But neither of them moved, though the River Landrider was nearby beyond a low line of hills. Covenant knew they were holding themselves at his disposal; they seemed to sense that he needed them. And they had questions of their own. But he felt unready for the things he would have to say. After a silence, he asked painfully,’ Triock summoned me-and he’s dead. Why am I still here?”
Foamfollower mused briefly, then said, “Perhaps because the Law of Death has been broken-perhaps it was that Law which formerly sent you from the Land when your summoner died. Or perhaps it is because I also had a hand in this call.”
Yes, Covenant sighed to himself. His debt to Triock was hardly less than what he owed Foamfollower.
He could not shirk the responsibility any longer; he forced himself to describe what had happened to Lena.
His voice was dull as he spoke of her-an old woman brought to a bloody and graveless end because in her confusion she clung to the man who had harmed her. And her death was only the most recent tragedy in her family. First and last, her people had borne the brunt of him: Trell Gravelingas, Atiaran Trell-mate, High Lord Elena, Lena herself-he had ruined them all. Such things altered him, made a different man of him. That made it possible for him to ask another question after he had told all he knew of his own tale.
“Foamfollower”-he framed his inquiry as carefully as he could- “it’s none of my business. But Pietten said some terrible things about you. Or he meant them to be terrible. He said-” But he could not say the words. No matter how he uttered them, they would sound like an accusation.
The Giant sighed, and his whole frame sagged. He studied his intertwined hands as if somewhere in their clasped gentleness and butchery were a secret he could not unclose, but he no longer evaded the question. “He said that I betrayed my kinfolk-that the Giants of Seareach died to the last child at the hands of
Foamfollower! Covenant moaned. My friend! Sorrow welled up in him, almost made him weep again.
Abstractedly, Bannor said, “Many things were lost in The Grieve that day.”
” Yes.” Foamfollower blinked as if he were trying to hold back tears, but his eyes were dry, as parched as a wilderland. “Yes-many things. Among them I was the least.
“Ah, Covenant, how can I tell you of it? This tongue has no words long enough for the tale. No word can encompass the love for a lost homeland, or the anguish of diminishing seed, or the pride-the pride in fidelity-That fidelity was our only reply to our extinction. We could not have borne our decline if we had not taken pride.
“So my people-the Giants-I also, in my own way-the Giants were filled with horror-with abhorrence so deep that it numbed the very marrow of their bones-when they saw their pride riven-torn from them like rotten sails in the wind. They foundered at the sight. They saw the portent of their hope of Home-the three brothers-changed from fidelity to the most potent ill by one small stroke of the Despiser’s evil. Who in the Land could hope to stand against a Giant-Raver? Thus the Unhomed became the means to destroy that to which they had held themselves true. And in horror at the naught of their fidelity, their folly practiced through long centuries of pride, they were transfixed. Their revulsion left no room in them for thought or resistance or choice. Rather than behold the cost of their failure-rather than risk the chance that more of them would be made Soulcrusher’s servants-they- they elected to be slain.
“I also-in my way, I was horrified as well. But I had already seen what they had not, until that moment. I had seen myself become what I hated. Alone of all my kindred, I was not surprised. It was not the vision of a Giant- Raver which horrified me. It was my-my own people.
“Ah! Stone and Sea! They appalled me. I stormed at them-I ran through The Grieve like a dark sea of madness, howling at their abandonment, raging to strike one spark of resistance in the drenched tinder of their hearts. But they-they put away their tools, and banked their fires, and made ready their homes as if in preparation for departure- ” Abruptly, his suppressed passion broke into a cry. “My people! I could not bear it! I fled them with abjection crowding at my heart-fled them lest I, too, should fall into their dismay. Therefore they were slain. I who might have fought the Raver deserted them in the deepest blackness of their need.” Unable to contain himself any longer, he heaved to his feet. His raw, scourged voice rasped thickly in his throat. “I am unclean. I must- wash.”
Holding himself stiffly upright, he turned and lumbered away toward the river.
The helplessness of Covenant’s pain came out as anger. His own voice shook as he muttered to Banner, “If you say one word to blame him, I swear-“
Then he stopped himself. He had accused Bannor unjustly too often in the past; the Bloodguard had long ago earned better treatment than this from him. But Bannor only shrugged. “I am a
His speech made Covenant look at him closely. Something came up between them that had never been laid to rest, neither on Gallows Howe nor in the Ramen covert. It wore the aspect of habitual Bloodguard distrust, but as he met Banner’s eyes, Covenant sensed that the issue was a larger one.
Without inflection, Bannor went on: “Hate and vengeance are also masks.”
Covenant was struck by how much the Bloodguard had aged. His mortality had accelerated. His hair was the same silver as his eyebrows; his skin had a sere appearance, as if it had started to wither; and his wrinkles looked oddly fatal, like gullies of death in his countenance. Yet his steady dispassion seemed as complete as ever. He did not look like a man who had deserted his sworn loyalty to the Lords.
“Ur-Lord,” he said evenly, “what will you do?”
“Do?” Covenant did his best to match the Bloodguard, though he could not look at Banner’s aging without remorse. “I still have work to do. I’ve got to go to Foul’s Creche.”
“For what purpose?”
“I’ve got to stop him.”
“High Lord Elena also strove to stop him. You have seen the outcome.”
“Yes.” Covenant did full justice to Banner’s statement. But he did not falter. “I’ve got to find a better answer than she did.”
“Do you make this choice out of hate?”
He met the question squarely. “I don’t know.”
“Then why do you go?”
“Because I must.” That
Bannor considered this for a moment, then asked bluntly, “Do you know then how to make use of the wild magic?”
“No,” Covenant answered. “Yes.” He hesitated, not because he doubted his reply, but because he was reluctant to say it aloud. But his sense of what was unresolved between him and Bannor had become clearer; something more than distrust was at stake. “I don’t know how to call it up, do anything with it. But I know how to trigger it.” He remembered vividly how Bannor had compelled him to help High Lord Prothall summon the Fire-Lions of Mount Thunder. “If I can get to the Illearth Stone-I can do something.”
The Bloodguard’s voice was hard. “The Stone corrupts.”
“I know.” He understood Banner’s point vividly. “I know. That’s why I have to get to it. That’s what this is all about-everything. That’s why Foul has been manipulating me. That’s why Elena-why Elena did what she did. That’s why Mhoram trusted me.”
Bannor did not relent. “Will it be another Desecration?”
Covenant had to steady himself before he could reply. “I hope not. I don’t want it to be.”
In answer, the Bloodguard got to his feet. Looking soberly down at the Unbeliever, he said, “Ur-Lord Covenant, I will not accompany you for this purpose.”
“Not?” Covenant protested. In the back of his mind, he had been counting on Banner’s companionship.
“No. I no longer serve Lords.”
More harshly than he intended, Covenant rasped, “So you’ve decided to turn your back?”
“No.” Bannor denied the charge flatly. “What help I can, I will give. All the Bloodguard knowledge of the Spoiled Plains, of Kurash Qwellinir and Hotash Slay, I will share with you. But Ridjeck Thome, Corruption’s seat- there I will not go. The deepest wish of the Bloodguard was to fight the Despiser in his home, pure service against
