The One Tree

“You can fight the Despiser for us.”

Her demand stunned the Giants into silence. Covenant swore softly as if he had never conceived of such a request. But her moiling passion would not let her halt.

Infelice had not moved. She, too, seemed taken aback.

“You sit here in your clachan,” Linden went on, choosing words like items of accusation, 'letting time go by as if no evil or danger in all the world has any claim on your hieratic self- contemplation, when you could be doing something! You're Earthpower! You're all made out of Earthpower. You could stop the Sunbane-restore the Law-defeat Lord Foul-just by making the effort!

“Look at you!” she insisted. “You stand up there so you can be sure of looking down on us. And maybe you've got the right. Maybe Earthpower incarnate is so powerful we just naturally seem puny and pointless to you. But we're trying!” Honninscrave and Seadreamer had been hurt. Covenant had been denied. The whole quest was being betrayed. She flung out her sentences like jerrids, trying to strike some point of vulnerability or conscience in Infelice. “Foul is trying to destroy the Land. And if he succeeds, he won't stop there. He wants the whole Earth. Right now, his only enemies are puny, pointless mortals like us. In the name of simple shame if nothing else, you should be willing to stop him!”

As she ran out of words, lurched into silence, voices rose around the eftmound-expostulations of anger, concern, displeasure. Among them, Chant's shout stood out stridently. “Infelice, this is intolerable!”

“No!” Infelice shot back. Her denial stopped the protests of the Elohim, “She is the Sun-Sage, and I will tolerate her!”

This unexpected response cut the ground from under Linden. She wavered inwardly; surprise daunted her ire. The constant adumbration of the bells weakened her. She was barely able to hold Infelice's gaze as the tall Elohim spoke.

“Sun-Sage,” she said with a note like sorrow or regret in her voice, “this thing which you name Earthpower is our Wurd.” Like Daphin, she blurred the sound so that it could have been either Wyrd or Word, 'You believe it to be a thing of suzerain might. In sooth, your belief is just. But have you come so far across the Earth without comprehending the helplessness of Power? We are what we are- and what we are not, we can never become. He whom you name the Despiser is a being of another kind entirely. We are effectless against him. That is our Wurd.

“And also,” she added as an afterthought, “Elemesnedene is our centre, as it is the centre of the Earth. Beyond its bounds we do not care to go.”

Linden wanted to cry out, You're lying! The protest was hot in her, burning to be shouted. But Covenant had come to her side. His half-hand gripped her shoulder like talons, digging inward as if to control her physically.

“She's telling the truth.” He spoke to her; but he was facing Infelice as if at last he had found the path of his purpose. Linden felt from him an anger to match her own-an anger that made him as rigid as bone, 'Earthpower is not the answer to Despite. Or Kevin would never have been driven to the Ritual of Desecration. He was a master of Law and Earthpower, but it wasn't what he needed. He couldn't save the Land that way.

“That's why the Land needs us. Because of the wild magic. It conies from outside the Arch of Time. Like Foul. It can do things Earthpower can't.”

“Then it comes to this.” Honninscrave lifted his voice over Covenant's. The frank loss in his tone gave him a dignity to equal his stature; and he spoke as if he were passing judgment on the Elohim. 'In all parts of the Earth are told the legends of Elemesnedene. The Elohim are bespoken as a people of sovereign faery puissance and wonder, the highest and most treasurable of all wonders. Among the Giants these tales are told gladly and often, and those who have been granted the fortune of a welcome here account themselves blessed.

“But we have not been given the welcome of which the world speaks with such yearning. Nor have we been granted the gifts which the world needs for its endurance. Rather, we have been reft of the Haruchai our companions and demeaned in ourselves. And we have been misled in our asking of gifts. You offer giving with feoffment, but it is no boon, for it places refusal beyond appeal. Elemesnedene is sadly altered, and I have no wish to carry this tale to the world.”

Linden listened to him urgently. Covenant's attitude appalled her. Did he think that Chant's desire for his ring was gratuitous? Was he deaf to the bells?

One of them was saying:

— He speaks truly. We are altered from what we were. A darker answer knelled:

— No. It is only that these mortals are more arrogant than any other.

But the first replied:

— No. It is we who are more arrogant. In time past, would we not have taken this cost upon ourselves? Yet now we require the price of him, that we will be spared it.

At once, a third chime interposed:

— You forget that he himself is the peril. We have chosen the only path which offers hope to him as well as to the Earth. The price may yet befall the Appointed.

But still the Elohimfest went on as if there were no bells. Stiffly, Infelice said, “Grimmand Honninscrave, you have spoken freely. Now be silent.” However, his dignity was beyond the reach of her reproof. Directing her gaze at Linden, she asked, “Are you content?”

“Content?” Linden began. “Are you out of-?”

Covenant's grip stopped her. His fingers gouged her shoulder, demanding restraint. Before she could fight free of him, shout his folly into his face, he said to Infelice, “No. All this is secondary. It's not why we're here.” He sounded like he had found another way to sacrifice himself.

“Continue, ring-wielder,” said Infelice evenly. The light in her hair and apparel seemed ready for anything he might say.

“It's true that Earthpower is not the answer to Despite.” He spoke as incisively as ice. “But the Sunbane is another matter. That's a question of Earthpower. If it isn't stopped, it's going to eat the heart out of the Earth.”

He paused. Calmly, Infelice waited for him.

And Linden also waiting. Her distrust of the Elohim converged with an innominate dread. She was intuitively afraid of Covenant's intent.

“I want to make a new Staff of Law.” His voice was fraught with risks. “A way to fight back. That's why we're here. We need to find the One Tree.” Slowly, he unclenched Linden's shoulder, released her and stepped aside as if to detach his peril from her. “I want you to tell us where it is.”

At once, the bells rang insistently. One of them struck out:

— Infelice, do not. Our hope will be lost. The crystal answer came clearly from her:

— It is understood and agreed. I will not. But her eyes gave no hint of her other conversations. They met Covenant squarely, almost with relish. “Ring-wielder,” she said carefully, “you have no need of that knowledge. It has already been placed in your mind.”

With matching care, matching readiness, he replied, “That's true. Caer-Caveral gave it to me. He said, The knowledge is within you, though you cannot see it. But when the time has come, you will find the means to unlock my gift.' But I don't know how to get at it.”

The chiming grew hushed, like bated breath. But Linden had caught the import of the bells. This was the moment for which they had been waiting.

In a rush of comprehension, she tried to fling herself at Covenant. Words too swift for utterance cried through her: They already know where the Tree is, this is what they want, don't you understand, Foul got here ahead of us! But her movements were too slow, clogged by mortality. Her heart seemed frozen between beats; no breath expanded her lungs. She had barely turned toward him when he spoke as if he knew he was committing himself to disaster.

“I want you to unlock the knowledge for me. I want you to open my mind.”

At the top of the eftmound, Infelice smiled.