Thomas Covenant 03: Power That Preserves (28 page)

At this, Foamfollower reached out and touched Bannor’s shoulder in a gesture of respect.

Covenant’s jaw muscles jumped as he bit his shouts into silence. He followed the Giant’s gesture, turned, and looked grayly up at Foamfollower. Both the Giant and Bannor had witnessed his bargain with the Ranyhyn forty-seven years ago, when the great horses had first reared to him; Bannor and Foamfollower and Mhoram and Quaan might be the last remaining survivors of the Quest for the Staff of Law. But they were enough. They could accuse him. The Ramen could accuse him. He still did not know all the things of which they could accuse him.

His wedding band hung loosely on his ring finger; he had lost weight, and the white gold dangled as if it were meaningless. He needed its power. Without power, he was afraid to guess at the things which were being kept from him.

Abruptly he stepped up to Kam, jabbed the Manethrall’s chest with one stiff finger. “By hell,” he muttered into Kam’s glare, “if you’re only doing this out of pride, I hope you rot for it. You could have taken them south into the mountains—you could have saved them from this. Pride isn’t a good enough excuse.”

Again the ghoul-begotten hurt darkened Kam’s gaze. “It is not pride,” he said softly. “The Ranyhyn do not choose to go.”

Without wanting to, Covenant believed him. He could not doubt what he saw in the Manethrall. He drew back, straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath. “Then you’d better help me. Trust me whether you want to or not. I hate Foul just as much as you do.”

“That may be,” Kam replied, recovering his severity. “We will not contradict the Ranyhyn concerning you. I saw—I would not have believed if I had not seen. To rear! Hurt as they are! You need not fear us. But your companions are another matter. The woman”—he made an effort to speak calmly—“I do not distrust. Her love for the Manes is in her face. But this Giant—he must prove himself.”

“I hear you, Manethrall,” said Foamfollower quietly. “I will respect your distrust as best I can.”

Kam met the Giant’s look, then glanced over at Bannor. The Bloodguard shrugged impassively. Kam nodded and led the way farther down the cleft.

Before following, Covenant regained his grip on Lena’s hand. She did not raise her head, and in the gloom he could see nothing of her eyes but the bruises under them. “Be brave,” he said as gently as he could. “Maybe it won’t all be this bad.” She made no response, but when he drew her forward she did not resist. He kept her at his side, and soon they stepped together out the far end of the passage.

The cleft opened into a hidden valley which seemed spacious after the constriction of its approach. Over a flat floor of packed dirt the sheer walls rose ruggedly to a narrow swath of evening sky. The valley itself was long and deep; its crooked length formed a vague S, ending in another crevice in the hills. Battered rock pillars and piles stood against the walls in several places, and in the corners and crannies around these immense stones, sheltered from any snowfall through the open roof, were Ramen tents—the nomadic homes of individual families. They seemed pitifully few in the canyon.

Manethrall Kam had announced himself with a shout as he entered the valley, and when Covenant and Lena caught up with him, dozens of Ramen were already moving toward them from the tents. Covenant was struck by how much they all shared Kam’s haunted air. In sharp contrast to the Ranyhyn, they were not ill-fed. The Ramen were renowned for their skill as hunters, and clearly they were better able to provide meat for themselves than grass for the horses. Nevertheless they were suffering. Every one of them who was not either a child or infirm wore the apparel of a Cord, though even Covenant’s untrained and superficial eyes could see how unready some were for the work and risk of being Cords. This fact confirmed his earlier guess that the Ramen population had been dangerously reduced, by winter or war. And they all had Kam’s driven, sleepless aspect, as if they could not rest because their dreams were fraught with horror.

Now Covenant knew intuitively what it was. All of them, even the children, were haunted by the bloody visage of Ranyhyn extermination. They were afraid that the meaning, the reason, of their entire race would soon be eradicated utterly from the Land. The Ramen had always lived for the Ranyhyn, and now they believed they would only survive long enough to see the last Ranyhyn slaughtered. As long as the great horses refused to leave the Plains, the Ramen were helpless to prevent that end.

Only their stubborn, fighting pride kept them from despair.

They met Covenant, Lena, and the Giant with silence and hollow stares. Lena hardly seemed to notice them, but Foamfollower gave them a bow in the Ramen style, and Covenant took his example, though the salute exposed his ring for all to see.

