The Runes of the Earth

Sighing, she released her grasp on her friends, wrapped her hands around the Staff, and rose to her feet. As Stave withdrew from the centre of the floor, she took a few steps over the twisted stone, then stopped to plant the heel of the Staff between her feet and hold up her head.

Briefly she considered revealing the advice that she had received from Covenant in her dreams. No doubt Stave had already told his kinsmen what Anele had said when he had spoken for her dead love. And Covenant’s name might carry weight with the Masters. But she did not know what to make of his messages-if in fact they were messages at all, and not the by-products of her dreaming dreads.

Whatever happened, she needed to withstand the Masters on her own terms.

Still facing Stave as if he were the only one of his people who mattered, she said quietly, “We’re wasting time here. The Demondim will be back,” she was sure of that. “We should be deciding what to do, not blaming each other.

“But you’re the Masters of the Land. You’ve done me the courtesy of explaining what you think I’ve done wrong,” when they could have simply left her to the horde, or taken Covenant’s ring and the Staff from her. “You deserve the same from me.”

Only then did she shift her attention to Handir. Obliquely her words were still addressed to Stave. But she had already contradicted and defied him enough. He might hear her more clearly now if she spoke to the Voice of the Masters.

“Tell me something,” she asked abruptly. “How do they do it?”

Handir lifted an eyebrow. “Chosen?”

“The Demondim. How do they use the Illearth Stone? You can sense them.” And the discernment of the Haruchai exceeded hers. “Explain it to me.

“At first I thought they must have found some lost fragment of the original Stone. But now I don’t think so. They have too much power-and too many of them have it at once. And we all know that the Illearth Stone was destroyed.

“So how do they do it?”

The older Haruchai paused for a moment, apparently considering his response. He may have thought that the capabilities of the Demondim were irrelevant to Stave’s accusations. Still he decided to answer.

“The Demondim wield a Fall. Among them they both command and sustain it, causing it to serve them. This Fall spans time to a distant age when the Illearth Stone remained intact. Similarly it extends deep among the roots of Gravin Threndor, to the place where the Stone lay hidden until Drool Rockworm discovered it. Therefore the might which the Demondim employ is great. It arises unhindered from its source.”

Linden frowned. He might be right-Like the Lost Deep, where the Demondim had bred their descendants, the Illearth Stone had once been buried far beneath Mount Thunder. The Vile-spawn could conceivably have known the Stone’s location centuries or millennia before Drool Rockworm uncovered it.

But she needed confirmation. “Are you sure? If they can do that, why don’t they just shatter Time and be done with it? Instead they’re toying with us. Why do they even bother?”

“If Corruption were able to destroy the Arch,” replied Handir, “he would have done so ere now. Some Law or power constrains him, and his servants with him.

“Observe that the Fall violates the Law of Time, but that the use of the Illearth Stone which the Fall enables does not. The Demondim have not altered the past. In some fashion, the Law of Time intervenes to preserve itself.

“This we do not comprehend. We know only that the Falls are perilous and terrible. We cannot say why their evil does not suffice to undo the Arch. The Lords spoke of restrictions inherent to the nature of power. They named `the necessity of freedom,’ among others. However, such lore is beyond our ken. It is only plain to us that the Demondim act as they do because their power extends no further.”

“All right.” Linden nodded, accepting the idea. “For some reason, they have limits.” Obviously something prevented Lord Foul from using Joan’s ring directly. “That might help us. But it’s not enough. Here’s the important question.

“Can you beat them? All of you together?” Every living Haruchai? “Can you prevent them from turning this whole place into a pile of rubble?”

Handir faced her as if nothing she might say could disturb him. “We cannot.”

Trying to pierce his impassivity, Linden made a show of surprise. “And you don’t think you need me? You don’t think you need power? You admit you can’t save Revelstone, much less the Land, but you don’t want help?”

From the edge of the floor, Liand nodded vigorous approval. Mahrtiir watched her with encouragement gleaming in his eyes.

But the Voice of the Masters was not swayed. “Kevin Landwaster heeded such concerns,” he countered. “We do not. Our worth and our purposes are measured by the forces arrayed against us, but we are not judged by victory or defeat, life or death. Rather we value ourselves according to our honour and steadfastness. That the Demondim are able to wield the might of the Illearth Stone does not require us to abandon who we are.

“Knowing this, we do not choose to emulate the Landwaster’s despair.”

Linden stifled a groan. In Handir’s response, she recognised the passion of the Haruchai for absolute judgments. Even Cail, who had served the Search for the One Tree with an almost limitless valour and fidelity: even he had not questioned the final denunciation of the Haruchai. His fault was not that he had succumbed to the merewives, but that he had lived on after his seduction. She did not doubt that the Masters would rather die as a race than retract their chosen form of service.

But she was not prepared to simply strive and fail and die. Not while her son needed her. Not while the Land was in such peril.

And she knew that Handir had not told her the whole truth. He had said nothing of his people’s fear that they would be taken by the passion which had overcome Cail as well as Korik, Sill, and Doar. Liand was right about the Masters. They feared to grieve.

Tightening her grasp on the Staff, she frowned at Handir. “I think I understand,” she said slowly. “You’re mortal. You can’t afford to judge yourselves by standards that transcend your limitations. That was Korik’s mistake. It may even have been Kevin’s.”

There her detachment faltered. Anger began to throb in her voice as she continued.

“But that doesn’t explain why you don’t want help. It doesn’t explain your so-called Mastery of the Land.

“It’s one thing to give your best and then accept what happens. You do that. You’ve always done it. But this time you’ve gone further. This time you think you have the right to prevent other people from doing the same. Isn’t that true? As far as I can tell, you didn’t become Masters because you want to save the Land. You did it because you want to stop anyone else from saving it.

“Am I wrong?” she demanded. “Then say so. Tell me why.”

The Voice of the Masters remained relaxed in front of her; apparently untouched. But his nostrils flared slightly with each breath, and a small muscle clenched and released at the corner of his jaw.

Linden thought that she heard indignation in his tone as he retorted, “That is unjust. We prevent nothing except the use of power.”

“No, you don’t,” she insisted. “You’ve gone much further than that. Stave accused me of healing him without giving him a choice. You’ve prevented anyone from having the choice to use power. In effect, you’ve decided in advance that there hasn’t ever been and won’t ever be anyone in the Land wise enough to use Earthpower well. You’ve prejudged every person and every decision and every action since the day you became Masters. And that just doesn’t make sense.

“Look at it this way,” she said, hurrying so that she would not be interrupted. “You know what’s going to happen when the Demondim come back. You’ll fight them with everything you’ve got, and you’ll be slaughtered. But you don’t know what would happen if you trusted me to help you. Or if you helped me find my son.”

Then Linden shook her head. “But that’s not a good example. I’m not ignorant. And so far you haven’t done anything to get in my way. Here’s a better one.