Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (15 page)

“In the wrong hands, it’s still pretty strong. Which is why you can create

Falls with it”-the statement was a sneer-“and why Foul was able to kill me. But it doesn’t really come alive until the person it belongs to chooses to use it. Foul might not even have been able to kill me if I hadn’t given him my ring voluntarily. And I did not choose to destroy the Arch.” Covenant’s tone suggested that now he wondered why he had bothered to choose at all. “Since he wasn’t the rightful wielder, the power he unleashed only made me stronger.

“Well,” he snorted, “Joan is the rightful wielder of her ring. But she isn’t choosing anything. All she’s really trying to do is scream. Turiya has her. He feeds her pain. But that only aggravates her craziness. He can’t make her choose because she’s already lost. Oh, he could force her to hand her ring to someone else. But it wouldn’t be her choice. And the ring wouldn’t belong to whoever got it.”

Covenant drank again, and his manner

resumed its drift toward somnolence. For what Foul really wants, Joan and her ring are pretty much useless. They’re just a gambit. A ploy. The danger is real enough, but it won’t set him free. Or help him accomplish any of his other goals. He’s counting on you for that. It’s all about manipulating you so you’ll serve him.”

The idea made Linden wince. His other goals-Through Anele, the Despiser had suggested that he did not merely

wish to escape the Arch of Time. There is more, he had said, but of my deeper purpose I will not speak.

“Serve him how?” Fear which she could not suppress undermined her voice.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Covenant said through a yawn. “He hides from me in all kinds of ways. I can’t tell where he’s keeping Jeremiah, or where he is himself, or what he thinks you’re going

to do. All I know for sure is, the danger’s real. And I can stop it.”

In spite of her concern, Linden recognized her cue: she was supposed to ask him how. He had blamed her for everything that had happened since she had formed her Staff. Now he would offer to ease her guilt and responsibility.

She assumed that he wanted his ring. How else could he possibly intervene in

the Despiser’s designs? Surely he needed his instrument of power? It belonged to him.

Like Joan, he could not exert wild magic without his ring.

With it a master may form perfect works and fear nothing.

But she was not ready for that. Not yet. She could not rid herself of the sensation that he was speaking off

key; that his attitude or his drinking obliquely falsified whatever he said. And the fact that he had not already asked for his ring-or demanded it-troubled her. So far, he had given her explanations which made sense. Nevertheless, instinctively, she suspected him of misdirection. In spite of her relief, her apprehension was growing.

Instead of following his lead, she said, “Wait a minute. You’re getting ahead of

me. I think I understand why the caesures haven’t destroyed everything. But are you also saying that they won’t? That they can’t break the Arch?”

Covenant’s head lolled toward

Jeremiah. “I told you she was going to do this,” he remarked. “Didn’t I tell you she was going to do this?”

Jeremiah grinned at him. “That’s my Mom.”

Nodding, the Unbeliever faced Linden again. “You’re just like I remember you. You never let anything go.”

He spread his hands as if to show her that he was helpless. “Oh, eventually they’ll destroy everything. You’ve been through two of them now. You know what they’re like. Part of what they do is take you inside the mind of whoever created them. You’ve been in Joan’s mind. You should ask that callow puppy who follows you around what it’s

like being in your mind.”

Before she could react to his sarcasm, he added, “Another part, the part that feels like hornets burrowing into your skin, is time itself. It’s all those broken moments being stirred together.

“And another part-the part that’s just freezing cold emptiness forever-” Covenant made a visible effort to appear earnest. “Linden, that’s the future. The eventual outcome of Joan’s

craziness. Even that probably won’t bring down the Arch. But there won’t be anything left inside it. No Land, no Earth, no beings of any kind, no past or present or future. No life. Just freezing cold emptiness that can’t escape to consume eternity because it’s still being contained.”

Involuntarily Linden shivered. She remembered too well the featureless wasteland within the Falls, gelid and infinitely unrelieved. She herself had

created an instance of that future-and she could not claim the excuse that she had not known what she was doing.