Several Cords murmured at the sight of the white gold, and one of the Manethralls said grimly, “It is true, then. He has returned.” When Kam told them what the wounded Ranyhyn had done, some recoiled in pained amazement, and others muttered angrily under their breath. Yet they all bowed to Covenant; the Ranyhyn had reared to him, and the Ramen could not refuse him welcome.

Then the Winhomes, the Ramen who were too young or too old or too crippled to be Cords, moved away, and the three Manethralls Kam had mentioned earlier came forward to be introduced. When they had given their names, Manethrall Jain, the grim woman who had just spoken, asked Kam, “Was it necessary to admit the Giant?”

“He’s my friend,” Covenant said at once. “And Bannor knows he can be trusted, even if the Bloodguard are too thickheaded to say such things out loud. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Saltheart Foamfollower.”

“You honor me too much,” Foamfollower said wryly.

The Manethralls weighed Covenant’s words as if his speech had more than one meaning. But Bannor said, “Saltheart Foamfollower shared the Quest for the Staff of Law with High Lord Prothall, ur-Lord Covenant, and Manethrall Lithe. At that time, he was worthy of trust. But I have seen many trusts fall into Corruption. Perhaps nothing of the old Giantish faith remains.”

“You don’t believe that,” Covenant snapped.

Bannor raised one eyebrow. “Have you seen The Grieve, ur-Lord? Has Saltheart Foamfollower told you what occurred in the Seareach home of the Giants?”

“No.”

“Then you have been too quick with your trust.”

Covenant tightened his grip on himself. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“That is not my place. I do not offer to guide you to Ridjeck Thome.

Covenant started to protest, but Foamfollower placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. In spite of the conflicting emotions which knotted the Giant’s forehead, smoldered dangerously in his cavernous eyesockets, his voice was steady as he said, “Is it the Ramen custom to keep their guests standing cold and hungry after a long journey?”

Kam spat on the ground, but Manethrall Jain replied tautly, “No, that is not our custom. Behold.” She nodded toward the head of the canyon, where the Winhomes were busy around a large fire under the overhang of one of the pillars. “The food will be prepared soon. It is
kresh
meat, but you may eat it in safety—it has been cooked many times.” Then she took Lena’s arm and said, “Come. You have suffered at the sight of the Ranyhyn. Thus you share our pain. We will do what we can to restore you.” As she spoke, she guided Lena toward the fire.

Covenant was seething with frustration and dread, but he could not refuse the warmth of the campfire; his flesh needed it too badly. His fingertips and knuckles had a frostbitten look in addition to their sick numbness, and he knew that if he did not tend his feet soon he would be in danger of blood poisoning and gangrene. The effort of self-command hurt him, yet he followed Lena and Jain to the fire. As quietly as he could, he asked one of the Winhomes for hot water in which to bathe his feet.

Despite his numbness, the soaking of his feet gave him relief. The hot water helped the fire’s warmth thaw out his bones. And his feet were not as badly damaged as he had feared they would be. Both were swollen with infection, but the harm was no worse than it had been several days ago. For some reason, his flesh was resisting the illness. He was glad to discover that he was in no immediate danger of losing his feet.

A short time later, the food was ready. Kam’s seven Cords sat cross-legged around the fire with the four Manethralls, Bannor, Foamfollower, Lena, and Covenant, and the Winhomes set dry, brittle banana leaves in front of them as plates. Covenant found himself positioned between Lena and Bannor. A lame man muttering dimly to himself served the three of them stew and hot winter potatoes. Covenant did not relish the idea of eating
kresh
—he expected to find the meat rank and stringy—but it had been cooked so long, with such potent herbs, that only a faint bitterness remained. And it was hot. His appetite for heat seemed insatiable. He ate as if he could see long days of cold, scarce provender ahead of him.

He had good reason. Without help, he and his companions would not be able to find enough food for the journey to Foul’s Creche. He seemed to remember having heard somewhere that
aliantha
did not grow in the Spoiled Plains. The hostility of the Ramen boded ill for him in more ways than one.

Though he was afraid of it, he knew he would have to penetrate to the bottom of that hostility.

