doubt what he saw in the Manethrall. He drew back, straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath. “Then you’d better help me. Trust me whether you want to or not. I hate Foul just as much as you do.”
“That may be,” Kam replied, recovering his severity. “We will not contradict the Ranyhyn concerning you. I saw-I would not have believed if I had not seen. To rear! Hurt as they are! You need not fear us. But your companions are another matter. The woman”-he made an effort to speak calmly- “I do not distrust. Her love for the Manes is in her face. But this Giant-he must prove himself.”
“I hear you, Manethrall,” said Foamfollower quietly. “I will respect your distrust as best I can.”
Kam met the Giant’s look, then glanced over at Bannor. The Bloodguard shrugged impassively. Kam nodded and led the way farther down the cleft.
Before following, Covenant regained his grip on Lena’s hand. She did not raise her head, and in the gloom he could see nothing of her eyes but the bruises under them. “Be brave,” he said as gently as he could. “Maybe it won’t all be this bad.” She made no response, but when he drew her forward she did not resist. He kept her at his side, and soon they stepped together out the far end of the passage.
The cleft opened into a hidden valley which seemed spacious after the constriction of its approach. Over a flat floor of packed dirt the sheer walls rose ruggedly to a narrow swath of evening sky. The valley itself was long and deep; its crooked length formed a vague S, ending in another crevice in the hills. Battered rock pillars and piles stood against the walls in several places, and in the corners and crannies around these immense stones, sheltered from any snowfall through the open roof, were Ramen tents-the nomadic homes of individual families. They seemed pitifully few in the canyon.
Manethrall Kam had announced himself with a shout as he entered the valley, and when Covenant and Lena caught up with him, dozens of Ramen were already moving toward them from the tents. Covenant was struck by how much they all shared Kam’s haunted air. In sharp contrast to the Ranyhyn, they were not ill-fed. The Ramen were renowned for their skill as hunters, and clearly they were better able to provide more meat for themselves than grass for the horses. Nevertheless they were suffering. Every one of them who was not either a child or infirm wore the apparel of a Cord, though even Covenant’s untrained and superficial eyes could see how unready some were for the work and risk of being Cords. This fact confirmed his earlier guess that the Ramen population had been dangerously reduced, by winter or war. And they all had Kam’s driven, sleepless aspect, as if they could not rest because their dreams were fraught with horror.
Now Covenant knew intuitively what it was. All of them, even the children, were haunted by the bloody visage of Ranyhyn extermination. They were afraid that the meaning, the reason, of their entire race would soon be eradicated utterly from the Land. The Ramen had always lived for the Ranyhyn, and now they believed they would only survive long enough to see the last Ranyhyn slaughtered. As long as the great horses refused to leave the Plains, the Ramen were helpless to prevent that end.
Only their stubborn, fighting pride kept them from despair.
They met Covenant, Lena, and the Giant with silence and hollow stares. Lena hardly seemed to notice them, but Foamfollower gave them a bow in the Ramen style, and Covenant took his example, though the salute exposed his ring for all to see.
Several Cords murmured at the sight of the white gold, and one of the Manethralls said grimly, “It is true, then. He has returned.” When Kam told them what the wounded Ranyhyn had done, some recoiled in pained amazement, and others muttered angrily under their breath. Yet they all bowed to Covenant; the Ranyhyn had reared to him, and the Ramen could not refuse him welcome.
Then the Winhomes, the Ramen who were too young or too old or too crippled to be Cords, moved away, and the three Manethralls Kam had mentioned earlier came forward to be introduced. When they had given their names, Manethrall Jain, the grim woman who had just spoken, asked Kam, “Was it necessary to admit the Giant?”
“He’s my friend,” Covenant said at once. “And Bannor knows he can be trusted, even if the Bloodguard are too thickheaded to say such things out loud. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Saltheart Foamfollower.”
“You honour me too much,” Foamfollower said wryly.
The Manethralls weighed Covenant’s words as if his speech had more than one meaning. But Bannor said, “Saltheart Foamfollower shared the Quest for the Staff of Law with High Lord Prothall, ur-Lord Covenant, and Manethrall Lithe. At that time, he was worthy of trust. But I have seen many trusts fall into Corruption. Perhaps nothing of the old Giantish faith remains.”
“You don’t believe that,” Covenant snapped.
Bannor raised one eyebrow. “Have you seen The Grieve, ur-Lord? Has Saltheart Foamfollower told you what occurred in the Seareach home of the Giants?”
“No.”
“Then you have been too quick with your trust.”
Covenant tightened his grip on himself. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“That is not my place. I do not offer to guide you to Ridjeck Thome.
Covenant started to protest, but Foamfollower placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. In spite of the conflicting emotions which knotted the Giant’s forehead, smouldered dangerously in his cavernous eye-sockets, his voice was steady as he said, “Is it the Ramen custom to keep their guests standing cold and hungry after a long journey?”
Kam spat on the ground, but Manethrall Jain replied tautly, “No, that is not our custom. Behold.” She nodded toward the head of the canyon, where the Winhomes were busy around a large fire under the overhang of one of the pillars. “The food will be prepared soon. It is
