The Runes of the Earth

Yet time remained intact: she knew that. Stave’s words still reached her in sequence. One thing still led to another-

“No,” she said like a sigh. “It doesn’t work that way for him. He’s too conflicted. We’re his friends, or his enemies. He hates you and approves of me. Or maybe it’s the other way around. As far as I can tell, the only simple thing about him is his respect for the Ranyhyn.” Nothing else had compelled him to refrain from killing Stave. “He doesn’t want them hurt.”

Mahrtiir nodded in confirmation.

Closing her eyes, Linden rubbed at the frown knotted between her brows. “Maybe he is powerful enough to bring down the Arch. I don’t know. But he can’t do it. He needs a balance of some kind. He can’t do anything really destructive if he doesn’t help us at the same time. He can’t help us without betraying us.

“He had to at least warn us. He needs that. And if he didn’t, we wouldn’t have a chance to save the Ranyhyn.”

The Master regarded her closely. “You cannot be certain of this.”

“No,” she admitted. When had she ever been certain of anything except her loves? “But neither can you. And until we are sure, I’m not leaving. The Waynhim have already suffered enough. I won’t leave them until I know they aren’t going to be wiped out.”

Esmer had threatened even the ur-viles with destruction.

For a long moment, Stave appeared to consider her words. Then he lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. “Very well,” he said. “You will do as you wish, and I will serve you as well as I am able. In this time, it is useless to oppose you. But understand that nothing has been resolved between us.”

As he turned away, Linden bowed her head over the Staff. She was content with his response. He was Haruchai, inflexible by nature as well as conviction. Yet he had already conceded more than she could have expected from him. She might have closed her eyes then and slept; let vitrim and the Staff work within her undisturbed. But Liand was too restless to leave her alone. And she had been postponing his questions for hours. Sighing to herself, she gave up on sleep in order to relieve some of his imposed ignorance.

While she told him tales of her time with Thomas Covenant, one rambling anecdote after another in no particular order, the Waynhim began to busy themselves around the cave. At first she wondered what they were doing; but then she saw that they were preparing a meal. Apparently they did not live on vitrim alone-or did not expect their guests to do so.

From a side tunnel, they produced a stone pot shaped like a cauldron. One of their flaming urns they placed near the centre of the chamber; and when they had muttered over it for a few moments, intensifying its heat with chants and gestures, they balanced the larger pot on top of it. Then they began sorting ingredients which Linden could not identify into the cooking pot.

As they worked, she continued to talk; and gradually her oblique narrative began to take on another purpose. Instead of answering questions Liand did not how know to ask, she mined her memories: words were the picks and shovels with which she delved for courage and insight. And the names of her lost friends were an incantation. By their magic, she created a place for herself in the Land, a role-and imagined herself able to fulfil it.

“I thought that the Sunbane and the Ravers were as bad as things could get. For a long time, I didn’t think I would ever see anything worse than the shedding of the Haruchai.” Through the Clave, Lord Foul had attempted genocide against Stave’s ancestors, draining their blood to feed the Banefire. “But when Caer-Caveral was gone, and the Sunbane broke into Andelain for the first time-”

The people and places and needs that she remembered explained her to herself.

“Lord Foul was responsible for all of it,” she said quietly. “He isn’t called the Despiser and Corruption for nothing. He’s contempt and despair. Every time any being or power tramples on life, he’s there. Laughing-”

Only the agony of an entire world could appease his own innominate anguish.

“I’m sure there are times when I act like I’ve lost my mind. I probably confuse the hell out of you. But you already know what’s happening for me. Whenever I do something that looks insane, just remember that Lord Foul has my son.”

When she stopped at last, she found all of the attention in the chamber focused on her. The Waynhim had paused in their preparations to regard her as they would an oracle. Mahrtiir’s concentration was as precise as a hawk’s. Even Stave’s posture conveyed an unexpected impression of respect.

Liand had been listening with wonder on his face. As she looked at him, however, he drew an unsteady breath and shook off his entrancement.

“Now I am able to grasp why Anele is troubled when he speaks of “astonishment”. I know not how to name what you have become to me. I feel that I have gained the experience of years in these past days, and every fact or detail which once seemed commonplace has taken on a new significance.

“To my eyes, you do not appear “insane”. Rather you surpass my capacity for expression. When you speak of that which you have done, and of those whom you have known, you appear to inhabit a realm of antiquity and grandeur. I would say that at your side I seem paltry to myself, yet that belies what is in my heart, for it is not I who am diminished, but rather you who are exalted.”

He glanced around the cave as if he sought confirmation, but only Mahrtiir nodded an acknowledgment. Stave and the Waynhim simply studied Linden and listened as if the fates of worlds were being decided; and Anele sprawled on his ledge, sleeping soundly.

Linden did not know how to respond. If he believed that she occupied “a realm of antiquity and grandeur,” how could he understand that she was terrified and confused, or that she depended on his uncomplicated support?

After a moment, she said, “It isn’t like that. I’m more ordinary than you think.” Covenant fit Liand’s description. She did not. “I just can’t afford to let it get in my way.”

Holding the young man’s gaze, she added, “Do you think that I belong in this position? That I was born to wield tremendous powers and make decisions that could affect the world? No. I do it because I don’t know how else to fight for what I love.” Or for herself. “If Lord Foul hadn’t kidnapped Jeremiah, I wouldn’t even be here.”

As she spoke, her weariness seemed to slip from her shoulders, shrugged aside by the importance of what she was trying to say.

“That makes you braver than I am,” she told Liand. “Don’t you know that? You didn’t have to leave Mithil Stonedown. You didn’t have to help me. Hell, as far as you knew, there wasn’t even anything at stake. But you did it anyway.

“You did it because you didn’t believe in your own life. The Masters made it too small for you, and you jumped at your first chance to make it bigger.”

Let Stave take offense if he would. She had not kept secret her reaction to what his people had done.

“If there’s anyone here,” she pronounced like an article of faith, “who deserves to “inhabit a realm of antiquity and grandeur,” it’s you. And Mahrtiir.” She met the Manethrall’s gaze briefly. “Bhapa. Pahni. You’re less selfish than I am. You haven’t lost a helpless kid who needs you. Instead you decided to risk your entire lives for the simple reason that you consider it worth doing.”

In response, Liand regarded her as though she had lifted him out of himself. All of the Waynhim continued to study her closely, and Mahrtiir’s eagerness for battle shone in his eyes.

But Stave stood near the centre of the chamber with his arms folded across his chest and his emotions hidden. His native reticence defied her discernment. But the scar under his eye caught the light of the urns and gleamed redly.

Eventually the Waynhim resumed their preparations; and Linden watched them, haunted by Esmer’s dark promises. Too many of them will perish if you do not contrive their salvation. He might conceivably have been referring to the harm that the creatures suffered from the Staff; but she did not believe so. He had spoken too often of betrayal.

When she realised that she was fretting, she asked the Manethrall if Pahni and Bhapa should be warned of the danger. He assured her, however, that the Cords had been trained as hunters and scouts; sentinels for the great horses. No doubt the ur-viles were wary as well: they had their own reasons to distrust Esmer. And the