He looked for an antidote to fear in food, but while he chewed and thought, he was interrupted by a strange man who strode unexpectedly into the covert. The man entered at the far end of the canyon, and moved directly, deliberately, toward the seated men and women. His dress vaguely resembled that of the Ramen; he used the same materials to make his thin shirt and pants, his cloak. But he wore the cloak hanging from his shoulders in a way that affected his freedom of movement more than any Ramen would have tolerated. And he bore no cords anywhere about him. Instead of a Ramen garrote, he carried a short spear like a staff in one hand; and under his belt he wore a sharp wooden stave.

Despite the directness with which he approached, he created an impression of uncomfortable daring, as if he had some reason to believe that the Ramen might jeer at him. His gaze flicked fearfully about him, jumping away from rather than toward what he saw.

He had an air of blood about him that Covenant could not explain. He was clean, uninjured; neither spear nor spike showed recent use. Yet something in him spoke of blood, of killing and hunger. As the man reached the fire, Covenant realized that all the Ramen were sitting stiffly in their places—not moving, not eating, not looking at the stranger. They knew this man in a way that gave them pain.

After a moment, the man said aggressively, “Do you eat without me? I, too, need food.”

Manethrall Jain’s eyes did not raise themselves from the ground. “You are welcome, as you know. Join us or take what food you require.”

“Am I so welcome? Where are the salutes and words of greeting? Pah! You do not even gaze at me.”

But when Kam glared up from under his angry brows at the stranger, the man winced and looked away.

Jain said softly, “You have drunk blood.”

“Yes!” the man barked rapidly. “And you are offended. You understand nothing. If I were not the best runner and Ranyhyn-tender in the Plains of Ra, you would slay me where I stand without a moment’s concern for your promises.”

Darkly Kam muttered, “We are not so swift to forget promises.”

The stranger took no notice of Kam’s assertion. “Now I see guests among you. The Ringthane himself. And a Giant”—he drawled acerbically—“if my eyes do not mistake. Are Ravers also welcome?”

Covenant was surprised to hear Bannor speaking before either Jain or Kam could reply. “He is Saltheart Foamfollower.” The Bloodguard’s alien inflection carried an odd note of intensity, as if he were communicating a crucial fact.

“Saltheart Foamfollower!” the stranger jeered. But he did not meet the Giant’s gaze. “Then you are already certain that he is a Raver.”

Kam said, “We are uncertain.”

Still the man ignored him. “And the Ringthane—the tormentor of horses. Does he also Rave? He holds his proper place—at the right hand of a Bloodguard. This is a proud feast—all the crudest foes of the Ranyhyn together. And welcome!”

At this, Jain’s tone tightened. “You also are welcome. Join us—or take what food you require and go.”

A Winhome moved hesitantly toward the stranger, carrying a leaf laden with food. He caught it from her hands brusquely. “I will go. I hear your heart deny your words. I am not proud or welcome enough to eat with such as these.” At once, he turned sarcastically on his heel, strode back the way he had come. Moments later, he had left the covert as abruptly as he had entered.

Covenant stared uncomprehendingly after him, then looked toward the Manethralls for some explanation. But they sat glowering at their food as if they could not meet either his eyes or each other’s. Foamfollower also showed no understanding of what had happened. Lena had not noticed it; she was half asleep where she sat. Covenant turned to Bannor.

The Bloodguard faced Covenant’s question squarely, answered it with the same dispassionate intensity. “He is Pietten.”

“Pietten,” Covenant repeated dismally. And Foamfollower echoed thickly, “Pietten!”

“He and the Heer Llaura were saved by the Quest for the Staff of Law at the battle of Soaring Woodhelven. Do you remember? Llaura and the child Pietten were damaged—”

“I remember,” Covenant answered bitterly. “The ur-viles did something to them. They were used to bait the trap. She—she—” The memory appalled him. Llaura had been horribly abused, and all her great courage had not sufficed to overcome what had been done to her. And the child, Pietten—the child, too, had been abused.

Across Covenant’s dismay, Foamfollower said, “We bore both Heer Llaura and Pietten to the Plains of Ra and Manhome.” Covenant remembered that the Giant had carried Pietten in his arms. “There, at the request of the Ringthane and—and myself—the Ramen took Llaura and Pietten into their care.”

Bannor nodded. “That is the promise of which he spoke.”

“Llaura?” asked Covenant weakly.