The One Tree

way they could make it valueless to the storm, not worth sinking. But the Giants around her tensed expectantly; and the First barked, “Hold ready! We must be prepared to labour for our lives!”

The intensity of the pounding-fury desperate as bereavement-led Linden's attention to the midmast. The stone had begun to scream like a tortured man. The yards trembled at every blow. Then she understood. Honninscrave was attacking the butt of the mast. He wanted to break it free, drop it overboard, in order to shift the balance of the dromond. Every blow strove to break the moorings which held the mast.

Linden bruised Covenant's arm with her apprehension. The Master could not succeed. He did not have enough time. Under her, the Giantship leaned palpably toward its death. That fall was only heartbeats away.

But Honninscrave and his Giants struck and struck as if they were repudiating an unbearable doom. Another shriek sprang from the stone-a cry of protest louder than the gale.

With a hideous screech of rent and splintered granite, the mast started to topple.

It sounded like the death throes of a mountain as it rove its moorings. Below it, the roof of the housing crumpled. The falling mast crashed through the side of the Giantship. Shatterings staggered the dromond to its keel, sent massive tremors kicking through the vessel from prow to stern. Shared agony yammered in Linden's bones. She thought that she was screaming, but could not hear herself.

Then the cacophony of breakage dropped below the level of the wind. The mast struck the sea like a pantomime of ruin, and the splash wet all the decks and the watchers soundlessly, as if they were deaf with sorrow.

From the shattered depths of the dromond, Honninscrave's outcry rose over the water that poured thunderously through the breach left by the mast.

And like his cry Starfare's Gem lifted.

The immense weight of the keel pulled against the inrushing sea. Slowly, ponderously, the Giantship began to right itself.

Even then, it might have died. It had shipped far more water than the pumps could handle; and the gap in its side gaped like an open wound, admitting more water at every moment.

But Sevinhand and Galewrath were ready. The Anchor-master instantly sent his Giants up the foremast to unfurl the lowest sail. And as the wind clawed at the canvas, tried to tear it away or use it to thrust the vessel down again, Galewrath spun Shipsheartthew, digging the rudder into the furious sea.

There Starfare's Gem was saved. That one sail and the rudder were enough: they turned the dromond's stern to the wind. Running before the blast, the Giantship was able to stand upright, lifting its breached side out of the water.

For a time, the vessel was barely manageable, too heavily freighted with water. At every moment, its one sail was in danger of being shredded. But Sevinhand protected that sail with all the cunning of his sea-craft, all the valour of his crew. And the Giants at the pumps worked like titans. Their efforts kept the ship afloat until Honninscrave had cleared access to the port pumps. Then their progress improved. As the dromond was lightened, the strain on its canvas eased; and Sevinhand was able to raise another sail. Alive in spite of its wounds, Starfare's Gem limped before the gale into the clear south.

Thirteen: Bhrathairain Harbour

THE gale diminished slowly. It did not fray out to the level of normal winds for two more days. During that time, Starfare's Gem had no choice but to run straight before the blast. It could not turn even slightly westward without listing to port; and that would have lowered the breach into the water. The Giants already had more than enough work to do without also being required to pump for their lives. Whenever the seas became heavy enough to slosh into the gap, Honninscrave was forced to shift his course a few points eastward so that Starfare's Gem leaned to starboard, protecting its injury,

He did not try to raise more canvas. Those two lone sails in that exigent wind required the constant attention of several Giants. More would have kept too many of the crew from the manifold other tasks which demanded their time.

The rigging needed a great deal of attention; but that was the least of the dromond's problems. The havoc of the under-decks presented a much larger difficulty. The felling of the midmast had left chaos in its wake. And the day which Starfare's Gem had spent on its side had had other consequences as well. The contents of the holds were tumbled and confused or broken. Huge quantities of stores had been ruined by salt water. Also, the sea had done severe damage to parts of the ship-the port cabins and supply-lockers, for example-which had not been designed to be submerged or overturned. Though the Giants worked hugely, they were not able to make the galley utile again until late afternoon; and the night was half gone before any of the port cabins had been rendered habitable.

But hot food gave some ease to Linden's abraded nerves; and Brinn was at last able to take Covenant down to his own chamber. Finally, she allowed herself to think of rest. Since her cabin lay to starboard, it had suffered only slight harm. With Cail's unasked aid, she soon set the table, chairs, and stepladder to rights. Then she climbed into her hammock and let the frustrated whine of the gale sweep her away from consciousness.

While the wind lasted, she did little but recuperate. She left her cabin periodically to check on Covenant, or to help Heft Galewrath tend the crew's injuries. And once she went forward with the idea of confronting Findail: she wanted to demand an explanation for his refusal to aid her or the Giantship. But when she saw him standing alone in the prow as if his people had Appointed him to be a pariah, she found that she lacked the will to contest him for answers. She was weary in every muscle and ligature. Any information she might conceivably wrest from him could wait. Dumbly, she returned to her cabin as if it were full of sleep.

She was sensitive to the restless labour of the crew; but she had neither the strength nor the skill to share their tasks. Still their exertions touched her more and more as she recovered from the strain of the storm. And eventually she felt the end of the gale approaching across the deeps. No longer able to sleep, she began to look for some chore with which she could occupy her mind, restore the meaning of her hands.

Seeing her tension, Seadreamer mutely took her and Cail below to one of the grainholds which was still clogged with a thick slush of seawater and ruined maize. She spent most of the day working there with him in a companionable silence. He with a shovel, she and Cail with dippers from the galley, they scooped the slush into a large vat which he took away at intervals to empty. The Giantish dipper was as large as a bucket in her hands, and somewhat unwieldy; but she welcomed the job and the effort. Once on Haven Farm she had laboured at a similar task to steady the clenched unease of her spirit.

From time to time, she bent her observation on Seadreamer. He seemed to appreciate her company, as if his Earth-Sight found a kind of companionship in her health-sense. And in other ways he appeared to have reached a point of calm. He conveyed the impression that his distress had been reduced to bearable dimensions, not by any change in his vision, but by the simple fact that Starfare's Gem was not travelling toward the One Tree. She did not have the heart to trouble him with questions he could not answer without an arduous and chancy effort of communication. But still he looked to her like a man who had seen his doom at the site of the One Tree.

Clearly something had changed for him in Elemesnedene, either in his examination or in the loss of the brief hope Honninscrave had given him. Perhaps his vision had shifted from the Sunbane to a new or different danger. And perhaps — The thought tightened her stomach. Perhaps he had seen beyond the Sunbane into Lord Foul's deeper intent. A purpose which would be fulfilled in the quest for the One Tree.

But she did not know how to tackle such issues. They were too personal. As she worked, a pang of yearning for Covenant went through her. She met it by turning her thoughts once again to the nature of his plight. In memory, she re-explored the unaneled cerements which enclosed his mind, sought the knot which would unbind them. But the only conclusion she reached was that her last attempt to enter him had been wrong in more ways than one-wrong because it had violated him, and wrong because of the rage and hunger which had impelled her.