The Runes of the Earth: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Book One (89 page)

The Master replied with a
Haruchai
shrug, at once subtle and expressive. “She is a servant of Revelstone. The name is her own. More than that we do not know.”

A servant—Linden scowled reflexively. Well, of course, she thought. If the Land had Masters, it naturally required servants as well. Men and women who had been born here for uncounted generations had been reduced to waiting on the
Haruchai.

What fun.

Riding a wave of renewed irritation, she beckoned Liand into the room and started to close the door on Galt. But then she caught herself. Facing the Master past the edge of the door, she demanded, “Wait a minute. I know you're here to guard me, but I assume you're also going to at least pretend that I'm a guest. So tell me something.”

Galt lifted an eyebrow. “Chosen?”

“The gates.” She held him with her glare. “I'm tired of waiting for answers. Where did you get them?”

He cocked his head, apparently consulting his kinsmen. Then he shrugged again. “Very well. As you have heard, the gates were wrought by the Giants of the Search. It transpired thus.

“When the First of the Search and Pitchwife, her mate, had borne the Staff of Law to Sunder and Hollian, they returned to The Grieve. There they awaited some word of what had befallen Starfare's Gem and the other Giants of the Search.” Covenant, Linden, and their companions had left the Giantship far to the north in the Sunbirth Sea, half crippled among floes of ice. “But when at last the
dromond
gained
Coercri,
the Giants did not then return to their homeland. Rather the First led them to Revelstone, that they might behold the handiwork of their lost kindred, the Unhomed.”

At first while Galt spoke, Linden simply listened, glad to hear what had become of her long-dead friends. When she was satisfied that he would indeed answer her question, however, she began to study the Master himself. Distracted by other concerns, she had paid no attention to him in the forehall. And she had seen little of him except his back during their ill-lit trek to her rooms. Now she looked at him as if they had never met before.

He appeared to be less than Stave's age. The characteristic flat cheeks and brown skin of the
Haruchai
resisted the definition of years. But Galt's lack of scars made him seem untried; therefore young.

“You are aware,” he continued, “that the Giants are a deliberate folk, hasty in neither speech nor deed. Though they had been long absent from their Home, they remained in the Land for several years. At first their efforts were dedicated to the restoration of Starfare's Gem, which had been sorely damaged. Later, however, their hearts turned toward Revelstone, for Lord's Keep also had known harm.

“They admired greatly the craft of the Unhomed, who had lived and perished in Seareach. In addition, they wished to honor the valor of all those who had striven against the Sunbane. And they desired to express their gratitude for the
caamora
which the ur-Lord Thomas Covenant granted to the dead of The Grieve. Therefore they determined to offer what they named a ‘small' restoration to Revelstone.

“They professed that many of the hurts which the Keep had suffered lay beyond their skill. However, the fashioning of gates did not surpass them. Here the Giants of
the Search labored long and mightily so that Revelstone might once again withstand its foes.”

Linden lowered her eyes to mask her own gratitude. Instinctively she did not want the Master to see what his explanation meant to her.

She was about to ask him if her friends had ever found their way Home; but when she looked down, she noticed his right hand.

It might have belonged to Thomas Covenant. The last two fingers had been cut away, leaving a ragged scar in their place. Its smooth pallor suggested that the mutilation had been performed long ago, perhaps in Galt's youth—or his childhood.

At the sight, she flinched, stung by a sudden host of memories. With his maimed right hand, Covenant had drawn her toward sunlight and love aboard Starfare's Gem. He had worn his wedding ring on the last finger of that hand. And she herself had cut away two of Jeremiah's fingers in order to save the rest.

Beware the halfhand.
Covenant and Jeremiah.

Now she had found another among the Masters.

“Linden?” Liand asked anxiously. She could not conceal her reactions from him. He had begun to know her too well; or his proximity to the Staff preserved the vestiges of his health-sense.

But she ignored his concern. The inferences which she had drawn about Anele seemed to carry her further. Now she saw implications, portents, too complex for her to articulate. Hugging the Staff to her chest, she asked brusquely, “Tell me about your hand.”

The Master did not deign to glance down at his missing fingers. “I am honored to be among the Humbled.”

She swallowed curses and waited for him to go on.

“When the
Haruchai
determined to take upon themselves the burdens of Mastery,” Galt said flatly, “they recognized their peril. It is the peril of Korik, Sill, and Doar.

“Their tale is surely known to you. Ruled by the Illearth Stone, they were made to serve Corruption. First they were maimed to resemble the Halfhand, ur-Lord Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever. Then they were sent to bear battle and despair against the Council of Lords. Thus was the Vow of the Bloodguard tarnished, and their service brought to an end.”

Linden knew the story: she had heard it from Stave only a few days ago. Still it filled her with dread.

Without haste or emphasis, Galt stated, “The fault of Korik and Sill and Doar lay in this, that they allowed their ire at the destruction of the Unhomed to sway them. They believed that the outrage in their hearts would raise them to the stature of terrible banes and deathless malice. From their example, the
Haruchai
learned the peril of
such passions. When we determined to become the Masters of the Land, we determined also that we would commit no similar fault.

“Therefore in each generation three among us are selected to be the Humbled, so that the Masters will not neglect their resolve, or set it aside. Our hands are severed to resemble Korik's, and Sill's, and Doar's. Among our people, we embody the error which destroyed the service of the Bloodguard. While the Humbled live, the Masters will not forget their peril.”

Linden stared at him in dismay. The judgments of the
Haruchai
continued to appall her.
Again you have shamed me with your healing.
Stave believed that he deserved the consequences of his failure to defeat insurmountable odds. And Galt considered his mutilation an honor—

Her voice nearly failed as she asked, “How did they pick you?”

