The One Tree

Nine: The Gift of the Forestal

THE next moment, Linden reached Covenant so hard that he staggered several steps down the slope. Catching hold of his shirt, she jerked at him with all her strength. “Don't do it!”

He fought to regain his balance. His eyes burned like precursors of wild magic. “What's the matter with you?” he barked. “We have to know where it is.”

“Not that way!” She did not have enough strength, could not find enough force for her voice or her muscles. She wanted to coerce him physically; but even her passion was not enough. “You don't have to do that! They can just tell you! They already know where it is.”

Roughly, he took hold of her wrists, wrenched himself out of her grip. The rising of venom and power in him made his grasp irrefusable. He held her wrists together near the cut in his shirt, and she could not break free. “I believe you.” His glare was extreme. “These people probably know everything. But they aren't going to tell us. What do you want me to do? Beg until they change their minds?”

“Covenant.” She raged and pleaded simultaneously. “I can hear what they're saying to each other.” The words tumbled out of her. “They've got some secret purpose. Foul got here ahead of us. Don't let them possess you!”

That pierced him. He did not release her wrists; but his grip loosened as he jerked up his head to look at Infelice.

“Is this true?”

Infelice did not appear to be offended. Repeatedly, she tolerated Linden. “The Sun-Sage suggests that the Despiser has come upon us and bent us to his own ends. That is untrue. But that we have also our own purpose in this matter-that is true.”

“Then,” he gritted, “tell me where the One Tree is.”

“It is not our custom to grant unnecessary gifts.” Her tone refused all contradiction, all suasion. 'For reasons which appear good to us, we have made our choice. We are the Elohim, and our choices He beyond your judgment. You have asked me to unlock the knowledge occulted within you. That gift I am willing to give-that and no other. You may accept or decline, according to the dictates of your doubt.

“If you desire another answer, seek it elsewhere. Inquire of the Sun-Sage why she does not enter your mind to gain this knowledge. The way is open to her.”

Linden recoiled. Enter-? Memories of Covenant's last relapse flared through her. Suppressed dark hunger leaped up in her. Surely to have him from what the Elohim intended-! But she had nearly cost him his life. Peril came crowding around her. It flushed like shame across her skin. The contradiction threatened to trap her. This was why she had been chosen, why Gibbon had touched her. Twisting out of Covenant's slackened grasp, she confronted Infelice and spat out the only answer she had-the only reply which enabled her to hold back the hunger.

“Possession is evil”

Was it true after all that the Elohim were evil?

Infelice cocked an eyebrow in disdain, but did not reply.

“Linden.” Covenant's voice was gripped like a bit between his teeth. His hands reached out to her, turned her to face him again. “I don't care whether we can trust them or not. We have got to know where the One Tree is. If they have something else in mind-” He grimaced acidly. “They think I don't count. How much of that do you think I can stand? After what I've been through?” His tone said clearly that he could not stand it at all. “I saved the Land once, and I'll do it again. They are not going to take that away from me.”

As she recognized his emotions, she went numb inside. Too much of his anger was directed at her-at the idea that she was the Sun-Sage, that he was to be blamed for affirming himself. The bells were within her range now, but she hardly listened to them. It was happening again, everything was happening again, there was nothing she could do, it would always happen. She was as useless to him as she had been to either of her parents. And she was going to lose him. She could not even say to him, I don't have the power. Don't you understand that the reason I won't go into you is to protect you? Instead, she let the frozen place in her heart speak.

“You're just doing this because you feel insulted. It's like your leprosy. You think you can get even by sacrificing yourself. The universal victim.” You never loved me anyway. “It's the only way you know how to live.”

She saw that she had hurt him-and that the pain made no difference. The more she reviled him, the more adamant he became. The hot mute glare with which he answered her rendered him untouchable. In his own terms, he had no choice. How could he rise above his plight, except by meeting it squarely and risking himself against it? When he turned his back on her to accept Infelice's offer, she did not try to stop him. Her numbness might as well have been grief.

“Covenant Giantfriend,” the First demanded. “Be wary of what you do. I have given the Search into your hands. It must not be lost.”

He ignored her. Facing Infelice, he muttered in a brittle voice, “I'm ready. Let's get on with it.”

A bell rang across the eftmound-a clamour of appeal or protest. Now Linden was able to identify its source. It came from Findail.

— Infelice, consider! It is my life you hazard. If this path fails, I must bear the cost. Is there no other way?

And once again Infelice surprised Linden. “Sun-Sage,” the Elohim said as if she were denying herself, “what is your word? In your name, I will refuse him if you wish it.” Covenant hissed like a curse; but Infelice was not done discounting him. She went on inflexibly, “However, the onus will be upon your head. You must make promise that you will take his ring from him ere he brings the Earth to ruin-that you will make ring-wielder and Sun-Sage one in yourself.” Covenant radiated a desperate outrage which Infelice did not deign to notice. “If you will not bind yourself to that promise, I must meet his request.”

Stiffly, Findail chimed:

— Infelice, I thank you.

But Linden had no way of knowing what Findail meant. She was reeling inwardly at the import of Infelice's proposal. This was a more insidious temptation than possession: it offered her power without exposing her to the threat of darkness. To accept responsibility for him? No, more than that: to accept responsibility for the whole quest, for the survival of the Earth and the defeat of Lord Foul. Here was her chance to protect Covenant from himself-to spare him in the same way he had so often striven to spare her.

But then she saw the hidden snare. If she accepted, the quest would have no way to find the One Tree. Unless she did what she had just refused to do-unless she violated him to pry out Caer-Caveral's secret knowledge. Everything came back to that. The strength of her buried yearning for that kind of power made her feel sick. But she had already rejected it, had spent her life rejecting it.

She shook her head. Dully, she said, “I can't tell him what to do”-and tried to believe that she was affirming something, asserting herself and him against temptation. But every word she spoke sounded like another denial. The thought of his peril wrung her heart. “Let him make his own decisions.”

Then she had to wrap her arms around her chest to protect herself against the force of Covenant's relief, Findail's clanging dismay, the apprehension of her friends-and against Infelice's eager radiance.

Come,“ the diamond-clad Elohim said at once, ”Let us begin.'

And her inner voice added:

— Let him be taken by the silence, as we have purposed.

Involuntarily, Linden turned, saw Covenant and Infelice focused on each other as if they were transfixed. She wore her gleaming like the outward sign of a cunning victory. And he stood with his shoulders squared and his head raised, braced on the crux of his circinate doom. If he had paused to smile, Linden would have screamed.

With a slow flourish of her raiment like a billowing of jewels, Infelice descended from the hillcrest. Her power became her as if she had been born for it. Flowing like the grateful breeze of evening, she moved to stand before Covenant.

When she placed her hand on his forehead, the silent air of the eftmound was shredded with anguish.