The Runes of the Earth

fever which threatened to paralyze her could only be annealed in fire.

At this moment, just one question remained to undermine her certainty. Her cheeks were flushed like a promise of flames as she confronted Stave past the staring Manethralls and Cords.

“Yes, it’s dire,” she admitted. “I know that.” Still she could not speak above a hoarse whisper. Nevertheless her voice was full of implied conflagration. “But I’m going to do it. I think it’s worth the risk.

“Will you come with me?”

She expected that he would refuse. He had already proclaimed his determination to ride away so that he could warn the Masters. And the horserite may have convinced him to oppose her directly. Why else had he postponed his departure? Yet last night he had gazed at her with an unwonted softness, as though he had been touched in spite of his intransigence-

He faced her flatly: she could not read him. She had never been able to see into the hearts of his people. If he decided to attack her on the spot, she would receive no warning of any kind.

Nevertheless she studied him with fever in her eyes, and waited for him to declare himself.

For a few heartbeats, Stave appeared to consider his options. Then he replied, “The wishes of the Ranyhyn have been made plain to me. If I do not accompany you, Hynyn will withdraw his acceptance.”

Stiffly the Haruchai shrugged. “And the horserite has given me cause to remain at your side for a time.”

Stung by relief, Linden’s eyes misted and ran. She could not clear her sight until her hands found Pahni’s bowl of aliantha; until the taste of treasure-berries filled her mouth and throat with healing.

Already she owed the Ranyhyn a debt too great to be repaid.

While Linden ate aliantha lightly-very lightly-sprinkled with crushed amanibhavam, most of the Ramen left the shelter to continue their preparations for departure. They did not expect Esmer’s caesure to leave any part of their encampment undamaged.

Before he went, Mahrtiir explained tersely that he had selected Bhapa and Pahni to accompany him, rather than any of his own Cords, because of their kinship with Sahah. Then he led them away to gather supplies for an extended journey into the unknown hazards of time.

Char was nowhere to be seen. Apparently he had been dispatched on an errand of some kind. Of her people, only Hami stayed with Linden. At once solicitous and alarmed, the Manethrall fretted over Linden’s condition as Linden stoked her courage with treasure-berries enhanced by the dangerous roborant of amanibhavam.

Her shivering eased somewhat as she absorbed the sustenance of the Land, but she remained perilously labile; close to terror.

When the Ramen had dispersed, Stave approached her. In spite of his native stoicism, he walked with a pronounced limp. Hours on horseback had inflamed his injury. Yet he proposed to ride again soon, as long and as far as she required.

At least “for a time.” Whatever that meant.

As if Liand were not present, the Master announced, “The Stonedownor must remain here. His mount cannot accompany the Ranyhyn. If he attempts the Fall, he will be lost.”

Liand might have retorted hotly; but Linden stopped him by touching his chest with her palm. “Anele has the same problem,” she answered, trembling. “But I need him. And I need Liand. We’ll have to figure something out.”

The young man gave her a look of gratitude; but she kept her attention on Stave. “The Ramen don’t ride. How will they stay with us?”

Stave did not look away. “Their bond with the Ranyhyn cannot be severed. Where the Ranyhyn lead, they will be able to follow. The Stonedownor has no such bond.”

Linden sighed. “Then he can ride with you. I’ll take Anele with me.”

The Haruchai raised an eyebrow. But he did not object.

When she glanced at Liand, she saw him grinning as though she had given him a gift.

Before he could speak, she muttered, “Don’t you dare thank me. I’m not doing you any favours.” Her voice shook with fear for him. “If this doesn’t kill us, we could end up in places worse than your worst nightmares. If I didn’t need your help so badly, I wouldn’t risk any of you.”

Except Anele, who could hardly suffer more than he already did.

Liand went on grinning; but he took her seriously enough to remain silent. Sighing again, she told him, “We’re going to need your supplies. You’d better get them. Bring as much as you can carry.”

The Ramen might provide everything necessary; but she wanted an excuse to send the Stonedownor away. If she could, she meant to spare him the confrontation that awaited her.

“Yes, certainly,” Liand said without hesitation. At once, he hurried away as if he were eager to risk not only his life but his sanity in her name.

Within herself, Linden sagged. Devoutly she prayed that the young man would not have cause to regret his loyalty. However, a more immediate concern demanded her attention. She did not know how near the caesure had come. She might not have much time left.

To Stave, she said abruptly, “Before we do this, I’ve got to talk to Esmer. Will you go with me?” The senses of the Haruchai were more discerning than hers: no doubt Stave knew exactly where to find Cail’s son. “I understand if you prefer to keep your distance. But I could use your company.”

This time, Stave raised both eyebrows. “If you wish it.” He may have felt surprise, but his tone held no hint of alarm. “He stands at the edge of the encampment. The way is not far.”

Gratefully she took his arm. Clinging to the tacit validation of his support, she stepped out into the ceaseless rain.

The mild, steady drizzle drenched her hair; washed the heat of fire and fever from her cheeks. It was indeed much warmer than it had been the previous day. Nevertheless it was cool enough to leach away the residual warmth of the shelter. Her chills seemed to worsen with every step as Stave took her among the busy Ramen past the open centre of the encampment.

Her fear had soaked into the marrow of her bones. She had not forgotten Covenant’s words in Anele’s mouth. You need the ring. But be careful with it. It feeds the caesures. But he had died long ago; and now she did not intend to regard his warning.

He had also said, I can’t help you unless you find me. She did not know how to do so, except by daring the Land’s past.

Esmer had prepared the way, apparently seeking to aid her. Before she went farther, accepted his help, she needed to know how much she could trust him.

Limping, Stave escorted her northward. In that direction, veiled by the rain and the teeming clouds, the Verge of Wandering narrowed gradually toward the Land. There Cail’s son stood alone with his back to the last shelters, ignoring the swift preparations of the Ramen.

If he sensed Linden’s approach, or Stave’s, he gave no sign. Instead he concentrated through the grey drizzle as if he sought to draw the caesure toward him by force of will.

At her first blurred glimpse of him, Linden’s guts knotted, disturbed by the nausea which had troubled her during their previous encounters. He stood like a cynosure against the shrouded background of the rain, bright with the queasy squirming of power. As soon as she saw him, she wondered how she had failed to discern him earlier. His vast capabilities, like his inbred conflicts, seemed as unmistakable as wailing.

In his presence, something within her turned numb. She was no longer sure how to question him.

Yet Stave did not hesitate, although he had more cause for apprehension. And when they were within three or four steps, Esmer turned to regard them with eyes the colour of storm-wracked seas.

Danger seethed in him. For reasons of his own, he attempted a diffident, unconvincing smile. “You are well come, Wildwielder.” His tone was full of obscure fears. They gnawed at each other like old bones. “The Fall is a few hundred paces distant, no more. Soon it will become manifest to your senses.”

He conveyed the impression that he thought she might take offense at his efforts on her behalf.

Deliberately Linden released Stave’s arm so that he could move freely if Esmer attacked. Then she