“Chosen,” he replied, “I challenged others of my people, and was not defeated.”

Linden winced. “You
wanted
this? You wanted to be
maimed
?”

He regarded her gravely. “There is no higher place among us. Only the Voice of the Masters commands greater deference, and even he will accede when the Humbled speak as one.”

Commands greater deference—Abruptly new suggestions swept through her; hints of insight like a glimpse into the secret hearts of the Masters. Hardly aware of what she did, she closed the door on Galt. Then she leaned her forehead against the cool stone. He had given her what she needed.

Now she knew how she would argue for Anele's release. The
Haruchai
had founded their Mastery of the Land on a profound misapprehension.

Perhaps she would be able to postpone making use of the old man's madness a little longer.

When the rush of inferences had passed, she turned back to Liand and the Mahdoubt. The older woman was looking at her, apparently studying her; and for the first time Linden could see the mismatched color of her eyes. Her left was the rich blue of violets, but her right held a startling orange which gave the impression that it was about to burst from her head.

In spite of her strangeness, however, the Mahdoubt emanated a comfortable kindness that appealed to Linden. With the last of her dwindling percipience, she saw both solid health and untroubled beneficence in the woman. In response, she felt unexpectedly protective of the Mahdoubt. At the same time, she yearned to be protected by her.

Before either the older woman or Liand could speak, Linden asked, “You're a servant? Why do you do it? Let the Masters wait on themselves. Why should it be your job to make their lives easier?”

Liand nodded his agreement.

But the question did not ruffle the Mahdoubt. Indeed, she appeared to occupy a space beyond the reach of disturbance. “Pssht, lady,” she replied. “Fine sentiments, assuredly. The Mahdoubt sees that your heart is great. Upon occasion, however, it misleads you.

“There is no dishonor in service. The Mahdoubt labors here, assuredly, and her tasks are weary. Yet by her efforts she is fed and clad and warmed. At night she sleeps beyond harm in a kindly bed, with no rough words.

“Lady, the Mahdoubt has lived too many years to find pleasure in the tending of sheep and cattle. The endless labors of crops and farming exceed her old bones. She and others—pssht, lady, there are many others—are grateful to end their days in the service of Revelstone. How otherwise should they provide for themselves?”

The older woman's orange eye appeared to flare briefly. “Is there some miscompre-hension here?” she asked herself. “Assuredly.

“Lady, the Mahdoubt does not ‘wait' upon the Masters. They are who they are, and require no care. Her labors serve the great Keep and all those within it who lack the sufficiency of Masters.”

Comforted by the Mahdoubt's answer, Linden found herself smiling at last. “I'm sorry.” She could hardly remember the last time she had smiled at all. “I shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. I'm just frustrated by all this
Haruchai
purity and absolutism. After a while, I can't help assuming the worst.”

Again Liand nodded.

“Assuredly, lady,” muttered the Mahdoubt. “Assuredly. Think no more on it. Is the Mahdoubt affronted? She is not. Indeed, the days when aught vexed her are long past.”

In the same tone, she added, “Does the wonder of my gown please you?” She indicated her jarring robe. “Are you gladdened to behold it? Yes, assuredly, it must be so. How should it be otherwise? Every scrap and patch was given to the Mahdoubt in gratitude and woven together in love.”

Linden smiled again. “It's extraordinary.” She did not know what else to say. Certainly she had no wish to deny the older woman's pride in her garment.

Liand cleared his throat. “That it is woven in love cannot be mistaken,” he remarked politely. “If I may say so without offense, however, the gratitude is less plain to me. Will you not speak of it, that I may see your gown more clearly?”

The Mahdoubt faced him with her plump fists braced on her hips. “Foolish boy, you must not tease the Mahdoubt so.” Her tone suggested tart amusement. “Matters of apparel are the province of women, beyond your blandishment. The lady grasps the presence of gratitude. And if she does not”—her blue eye flicked a quick glance at Linden—“yet she will. Oh, assuredly. It is as certain as the rising and setting of the sun.”

Before he could respond, she turned for the door. “You must have food. And then you must sleep. Assuredly. Your need for both is great.

“The Mahdoubt will return with a second tray.”

At once, she bustled out of the room as if her movements were as irresistible as tides.

As the door closed, Liand met Linden's gaze with a perplexed smile. “That,” he said in bafflement, “is an unforeseen woman. I suspect that I should be wary of her, yet I feel only fondness. She has comforted me, Linden.” He sighed. “I do not understand it.”

Linden frowned. “Makes you want to curse Kevin's Dirt, doesn't it.” Because her percipience had dwindled, she had felt unable to see deeply into the Mahdoubt.

A grin quirked Liand's mouth. “Assuredly.” But then his humor fell away. “It is as you say. The loss of my senses is bitter to me. Until we sojourned among the mountains, and all the Land was reborn in my sight, I did not comprehend evil. It has become plain to me now.” Sadness darkened his eyes as he spoke. “Beyond question the Falls are a great evil. Yet I deem them a little wrong beside the deprivation imposed by Kevin's Dirt. It has blinded the people of my home, and perhaps all the folk of the Land, to the meaning of their lives.”

The lament in his words touched Linden. “Maybe there's something I can do about that,” she said grimly. “This is the Staff of Law, for God's sake.” She held its reassuring clarity close to her heart. “Once I've slept for a while,” and had some food, “I intend to find out just how powerful Kevin's Dirt is.”

Liand replied with a dark grin of anticipation. In the brief time that she had known him, he had become a man who wanted to fight; to strike blows in the Land's defense, although he had no power, and could not hope to stand against Lord Foul.

The change in him affected her like the Mahdoubt's strange aura. She had relied on his protection from the first. And in turn she ached to protect him. But she did not know how.