He ran over the hard ground, hurried up to the man, caught him by the shoulders. “Triock.” An awkward thickness in his throat constricted his voice. “Triock? What are you doing here? How did you get here? What happened?”

As Covenant panted questions at him, the man averted his face so that the hood sheltered his features. His hands leaped to Covenant’s wrists, tore Covenant’s hands off his shoulders as if their touch were noxious to him. With unmistakable ire, he thrust Covenant away from him. But when he spoke, his barking tone sounded almost casual.

“Well, ur-Lord Covenant, Unbeliever and white gold wielder.” He invested the titles with a sarcastic twang. “You have not come far in so many days. Have you rested well in Morinmoss?”

Covenant stared and rubbed his wrists; Triock’s anger left a burning sensation in them, like a residue of acid. The pain gave him an instant of doubt, but he recognized Triock’s profile beyond the edge of the hood. In his confusion, he could not think of a reason for the Stonedownor’s belligerence. “What happened?” he repeated uncertainly. “Did you get in touch with Mhoram? Did you find that Unfettered One?”

Triock kept his face averted. But his fingers flexed and curled like claws, hungry for violence.

Then a wave of sorrow effaced Covenant’s confusion. “Did you find Lena?”

With the same hoarse casualness, Triock said, “I followed you because I do not trust your purpose-or your companions. I see that I have not misjudged.”

“Did you find Lena?”

“Your vaunted aim against the Despiser is expensive in companions as well as in time. How was the Giant persuaded from your side? Did you leave him”-he sneered-“among the perverse pleasures of Morinmoss?”

“Lena?” Covenant insisted thickly.

Triock’s hands jerked to his face as if he meant to claw out his eyes. His palms muffled his voice, made it sound more familiar. “With a spike in her belly. And a man slain at her side.” Fierce trembling shook him. But abruptly he dropped his hands, and his tone resumed its mordant insouciance. “Perhaps you will ask me to believe that they slew each other.”

Through his empty sorrow, Covenant replied, “It was my fault. She tried to save me. Then I killed him.” He felt the incompleteness of this, and added, “He wanted my ring.”

“The fool!” Triock barked sharply. “Did he believe he would be permitted to keep it?” But he did not give Covenant time to respond. Quietly again, he asked, “And the Giant?”

“We were ambushed. He stayed behind-so that Lena and I could get away.”

A harsh laugh spat between Triock’s teeth. “Faithful to the last,” he gibed. The next instant, a wild sob convulsed him as if his self-control had snapped-as if a frantic grief had burst the bonds which held it down. But immediately he returned to sarcasm. Showing Covenant a flash of his teeth, he sneered, “It is well that I have come.”

“Well?” Covenant breathed. “Triock, what happened to you?” “Well, forsooth.” The man sniffed as if he were fighting tears. ” You have lost much time in that place of harm and seduction. With each passing day, the Despiser grows mightier. He straitly binds-” His teeth grinned at Covenant under the shadow of his hood. “Thomas Covenant, your work must be no longer delayed. I have come to take you to Ridjeck Thome.”

Covenant gazed intensely at the man. A moment passed while he tested his hollow core and found that it remained sure. Then he bent all his attention toward Triock, tried to drive his truncated sight past its limits, its superficiality, so that he might catch some glimpse of Triock’s inner estate. But the winter, and Triock’s distraction, foiled him. He saw the averted face, the rigid flex and claw of the fingers, the baring of the white wet teeth, the turmoil, but he could not penetrate beyond them. Some stark travail was upon the Stonedownor. In sympathy and bafflement and self-defence, Covenant said, “Triock, you’ve got to tell me what happened.”

“Must I?”

“Yes.”

“Do you threaten me? Will you turn the wild magic against me if I refuse?” Triock winced as if he were genuinely afraid, and an oddly craven grimace flicked like a spasm across his lips. But then he shrugged sharply and turned his back, so that he was facing straight into the wind. “Ask, then.”

Threaten? Covenant asked Triock’s hunched shoulders. No, no. I don’t want it to happen again. I’ve done enough harm.

“Ask!”

“Did you”-he could hardly get the words through his clogged throat-“did you find that Unfettered One?”

“Yes!”

“Did he contact Mhoram?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“He did not suffice!”

The bitterness of the words barked along the bitter wind, and Covenant could only repeat, “Triock, what happened?”

“The Unfettered One lacked strength to match the lomillialor. He took it from me and could not match it. Yeurquin and Quirrel were lost-more companions lost while you dally and falter!”

Both lost.

“I didn’t-How did you find me?”

“This is expensive blood, Covenant. When will it sate you?”

Sate me? Triock! The question hurt him, but he endured it. He had long ago lost the right to take umbrage at anything Triock might say. With difficulty, he asked again, “How did you find me?”

“I waited! Where else could you have gone?”

“Triock.” Covenant covered himself with the void of his calm and said, “Triock, look at me.”

“I do not wish to look at you.”

“Look at me!”

“I have no stomach for the sight.”

“Triock!” Covenant placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.

Instantly, Triock spun and struck Covenant across the cheek.

The blow did not appear powerful; Triock swung shortly, as if he were trying to pull back his arm. But force erupted at the impact, threw Covenant to the ground several feet away. His cheek stung with a deep pain like vitriol that made his eyes stream. He barely saw Triock flinch, turn and start to flee, then catch himself and stop, waiting across the distance of a dozen yards as if he expected Covenant to hurl a spear through his back.

The pain roared like a rush of black waters in Covenant’s head, but he forced himself to sit up, ignored his burning cheek, and said quietly, “I’m not going to Foul’s Creche.”

“Not?” Surprise spun Triock to face Covenant.

“No.” Covenant was vaguely surprised by his own certitude. “I’m going to cross the river-I’m going to try to go south with the Ramen. They might- ”

“You dare?” Triock yelled. He seemed livid with fury, but he did not advance toward Covenant. “You cost me my love! My comrades! My home! You slay every glad face of my life! And then you say you will deny the one promise which might recompense? Unbeliever! Do you think I would not kill you for such treachery?”

Covenant shrugged. “Kill me if you want to. It doesn’t make any difference.” The pain in his face interfered with his concentration, but still he saw the self-contradiction behind Triock’s threat. Fear and anger were balanced in the Stonedownor, as if he were two men trapped between flight and attack, straining in opposite directions. Somewhere amid those antagonists was the Triock Covenant remembered. He resisted the roaring in his head and tried to explain so that this Triock might understand.

“The only way you can kill me is if I’m dying in my own world. You saw me-when you summoned me. Maybe you could kill me. But if I’m really dying, it doesn’t matter whether you kill me or not. I’ll get killed somehow. Dreams are like that.

“But before you decide, let me try to tell you why-why I’m not going to Foul’s Creche.”

He got painfully to his feet. He wanted to go to Triock, look deeply into the man’s face, but Triock’s conflicting passions kept him at a distance.

“I’m not exactly innocent. I know that. I told you it was my fault, and it is. But it isn’t all my fault. Lena and Elena and Atiaran-and Giants and Ranyhyn and Ramen and Bloodguard-and you-it isn’t all my fault. All of you made

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