The One Tree

exquisitely inappropriate to the sun and the heat. But the gaddhi paid no attention to their obvious beauty; he concentrated °n his guests. In one hand, he held an ebony chain from which dangled a large medallion shaped to represent a black sun. He used it to emphasize the munificence of his gestures as he performed.

“Behold the Great Desert!” He faced the waste as if it were his to display. 'Is it not a sight? Under such a sun the true tint is revealed-a hue stretching as far as the Bhrathair have ever journeyed, though the tale is told that in the far south the desert becomes a wonderland of every colour the eye may conceive.“ His arm flipped the medallion in arcs about him. ”No people but the Bhrathair have ever wrested bare life from such a grand and ungiving land. But we have done more.

“The Sandhold you have seen. Our wealth exceeds that of monarchs who rule lush demesnes. But now for the first time” — his voice tightened in expectation-“you behold Sandgorgons Doom. Not elsewhere in all the Earth is such theurgy manifested.” In spite of herself, Linden looked where the gaddhi directed her gaze. The hot sand made the bones of her forehead ache as if the danger were just beginning; but that distant violence held her. “And no other people have so triumphed over such fell foes.” Her companions seemed transfixed by the roiling thunder. Even the Haruchai stared at it as if they sought to estimate themselves against it.

“The Sandgorgons.” Rant Absolain's excitement mounted. “You do not know them-but I tell you this. Granted time and freedom, one such creature might tear the Sandhold stone from stone. One! They are more fearsome than madness or nightmare. Yet there they are bound. Their lives they spend railing against the gyre of their Doom, while we thrive. Only at rare events does one of them gain release-and then but briefly.” The tension in his voice grew keener, whetted by every word. Linden wanted to turn away from the Doom, drag her companions back from the parapet. But she had no name for what dismayed her.

“For centuries, the Bhrathair lived only because the Sandgorgons did not slay them all. But now I am the gaddhi of Bhrathairealm and all the Great Desert, and they are mine!”

He ended his speech with a gesture of florid pride; and suddenly the ebony chain slipped from his fingers.

Sailing black across the sunlight and the pale sand, the chain and medallion arced over the parapet and fell near the base of the Sandwall. Sand puffed at the impact, settled again. The dark sun of the medallion lay like a stain on the clean earth.

The gaddhi's women gasped, surged to the edge to look downward. The Giants peered over the parapet.

Rant Absolain did not move. He hugged his arms around his chest to contain a secret emotion.

Reacting like a good courtier, Rire Grist said quickly, “Fear nothing, O gaddhi. It will shortly be restored to you. I will send my aide to retrieve it.”

The soldier with him started back toward the stairs, clearly intending to reach one of the outer gates and return along the base of the Sandwall to pick up the medallion.

But the gaddhi did not look at the Caitiffin. “I want it now,” he snapped with petulant authority. “Fetch rope.”

At once, two Guards left the top of the wall, descended to the banquette, then entered the wall through the nearest opening.

Tautly, Linden searched for some clue to the peril. It thickened in the air at every moment. But the gaddhi's attitude was not explicit enough to betray his intent. Rire Grist's careful poise showed that he was playing his part in a charade-but she had already been convinced of that. Of the women, only the two Favoured exposed any knowledge of the secret. The Lady Benj's mien was hard with concealment. And the Lady Alif flicked covert glances of warning toward the company.

Then the hustin returned, bearing a heavy coil of rope. Without delay, they lashed one end to the parapet and threw the other snaking down the outer face of the Sandwall. It was just long enough to reach the sand.

For a moment, no one moved. The gaddhi was still. Honninscrave and Seadreamer were balanced beside the First, Vain appeared characteristically immune to the danger crouching on the wall; but Findail's eyes shifted as if he saw too much. The Haruchai had taken the best defensive positions available among the Guards.

For no apparent reason, Covenant said, “Don't touch me.”

Abruptly, Rant Absolain swung toward the company. Heat intensified his gaze.

“You.” His voice stretched and cracked under the strain. His right arm jerked outward, stabbing his rigid index finger straight at Hergrom. “I require my emblem.”

The gathering clenched. Some of the women bit their lips. The Lady Alif's hands opened, closed, opened again. Hergrom's face betrayed no reaction; but the eyes of all the Haruchai scanned the group, watching everything.

Linden struggled to speak. The pressure knotted her chest, but she winced out, “Hergrom, you don't have to do that.”

The First's fingers were claws at her sides. “The Haruchai are our comrades. We will not permit it.”

The gaddhi snapped something in the brackish tongue of the Bhrathair, Instantly, the hustin brought their spears to bear. In such close quarters, even the swiftness of the

Haruchai could not have protected their comrades from injury or death.

“It is my right!” Rant Absolain spat up at the First. “I am the gaddhi of Bhrathairealm! The punishment of offense is my duty and my right!”

“No!” Linden sensed razor-sharp iron less than a foot from the centre of her back. But in her fear for Hergrom she ignored it, “It was Kasreyn's fault. Hergrom was just trying to save Covenant's life.” She aimed her urgency at the Haruchai. “You don't have to do this.”

The dispassion of Hergrom's visage was complete. His detachment as he measured the Guards defined the company's peril more eloquently than any outcry. For a moment, he and Brinn shared a look. Then he turned to Linden.

“Chosen, we desire to meet this punishment, that we may see it ended.” His tone expressed nothing except an entire belief in his own competence-the same self-trust which had led the Bloodguard to defy death and time in the service of the Lords.

The sight clogged Linden's throat. Before she could swallow her dismay, her culpability, try to argue with him, Hergrom leaped up onto the parapet. Three strides took him to the rope.

Without a word to his companions, he gripped the line and dropped over the edge.

The First's eyes glazed at the extremity of her restraint. But three spears were levelled at her; and Honninscrave and Seadreamer were similarly caught.

Brinn nodded fractionally. Too swiftly for the reflexes of the Guards, Ceer slipped through the crowd, sprang to the parapet. In an instant, he had followed Hergrom down the rope.

Rant Absolain barked a curse and hastened forward to watch the Haruchai descend. For a moment, his fists beat anger against the stone. But then he recollected himself, and his indignation faded.

The spears did not let Linden or her companions move.

The gaddhi issued another command. It drew a flare of fury from the Swordmain's eyes, drove Honninscrave and Seadreamer to the fringes of their self-control.

In response, a Guard unmoored the rope. It fell heavily onto the shoulders of Hergrom and Ceer.

Rant Absolain threw a fierce grin at the company, then turned his attention back to the Haruchai on the ground.

“Now, slayer!” he cried in a shrill shout. “I require you to speak!”

Linden did not know what he meant. But her nerves yammered at the cruelty he emanated. With a wrench, she ducked under the spear at her back, surged toward the parapet. As her head passed the edge, her vision