The Runes of the Earth

spring-like.

The malice which had harried her after the horserite had spent its force and faded from the clouds.

Apparently Esmer had accomplished his purpose-

Or he had seen that the Ranyhyn were too enduring to be daunted, and had decided to change his tactics.

Yet the rain continued steadily, soaking the Verge of Wandering until every step outside the shelters splashed water through the thick grass. From her place between her bed and the fire, Linden could not see the sky; but the hue of the air and the texture of the rainfall conveyed the impression that it might continue for days.

Facing her, the Ramen bowed deeply, as though she had earned their admiration. Stave did not join them, however. He remained behind his companions as if he had nothing to say to her.

Hami’s concern matched Liand’s; but Mahrtiir’s gaze caught gleams of eagerness from the firelight.

“Linden Avery,” Hami began gravely, “Ringthane and Chosen, we are pleased to see you so much recovered. You returned from the horserite in such straits that we feared for your life.” She scrutinised Linden narrowly, then added with a touch of asperity, “Yet you remain fevered. You must rest. Surely Liand has told you so. It is not well to expend yourself when you require sleep and healing.”

Linden felt Liand squirm. “She is the Chosen,” he said a bit defensively. “I have no Power over her.”

Again Linden shook her head, trying to stop Hami as she had interrupted Liand a few moments ago. “Don’t worry about me.” Her voice still croaked despite the soothing effects of aliantha, and her throat hurt as if she had howled for hours against the scourge of the storm. “I’m not as weak as I look.”

Before Hami could respond, she asked, “Where’s Esmer?”

The Manethrall frowned. “Ringthane, your need is plain, but it lies beyond our lore. We know not how you may be restored. That is our first concern. What is Esmer’s part in this?”

She and her companions wanted explanations which Linden did not know how to provide. Nevertheless she had to try.

“Would you get me some more aliantha?” she asked Liand: a husky whisper. “And a little amanibhavam? That’s really all I need.”

The Ramen had never shared a horserite. She did not know how to tell them that the potent waters of the tarn had preserved her from malevolence which might otherwise have slain her.

Liand hesitated for a moment: he may have looked to Hami for advice. But the Manethrall did not react, and after a moment, he referred Linden’s request to Pahni and Bhapa. Clearly he meant to stay at her side; to catch her if her endurance failed.

She wanted to thank him, and the Cords as well, but that could wait. Instead she faced Hami.

“That storm,” she said as firmly as she could. “It wasn’t natural. It had malice in it.”

Still frowning, Hami nodded. “Yet the desire for harm has passed. Only the rain remains.”

Beside the point. Linden persisted. “Has Esmer come back?”

Hami made a sound of vexation. Apparently she distrusted Linden’s insistence on Esmer. Yet she replied, “He returned while you slept. I will summon him, if you wish it.”

Linden shook her head. “When he came back,” she said through waves of fever, “the malice stopped. The desire for harm.”

Mahrtiir had told her, He wields a storm among the mountains.

Hami’s eyes widened. “And you conceive that the malice is his? That he raised ill against you in the storm?”

The idea visibly disturbed the Cords. Mahrtiir muttered a denial through his teeth.

Too fearful to say more, Linden clutched her frangible balance and waited for Hami’s response.

“Ringthane,” the Manethrall sighed, “you judge him harshly. That you have cause to do so is beyond question. In this, however, your mistrust misleads you.

“Throughout his absence from us, we kept watch over him. Ramen witnessed closely the nature of his distress-and of his power. It was not directed against you. Of this we are certain.”

Hami’s gaze urged Linden to give Esmer the benefit of the doubt. His acceptance by the Ranyhyn compelled the loyalty of the Ramen.

Abruptly Stave spoke. “Yet that which he invoked is evil.” His tone left no room for contradiction. “I have felt it. Even now it stalks the Verge of Wandering.

“The Ramen also have felt it,” he told Hami. “Why otherwise do you prepare to depart?”

Depart-? For the first time, Linden met the Master’s gaze. The Ramen were leaving?

She and Stave had returned from the horserite through a scourge of malevolence. Who had inspired the ferocity of those winds, if not Esmer?

“Chosen,” Stave informed her, “Esmer has summoned a darkness more dire than any storm. The Ramen must flee before it.”

With a snarl of anger, Hami rounded on him. “Have you no heart, Bloodguard? You know the severity of that which lies before her. Why then do you seek to hasten her away from rest?”

Involuntarily Linden sagged against Liand. Summoned-? Esmer, what have you done?

At once, Hami turned back to her. “It is for your sake.” The woman’s tone pleaded on Esmer’s behalf. “He seeks to aid you.”

“He has done well,” Mahrtiir put in harshly. “She has named her purpose. He serves her as the Ramen cannot. Nor could the sleepless ones perform what he has accomplished.”

Stave’s voice cut through the responses of the Manethralls. “Assuredly rest would speed the Chosen’s healing.” He sounded unexpectedly vehement. “Where may she do so? Here? In the path of ruin? She cannot. To think otherwise is folly. If she will not flee, as the Ramen must, then she can only confront her peril. There is no rest for her.”

Hami replied with a growl of exasperation. “Have care, Bloodguard. You demean us, and we will not suffer it.

“We intend that the Ringthane should rest until we have determined the course of this evil. Then we will bear her to safety. Already we have readied a litter so that she may continue to rest among us as we withdraw.”

Linden did not look at Hami or Stave. The hostility between them pained her. It seemed to imply that she could not trust either of them. And the Land needed all of its friends. Jeremiah needed them.

Turning away from them, she studied the Stonedownor’s troubled mien. “Liand,” she murmured, “what did Esmer do?”

He gave her a stricken glance, then ducked his head. “I know not. I have not left your side. No one has spoken to me. I did not know that the Ramen mean to depart.”

For a moment, everyone around her remained silent, reluctant to answer her aloud; to put her peril into words. On either side of her, Bhapa and Pahni stood motionless, stopped in the act of offering her amanibhavam and treasure-berries.

Then Mahrtiir said like a hawk, “Chosen, it is your intent to enter a Fall. Esmer has enabled you to do so. He has called Fangthane’s malign creation to the Verge of Wandering.”

When Linden understood what he was saying, her heart lifted as if she had heard trumpets.

Esmer had summoned a caesure.

The news did nothing to ease her complex dread, relieve her emotional fever. If anything, it made her fears more immediate, brought her chosen crisis nearer. Chills and urgency shook her until she felt almost dismembered. Nevertheless Mahrtiir’s announcement seemed to tap a wellspring of purpose deep within her. Days of cruel frustration fell away as if she had cut the bindings of a millstone. At last she would be able to take action; to stop following other people’s decisions from emergency to emergency.

And she would not have to spend days or weeks on horseback, wandering the Land in search of a caesure, while Lord Foul multiplied obstacles against her. She could dare her doom now.

She should have been terrified. She was terrified. But she was also sure. The