The One Tree

Then she noticed the golden band clasped around Covenant's neck.

She was unable to read it, did not understand it. But at once she was intuitively certain that it explained what had happened to him. It was Kasreyn's hold on him; and it blocked her senses as if it had been specifically designed for that purpose. To prevent her from reaching into him?

Oh, Kasreyn, you bastard!

But she had no time to think. The Guards had set their torches on either side of the door, and Rant Absolain advanced between them to confront the quest.

With a fierce effort, Linden forced her attention away from Covenant. When she looked at the gaddhi, she saw that he was feverishly drunk. Purple splashes sotted his raiment; his orbs were raw with inebriation and dread.

He was staring at Honninscrave. The Giant's relentless fury for escape appalled him. Slowly, rhythmically, Honninscrave knotted his muscles, hurled himself against the chains, and did not stop. From manacle to elbow, his arms were lined with thin trails of blood.

Quickly, Linden took advantage of Rant Absolain's transfixion to scan her companions.

In spite of his impassivity, Ceer's pallor revealed the extent of his pain. His bandages were soaked with the red of a reopened wound. Pitchwife's injury was less serious; but it left a livid swelling on his right temple.

Then Linden found herself gaping at the First. She had lost both shield and helm; but in her scabbard hung her new falchion. Its grip was just beyond the reach of her chained hands. It must have been restored to her to taunt her helplessness. Or to mock Rant Absolain? Did Kasreyn mean to task the gaddhi for that ill-considered gift?

But the First bore herself as if she were impervious to such malice. While Rant Absolain stared his alarm at Honninscrave, she said distinctly, “O gaddhi, it is not wise to speak in the presence of these hustin. Their ears are Kasreyn's ears, and he will learn the purpose of your coming.”

Her words pierced his stupefied apprehension. He looked away, staggered for balance, then shouted a dismissal in the Bhrathair tongue. The two Guards obeyed, leaving the door open as they departed.

Honninscrave fixed his gaze on that egress as he fought to break his fetters.

As soon as the Guards were gone, Rant Absolain fumbled forward as if the light were dim. For a moment, he tried to peer up at the First; but her height threatened his stability. He swung toward Linden, advanced on her until he was so close that she could not avoid breathing the miasma of his besottedness.

Squinting into her face, he hissed urgently, secretively, “Free me from this Kemper.”

Linden fought down her revulsion and pity, held her voice level. “Get rid of him yourself. He's your Kemper. All you have to do is exile him.”

He winced. His hands plucked at her shoulders as if he wanted to plead with her-or needed her help to keep from falling. “No,” he whispered. “It is impossible. I am only the gaddhi. He is Kasreyn of the Gyre. The power is his. The Guards are his. And the Sandgorgons-” He was shivering. “All Bhrathairealm knows-” He faltered, then resumed, Prosperity and wealth are his to give. Not mine. My people care nothing for me.“ He became momentarily lugubrious. But then his purpose returned to him. ”Slay him for me.“ When she did not reply at once, he panted, ”You must.'

An odd pang for his folly and weakness touched her heart.

But she did not let herself waver. “Free us,” she said as severely as she could. “We'll find a way to get rid of him.”

“Free-?” He gaped at her. “I dare not. He will know. If you fail-” His eyes were full of beggary. “You must free yourselves. And slay him. Then I will be safe.” His lips twisted on the verge of sobs. “I must be safe.”

At that moment, with her companions watching her, Linden heard footsteps in the corridor and knew that she had a chance to drive another nail into his coffin. Perhaps it would have been the final nail. She did not doubt who was coming. But she had mercy on him. Probably he could never have been other than he was.

Raising her voice, she said distinctly, “We're your prisoners. It's cruel to mock us like this.”

Then Kasreyn stood in the doorway. From that elevation, he appeared commanding and indefeasible, certain of his mastery. His voice caressed the air like the soft stroke of a whip, playful and threatening. “She speaks truly, O gaddhi. You demean yourself here. They have slain your Guards, giving offense to you and all Bhrathairealm. Do not cheapen the honour of your countenance with them. Depart, I bid you.”

Rant Absolain staggered. His face stretched as if he were about to wail. But behind his drunkenness some instinct for self-preservation still functioned. With an exaggerated lurch, he turned toward the Kemper. Slurring his words, he said, “I desired to vent my wrath. It is my right.” Then he shambled to the stairs and worked his way up them, leaving the cell without a glance at either Kasreyn or the questers. In that way, he preserved the illusion which was his sole hope for survival.

Linden watched him go and clinched herself. Toward Kasreyn of the Gyre she felt no mercy at all.

The Kemper bowed unkindly to his gaddhi, then stepped into the cell, closed the iron door. As he came down the stairs, the intensity of his visage was focused on Linden; and the yellowness of his robe and his teeth seemed to concentrate toward her like a presage of his geas.

She made a resolute effort of self-command, looked to verify what she had seen earlier. It was true: like Covenant, the Kemper's infant was visible to her superficial sight but not to her deeper perceptions.

“My friends,” Kasreyn said, addressing all the company but gazing only at Linden, “I will not delay. I am eager.” Rheum

glazed his eyes like cataracts. “Aye, eager.” He stepped over Covenant to stand before her. “You have foiled me as you were able, but now you are ended.” Spittle reflected a glode of light at one corner of his mouth. “Now I will have the white gold.”

She stared back at him direly. Her companions stood still, studying her and the Kemper-all except Honninscrave, who did not interrupt his exertions even for Kasreyn of the Gyre.

“I do not maze you.” His tongue quickly licked his lips. “Well, it may not be denied that to some degree I have slighted your true measure. But no more.” He retreated slightly to her left. “Linden Avery, you will grant the white gold to me.”

Clenching herself rigid-awaiting her opportunity-Linden rasped mordantly, “You're crazy.”

He cocked an eyebrow like a gesture of scorn. “Am I, indeed? Harken — and consider. I desire this Thomas Covenant to submit his ring into my hand. Such submission must be a matter of choice, and there is a veil in his mind which inures him to all choice. Therefore this veil must be pierced, that I may wrest the choice I desire from him.” Abruptly, he stabbed a bony finger at Linden. “You will pierce it for me.”

At that, her heart leaped. But she strove to conceal her tension, did not let her angry glare waver. Articulating each word precisely, she uttered an obscene refusal.

His eyes softened like an anticipation of lust. Quietly, he asked, “Do you deny me?”

She remained silent as if she did not deign to reply. Only the regular gasp and clatter of Honninscrave's efforts denned the stillness. She almost hoped that Kasreyn would use his ocular on her. She felt certain that she would be unable to enter Covenant at all if she were in the grip of the Kemper's geas.

But he appeared to understand the folly of coercing her with theurgy. Without warning, he whirled, lashed a vicious kick at Ceer's bloody knee.

The unexpected blow wrung pain through Ceer's teeth. For a moment, his ambience faded as if he were about to faint.

The First sprang against her manacles. Seadreamer tried to swipe at Kasreyn, but could not reach him.

The Kemper faced Linden again. His voice was softer than before. “Do you deny me?”

Tremors built toward shuddering in her. She let them rise, let herself ache so that she might convince him. “If I let you persuade me like that, Brinn and Cail will kill me.”

Deep within herself, she begged him to believe her. Another such blow would break her. How could she go on spending Ceer's agony to prevent the Kemper from guessing her intent?

“They will not live to lift finger against you!” barked Kasreyn in sudden anger. But a moment later he