The Runes of the Earth

hear she would not have understood what the Waynhim said

The ur-viles must have known that the Waynhim were here as soon as they had detected the scent of the Staff. Without Esmer’s intervention, they and the Waynhim would have already attacked each other.

He replied to the creature: a buzz of implied noise in the bones of Linden’s skull. Again he indicated Covenant’s ring. This time when the Waynhim spoke, she heard a low spatter of sound like the phosphenes which lingered in her vision, complicating the shadows.

The rasp of Esmer’s voice returned; but she did not realise that he had addressed her until he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. Like the Waynhim’s, his mouth moved incomprehensibly.

With gestures, she tried to tell him that she could not hear.

Esmer scowled in vexation, and his green eyes seethed. He said something over his shoulder to the Waynhim, then spoke as if he were issuing commands to Linden’s companions. But he did not wait for a response. Instead he raised his hands to her ears and tapped them lightly with his fingertips.

The ur-viles held their formation, waiting.

For a moment, Esmer’s touch tingled on Linden’s eardrums. Then she was struck by a blare of sound as loud and compulsory as the calling of sirens.

Suddenly she could hear the strident apprehension of Liand’s breathing, the harsh chanting of the ur-viles. Pahni’s whispers seemed to roar up the ravine. In spite of their sure-footedness, Stave’s and Mahrtiir’s movements along the rims of the walls sounded like the grinding of boulders.

When Esmer asked, “Now do you hear?” he might as well have yelled in her face.

She flinched. “Too loud.” Her own voice bellowed at her. She clamped her hands over her ears. “It’s too loud.”

Esmer looked stricken; inexplicably ashamed of himself. Then he covered his chagrin with a feigned sneer. “It will pass.”

Before she could reply, he turned to bark something at the Waynhim.

Clamorous as an avalanche, Stave and Mahrtiir landed in the sand of the ravine. Confused by the exaggeration of her hearing, Linden feared that they would hurl themselves at Esmer; or at the Waynhim. But they ignored Cail’s son, and her. Instead of attacking, they bowed deeply to the grey creature.

Their actions left Linden momentarily weak with relief.

Esmer seemed vexed, but he did not regard the Haruchai and the Manethrall. When the Waynhim had answered him, he faced Linden again.

“Wildwielder,” he said darkly, “I have introduced you and your companions. As much as I am able, I have explained your purpose here. This is their reply.

“Your name they acknowledge. They know the ur-Lord Thomas Covenant’s companion against the Sunbane. By their lore, they have learned of her role in fashioning the Staff of Law. And assuredly they understand the importance of white gold. For the sake of the great good that she accomplished at Thomas Covenant’s side, in the name of the wild magic that destroys peace, and because I have spoken on your behalf, they concede that you are indeed Linden Avery the Chosen, as you appear to be. Therefore they will make you welcome.”

Gradually the volume of Esmer’s voice receded to a more bearable level. Lowering her hands, Linden found that she could hear him now without discomfort. Stave’s and Mahrtiir’s feet no longer sounded like thunder as they crossed the sand toward her.

“They concede as well,” Esmer continued, “that you have passed through a rupture in the Law of Time. Their lore speaks of this peril. And I am able to compel their belief. They cannot deny my knowledge of such powers.”

His tone darkened to bitterness as he said, “The Haruchai also they recognise, and the Ramen. They, too, will be welcomed, as well as the Stonedownor, for the same reason.”

Esmer paused while a look of savagery mounted in his gaze. “But never,” he concluded, “will they permit the presence of ur-viles in their covert. And they will not give the Staff of Law into your hands.”

Stave nodded as though he had expected this, and approved. But Mahrtiir glared a warning at the Waynhim, and his sore fingers hinted at his garrote.

Instinctively Linden dismissed the refusal of the Waynhim. It was too much: she could not afford to believe that she would fail now. Her head still reeled with the aftereffects of the Waynhim’s defences, and Esmer’s. She had no choice but to act as though she could not be thwarted.

They were Waynhim, and they had the Staff: that was all that mattered. She had nowhere else to turn. If they did not trust her, she would simply have to persuade them.

Quietly, almost calmly, she asked Esmer, “Why not? They know I made it. Don’t they think it belongs to me?”

His ferocity faded at once. Now he appeared to squirm.

“They fear you,” he admitted. “Your presence in this time is a profound violation of the very Law which the Staff supports. How can they believe that your purpose is benign, when you have chosen to pursue that purpose by such hazardous means?

“Also,” he added in a smaller voice, “they fear me. They perceive the peril of my nature. That I act on your behalf tells against you.”

Linden shook her head. The reasoning of the Waynhim did not surprise her. They were not her enemies.

Esmer, on the other hand-

“They have a point,” she said more sharply. “What in hell are you doing here, Esmer?” Then she stopped herself. “No, don’t answer that yet. First tell me how you got here.

Earlier, he had refused to enter the caesure with her. In my presence, you will surely fail. What had he meant, if not that his nature would not permit passage through a Fall?

“You are acquainted with Elohim,” he answered, still squirming. “You know that they stand apart from all Law. I have not inherited their untrammelled separateness, but I have been granted a measure of their freedom.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Time seldom hinders me.”

“Then why didn’t you just come get the Staff for me? You keep saying you want to help. Why did we have to go through all that pain?”

Esmer looked away. “The Elohim respect the Law of Time. It preserves the Earth. They have no wish to rouse the Worm of the World’s End. To that extent, I am bound by their Wurd.”

Linden swore to herself. As usual, his response was too conflicted and ambiguous to help her. Instead of pursuing the subject, she changed directions.

“You said the Waynhim were blind to my ring. Why is that?”

Esmer’s mien reflected a rolling wave of emotions: anxiety, defensiveness, shame. “It is an effect of my nearness.”

She heard hints in his words, suggestions of insight, but their meaning eluded her. There were conclusions which she should have been able to draw-Too many truths had already slipped through her fingers, leaving her less and less prepared for each succeeding crisis. But she could not think beyond the exigencies of her immediate situation.

Esmer had mentioned betrayal. As if treachery were essential to his identity. And he had avowed that his presence would ensure her failure.

“So if you hadn’t showed up here and broken down their defences,” she said grimly, “we wouldn’t be in this mess. The Waynhim would have sensed the ur-viles, sure, but they would have felt my ring at the same time.

“And the ur-viles wouldn’t have attacked them.” She would not have permitted that. “As far as I can see, the Waynhim are refusing me now because you came all this way to threaten them.”

Stave nodded again.

“So explain it to me, Esmer,” she insisted. “What in hell are you doing here?”

“Wildwielder,” he retorted, “you understand nothing.” His words were scornful, but his tone and his manner ached with regret, apology; self-recrimination. “I feared what might transpire if the ur-viles accosted the Waynhim.