Stonedown.” The thought clearly grieved him, but he set it aside. “Yet I see naught to trouble me. But my heart misgives me still. I do not trust these Masters, though they have snatched us back from death.”
For his sake, she sighed, “We’re safe enough,” although her voice shook, “at least for now. They may be Masters, but they’re still
And they would do so as long as they could, with Demondim massed beyond the gates, and the power of the Illearth Stone rampant against them.
Handir waited until she was finished. Then he informed Liand, “I have bid you welcome. In the Chosen’s name, I have welcomed you all. Has this no meaning among Stonedownors?”
Facing Linden again, he asserted, “We have become the Masters of the Land because we are
“Does that include the ur-viles?” she asked promptly. “And the Waynhim? None of us would have survived without them. Even Stave-”
Her throat closed. Too many
“We know nothing of their needs,” the Voice of the Masters said inflexibly. “They will be released to the plateau of Glimmermere, where they may care for themselves as they are able.”
At his words, one of her fears fell away. She had once visited the eldritch lake of Glimmermere: she had seen the unassailable purity of its waters. And she had heard long ago that the plateau above and behind the promontory of Lord’s Keep was guarded by sheer cliffs for many leagues. In Glimmermere’s vicinity, the Waynhim and ur-viles would be beyond the immediate reach of the Demondim; safe as long as the Masters could hold back the horde.
A moment of yearning for the cleanliness of the tarn undermined Linden’s attention, and she missed what Handir said next. Something about the Ranyhyn-? Because he appeared to expect a response, she murmured distantly, “Thank you. I’m sorry I haven’t been more gracious. We’ve been through a lot.”
And her difficulties were far from ended. Entering into Revelstone had merely transformed them.
Before Handir could reply, Mahrtiir snapped, “The Ringthane may accept your wishes, Bloodguard. The Ramen do not. The Ranyhyn will not submit to your care. Rather you will release them also to the upland plateau, where they will be tended by the Ramen, and where they may remain or depart, as they choose. To propose otherwise is arrogance.
“And your welcome is without substance. You avow that you will provide for our safety “while Revelstone stands.” That is scant comfort, sleepless one. You cannot cast down the Demondim, and are utterly surpassed by the Illearth Stone. Yet you make no preparation for defence.”
Shadows shifted ominously across the Manethrall’s visage. “You name yourself “the Voice of the Masters”. Heed my voice, Bloodguard. The gates of Revelstone are mighty, but they will not long remain unbreached. Ere the sun sets, the Demondim will enter this hall, and then it will be revealed that your welcome is as empty as your arrogance. If the Ringthane does not preserve you, the Masters will perish from the Land.”
The gates, Linden thought unexpectedly. Something about the gates-
Handir continued to regard her for a moment as though he wondered whether Mahrtiir spoke for her. Then he turned impassively to the Raman.
“You are mistaken, Manethrall, in many things.” If the Master felt either impatience or scorn, his tone concealed it. “We have offered to care for the Ranyhyn because we seek to do them honour. They have been too long absent from the Land, and we have craved their return. But we intend no disregard toward the Ramen. Nor will we gainsay your word. The Ranyhyn will be released, as you have instructed, and you will tend to them.”
Handir paused, apparently offering Mahrtiir an opportunity to respond. But the Manethrall said nothing, and his fierce glare seemed to defy the Masters. With a shrug, Handir continued his reply.
“Preparations against the Demondim have begun, though you do not witness our efforts. As you have observed, we cannot equal the might of the Demondim. Therefore the watchtower is being filled with wood and oil, and made ready for fire. Any approach to the gates of Revelstone will fall in flames.”
And rise again, Linden thought darkly, until you run out of fuel. If the gates hold at all.
They troubled her for some reason. There was a question that she wanted to ask, but it eluded her. She was too tired to remember-
“Other preparations also have begun,” the Voice of the Masters promised. “You may partake in them, and in the defence of the Keep, if that is your desire.”
Still Mahrtiir glared at the Master on Linden’s behalf, and said nothing.
Again Handir shrugged. The
“In one matter, however,” explained Handir, “you have spoken sooth. No defence will ward us from the evil of the Illearth Stone. Yet at present the Demondim do not wield it against us. Nor do they approach the gates. For reasons which we do not comprehend, they appear content to remain at some distance, ensuring that we cannot flee, but threatening us in no other form.
“We have heard your voice, Manethrall. Hear mine. Until we have determined how we must respond to the Chosen, we have no better course than to make our guests welcome as best we may.”
Abruptly Linden jerked up her head. Responsive to her mood, Hyn took a step or two forward, moving between Mahrtiir and the Voice of the Masters.
“The gates,” Linden said. “Now I remember. Where in hell did you get gates?”
When she had entered here three and a half thousand years ago, there were no gates below the watchtower. They had been destroyed long before. And the Sandgorgon Nom had shattered the Keep’s inner defences at Covenant’s behest. Yet now both sets of gates were closed: great interlocking stone doors which sealed the Keep as effectively as blank walls.
Stave had said that Giants still visited the Land-
Handir paused as if he were consulting with his people. Then he asked, “Do you require to speak of this now, Chosen? You are weary. Your questions will be answered when you have rested.”
“I don’t know how to trust you,” Linden countered thinly. “Stave knows why. Tell me about the damn gates.”
Handir met her gaze with the ambiguous light of the torches in his eyes. “They were gifted to Revelstone by the Giants of the Search. More I will not say now. We will speak of all that lies between us when you are better able to do so.
“Here is Gait.” With a nod, he indicated a Master standing behind his shoulder. “He will guide you to chambers where you may sleep. We will gather on the morrow to speak of your plight, and of Revelstone’s. There your questions will be answered.” Linden nodded. “All right. That’s fair enough, I guess. God knows I’m exhausted,” so tired that she could barely keep her thoughts in order. “So are my friends.
“There’s just one more thing.”
One more absolute responsibility. Then she would let herself sleep. With an effort, she pushed down the rising force of her weariness, and looked around for Anele.
She spotted him across the hall from her just as two Masters reached up to lift him down from Hrama’s back.
He was still asleep. Otherwise he would not have suffered their touch without protest. But he roused as soon as they took hold of him, and immediately began to struggle, thrashing against them as if the touch of their hard hands burned him.
Reacting to Anele’s distress, Hrama whinnied sharply. The other Ranyhyn tossed their heads and stamped their hooves anxiously. But they did not move against the
However, Hyn answered Linden’s swift alarm by shouldering her way between the warriors and their horses toward the old man. Alert now, and frantic, Linden shouted over the crowd, “Just a minute! Anele stays with
In her hands, she held up the Staff like a threat.
At once, half a dozen Masters came together across her path, forming a barricade against her. Hyn shoved at them with her chest, then stepped back, awaiting Linden’s will.
“God
