Land were taught much by their loss of Home. I am humbled before them.”
For a moment Covenant could not respond. But then a memory came back to him-a recollection of the formal salutation that the people of Revelstone had formerly given to the Giants.
“Giant troth Revelstone, ancient ward—
Heart and door of Earthfriend's main:
Preserve the true with Power's sword,
Thou ages-Keeper, mountain-reign.”
At that, the First turned toward him; and for an instant her face was concentrated with weeping as if he had touched her deep Giantish love of stone. Almost immediately she recovered her sternness-but not before he had seen how absolutely she was ready now to serve him. Gruffly, she said, “Thomas Covenant, I have titled you Giantfriend, but it is not enough. You are the Earthfriend. No other name suffices.” Then she went and put her arms around her husband.
But Covenant groaned to himself, Earthfriend. God help me! That title belonged to Berek Halfhand, who had fashioned the Staff of Law and founded the Council of Lords. It did not become a man who carried the destruction of the Arch of Time in his envenomed hands. The man who had brought to ruin all Berek's accomplishments.
He glared back up at the Keep. The sun had begun to set behind the Westron Mountains, and its light in his eyes Harnpered his sight; but he discerned no sign that the watchtower was occupied. He had received the same impression the last time he had been here-and had distrusted it then as he did now. Though the outer gates were broken, the tower could still serve as a vital part of the Keep's defences. He would have to be prepared for battle the moment he set foot in that tunnel. If the Clave did not seek to attack him before then.
His shoulders hunching like anticipations of brutality, he turned away from the Keep and retreated a short distance into the vegetation to an area of rocks where the company could camp for the night.
Shortly, his companions gathered around him. The Giants left their delighted study of Revelstone to clear the ground, start a fire, and prepare food. Sunder and Hollian cast repeated glances like wincing toward the Keep, where the ill of then lives had its centre, and where they had once nearly been slain; but they sat with Covenant as if he were a source of courage. The
Linden's disquiet was palpable. Vexation creased her brows; her gaze searched the twilight warily Covenant guessed that she was feeling the nearness of the Raver; and he did not know how to comfort her. During all the Land's struggles against Despite, no one had ever found a way to slay a Raver. While Lord Foul endured, his servants clung to life. The Forestal of Garroting Deep, Caer-Caveral’s creator and former master, had demonstrated that Herem or Sheol or Jehannum might be sorely hurt or reduced if the bodies they occupied were killed and they were not allowed to flee. But only the body died; the Raver's spirit survived Covenant could not believe that the Land would ever be free of Gibbon's possessor. And he did not know what else to offer that might ease Linden.
But then she named the immediate cause of her unease; and it was not the na-Mhoram. Turning to Covenant, she said unexpectedly, “Vain's gone.”
Taken aback, he blinked at her for a moment. Then he surged to his feet, scanned the camp and the surrounding jungle.
The Demondim-spawn was nowhere in sight.
Covenant wheeled toward Cail. Flatly, the Haruchai said, “He has halted a stone's throw distant.” He nodded back the way the company had come. “At intervals we have watched him, but he does not move. Is it your wish that he should be warded?”
Covenant shook his head, groping for comprehension. When he and Vain had approached Revelstone looking for Linden, Sunder, and Hollian, the Clave had tried to keep Vain out and had hurt him in the process. Yet he had contrived his way into the Keep, found the heels of the Staff of Law. But after that he had obeyed the Riders as if he feared what they could do to him. Was that it? Having obtained what he wanted from Revelstone, he now kept his distance so that the Clave would not be able to damage him again?
But how was it possible that the Demondim-spawn could be harmed at all, when the Sunbane did not affect him and even
“It's because of what he is,” Linden murmured as though Covenant's question were tangible in the air. They had discussed the matter at other times; and she had suggested that perhaps the Clave knew more about Vain than the company did. But now she had a different answer. “He's a being of pure structure. Nothing but structure-like a skeleton without any muscle or blood or life. Rigidness personified. Anything that isn't focused straight at him can't touch him.” Slowly, as if she were unconscious of what she was doing, she turned toward Revelstone, lifted her face to the lightless Keep. “But that's what the Sunbane does. What the Clave does. They corrupt Law-disrupt structure. Desecrate order. If they tried hard enough”- she was glowering as if she could see Gibbon waiting in his malice and his glee- “they could take him apart completely, and there wouldn't be enough of him left to so much as remember why he was made in the first place. No wonder he doesn't want to come any closer.”
Covenant held his breath, hoping that she would go on-that in this mood of perception or prophecy she would name the purpose for which Vain had been created. But she did not.
By degrees, she lowered her gaze. “Damn that bastard anyway,” she muttered softly. “Damn him to hell.”
He echoed her in silence. Vain was such an enigma that Covenant continually forgot him-forgot how vital he was, to the hidden machinations of the
“Don't bother. He'll take care of himself. He always has.”
Then he went sourly back to his seat near the fire.
The companions remained still as they ate supper, chewing their separate thoughts with their food. But when they were done, the First faced Covenant across the smoking blaze and made a gesture of readiness. “Now, Earthfriend.” Her tone reminded him of a polished blade, eager for use. “Let us speak of this proud and dire Keep.”
Covenant met her gaze and grimaced in an effort to hold his personal extremity beyond the range of Linden's percipience.
“It is a doughty work,” the First said firmly. “In it the Unhomed wrought surpassingly well. Its gates have been broken by a puissance that challenges conception-but if I have not been misled, there are gates again beyond the tower. And surely you have seen that the walls will not be scaled. We would be slain in the attempt. The Clave is potent, and we are few. Earthfriend,” she concluded as if she were prepared to trust whatever explanation he gave, “how do you purpose to assail this donjon?”
In response, he scowled grimly. He had been expecting that question-and dreading it. If he tried to answer it as if he were sane, his resolve might snap like a rotten bone. His friends would be appalled. And perhaps they would try to stop him. Even if they did not, he felt as certain as death that their dismay would be too much for him.
Yet some reply was required of him. Too many lives depended on what he meant to do. Stalling for courage, he looked toward Hollian. His voice caught in his throat as he asked, 'What kind of sun are we going to have tomorrow?”
Dark hair framed her mien, and her face itself was smudged with the dirt of long travel; yet by some trick of the firelight-or of her nature-she appeared impossibly clear, her countenance unmuddied by doubt or despair. Her movements were deft and untroubled as she accepted the
After a moment, fire bloomed from her wand. Its colour was the dusty hue of the desert sun.
Covenant nodded to himself. A desert sun. By chance or design, he had been granted the phase of the Sunbane he would have chosen for his purpose. On the strength of that small grace, he was able to face the First again.
