White Gold Wielder

At that Covenant wanted to cry out, plead, protest. No! Not again! Was not the genocide of the Unhomed enough? How could the Land sustain another such loss?

But Hamako seemed to see Covenant's thoughts in his aghast face. “You err, ring-wielder,” said the Stonedownor grimly. “Against Ravers and the Despiser, we were forewarned and defended. And Lord Foul had no cause to fear us. We were too paltry to give him threat. No. It was the ur-viles, the black and birthless kindred of the Waynhim, that wrought our ruin from rhysh to rhysh across the Land.”

Wrought our ruin. Our ruin across the Land Covenant was no longer looking at Hamako. He could not. All that beauty. Gone to grief where all dreams go. If he met those soft, brown, irreparable eyes, he would surely begin to weep.

“Their assault was enabled to succeed because we did not expect it-for had not ur-vile and Waynhim lived in truce during all the millennia of their existence? — and because they have studied destruction as the Waynhim have not.” Slowly, the edge of his tone was blunted. “We were fortunate in our way. Many of us were slain-among them some that you have known. Vraith, dhurng, ghramin.” He spoke the names as if he knew how they would strike Covenant; for those were Waynhim who had given their blood so that he could reach Revelstone in time to rescue Linden, Sunder, and Hollian. But many escaped. Other rhysh were butchered entirely.

“Those Waynhim that survived wandered without purpose until they encountered others to form new rhysh, for a Waynhim without community is a lorn thing, deprived of meaning. And therefore,” he concluded, “we are desperate in all sooth. We are the last. After us there will be no more.”

“But why?” Covenant asked his knotted hands and the blurred light, his voice as thick as blood in his throat. “Why did they attack — ? After all those centuries?”

“Because- ” Hamako replied; and now he did falter, caught by the pain behind his resolve. “Because we gave you shelter-and with you that making of the ur-viles which they name Vain.”

Covenant's head jerked up, eyes afire with protests. This crime at least should not be laid to his charge, though instinctively he believed it. He had never learned how to repudiate any accusation. But at once Hamako said, “Ah, no, Thomas Covenant, Your pardon. I have led you to miscomprehend me.” His voice resumed the impenetrable gentleness of a man who had lost too much. “The fault was neither yours nor ours. Even at Lord Foul's command the ur-viles would not have wrought such harm upon us for merely sheltering you and any companion. Do not think it. Their rage had another source.”

“What was it?” Covenant breathed. “What in hell happened?”

Hamako shrugged at the sheer simplicity of the answer. “It was their conviction that you gained from us an explanation of Vain Demondim-spawn's purpose.”

“But I didn't!” objected Covenant. “You wouldn't tell me.”

The Waynhim had commanded Hamako to silence. He had only replied, Were I to reveal the purpose of this Demondim-spawn, that revelation could well prevent the accomplishment of his purpose. And, That purpose is greatly desirable.

Now he sighed 'Yes. But how could our refusal be conveyed to the ur-viles? Their loathing permitted them no understanding of our Weird. And they did not inquire of us what we had done. In our place, they would not have scrupled to utter falsehood. Therefore they could not have believed any reply we gave. So they brought down retribution upon us, compelled by the passion of their desire that the secret of this Vain not be untimely revealed.”

And Vain stood behind the seated company as if he were deaf or impervious. The dead wood of his right forearm dangled from his elbow; but his useless hand was still undamaged, immaculate. As beautifully sculpted as a mockery of Covenant's flawed being.

But Hamako did not flinch or quail again, though his sombre gaze now held a dusky hue of fear.

“Thomas Covenant,” he said, his voice so soft that it barely carried across the circle of the company. “Ring- wielder.” His home. During Stonedown, had been destroyed by the na-Mhoram's Grim; but the Waynhim had given him a new home with them. And then that new home had been destroyed, ravaged for something the rhysh had not done. Twice bereft. 'Will you ask once more? Will you inquire of me here the purpose of this black Demondim-spawn?”

At that. Linden sat up straighter, bit her lips to hold back the question. The First tensed, anticipating explanations. Pitchwife's eyes sparkled like hope; even Mistweave stirred from his gloom. Cail cocked one dispassionate eyebrow.

But Covenant sat like Honninscrave, his emotions tangled by Hamako's apprehension. He understood the Stonedownor, knew what Bamako's indirect offer meant. The Waynhim no longer trusted their former refusal-were no longer able to credit the unmalice of the ur-viles' intent. The violence of their rum had shaken them fundamentally. And yet their basic perceptions remained. The trepidation in Hamako’s visage showed that he had learned to dread the implications of both speaking and not speaking.

He was asking Covenant to take the responsibility of decision from him.

He and his rhysh had come here to die. Fiercely, with all the attention of the company on him Covenant forced himself to say, “No.”

His gaze burned as he confronted Hamako across the rude stone. “You've already refused once.” Within himself, he swore bitterly at the necessity which compelled him to reject everything that might help or ease or guide him. But he did not shrink from it. “I trust you.”

Linden gave him a glare of exasperation. Pitchwife's face widened in surprise. But Hamako's rue worn features softened with undisguised relief.

Later, while Covenant's companions rested or slept in the warmth of the cavern, Hamako took the Unbeliever aside for a private conversation. Gently, Hamako urged Covenant to depart before the coming battle. Night was upon the Northron Climbs, the night before the dark of the moon; but a Waynhim could be spared to guide the company up the escarpment toward the relative safety of Landsdrop. The quest would be able to travel without any immediate fear of the arghuleh.

Covenant refused brusquely. “You've done too much for me already. Tm not going to leave you like this,”

Hamako peered into Covenant's clenched glower. After a moment, the Stonedownor breathed. “Ah, Thomas Covenant Will you hazard the wild magic to aid us?”

Covenant's reply was blunt. “Not if I can help it.” If he had heeded the venom coursing in him, the itch of his scarred forearm, he would already have gone out to meet the arghuleh alone. “But my friends aren't exactly useless.” And I don't intend to watch you die for nothing.

He knew he had no right to make such promises. The meaning of Hamako's life, of the lives of the gathered Waynhim, was not his to preserve or sacrifice. But he was who he was. How could he refuse to aid the people who needed him?

Scowling at unresolved contradictions, he studied the creatures. With their eyeless faces, gaping nostrils, and limbs made for running on all fours, they looked more like beasts or monsters than members of a noble race that had given its entire history to the service of the Land. But long ago one of them had been indirectly responsible for his second summons to the Land. Savagely maimed and in hideous pain, that Waynhim had been released from the Despiser's clutches to bait a trap. It had reached the Lords and told them that Lord Foul's armies were ready to march. Therefore High Lord Elena had made the decision to call Covenant. Thus the Despiser had arranged for Covenant's return. And the logic of that return had led ineluctably to Elena's end, the breaking of the Law of Death, and the destruction of the Staff of Law.

Now the last of the Waynhim people stood on the verge of ruin.

A long time passed before Covenant was able to sleep. He saw all too clearly what Lord Foul might hope to gain from the plight of the Waynhim.

But when his grasp on consciousness frayed away, the vitrim he had consumed carried him into deep rest; and he slept until the activity around him became constant and exigent. Raising his bead, he found that the cavern was full of Waynhim-at least twice as many as he had seen earlier. The bleary look in Linden's face showed that she had just awakened; but the four Giants were up and moving tensely among the Waynhim.