All right,” she acceded. “I think I understand.” Instead of probing him further, she gave him the question that he had tried to prompt from her. “But how can you stop any of this? You said that you know what to do. What do you mean?”

Wild magic was the keystone of the Arch of Time. How could he step out of his position within its structure-exist in two places at once—and wield power, any kind of power, without causing that structure to crumble?

Earlier in the day, Esmer had said, That which appears evil need not have been so from the beginning, and need not remain so until the end. Had he intended his peroration about the Viles and their descendants as a kind of

parable? An oblique commentary on the discrepancy between who Covenant was and how he behaved?

“Hell and blood, Linden,” Covenant slurred. “Of course I know what to do. Why else do you suppose I’m here? You can’t possibly believe I’m putting myself through all this”-he gestured vaguely around the room-“not to mention everything I have to do to protect the Arch-just because I want to watch you try to talk yourself out of

trusting me.”

“Then tell me.” Tell me that you want your ring. Tell me what I can do to rescue my son. “Tell me how you’re going to save the Land.”

She wanted to speak more strongly; ached for the simple self-assurance to jar him out of his lethargy. But he baffled her. And the eroded look in Jeremiah’s eyes seemed to leach away her determination. She had no firm

ground under her: yearning weakened her wherever she tried to place her feet.

Covenant squinted, apparently trying to bring his glazed vision into focus. That depends on you.”

“How?’ She gripped the Staff with both hands so that they would not quaver. “All I have is questions. I don’t have any answers.”

“But you have this one,” he said like a sigh. His gaze drifted to the hearth; filled itself with reflected flames. “That ring under your shirt belongs to me. Are you going to give it to me or not’?”

Linden lowered her head to hide her sudden chagrin. She had expected his request; had practically demanded it. But now she realized that she did not know how to respond. How could she make such a choice? His ring was all that she had left of the man whom she

had loved: it meant too much to her. And she wanted it; wanted every scrap of power or effectiveness that she could obtain. Through Anele, Covenant himself had told her that she would need it.

But if Covenant had indeed been perfected in death, so that he could wield wild magic without fear, she had no right to refuse him. He might be capable of recreating the entire Earth in any image that he desired. If she

kept his wedding band, she would bear the blame for all of the Land’s peril and Jeremiah’s suffering and her own plight.

“Just hand it over,” Covenant continued as reasonably as his sleepy voice allowed. “Then you can stop worrying about everything. Even Jeremiah. I’m already part of the Arch. With my ring, there won’t be anything I can’t do. Send the Demondim back where they belong? No problem. Finish off

Kastenessen so he and the skurj and Kevin’s Dirt can’t bother us anymore? Consider it done. Create a cyst in time around Foul to make him helpless forever? I won’t even break a sweat.

All you have to do,” he insisted with more force, “is stop dithering and give me the damn ring. You’ll get your son back, and your troubles will be over.”

He held out his halfhand, urging her to place his ring in his palm.

The Thomas Covenant who had spoken to her in her dreams would not have asked for his ring in that way. He would have explained more and demanded less; would have been more gentle—

Almost involuntarily, she looked to Jeremiah for help, guidance. But his attention was focused on Covenant: he did not so much as glance at her.

And in the background of Covenant’s

voice, she heard Roger saying outside Joan’s room in Berenford Memorial, It belongs to me. I need it.

Once before, Linden had restored a white gold ring. Directly or indirectly, that mistake had led her to her present straits. It had made possible her son’s imprisonment in agony.

“Covenant, this is hard for me.” A tremor of supplication and dread marred her voice: she could not control

it. “I need to know more about what it means.

“You swore to me. After the Banefire. You swore that you were never going to use power again.”

“That was then.” His brief intensity faded as the springwine seemed to renew its numbness. “This is now. In case you haven’t noticed, everything’s changed. Just being here uses staggering amounts of power. And how

do you suppose I stopped Foul after I surrendered my ring? For something like forever, I’ve done nothing but use power.”

Linden could not argue with him. But his response was not enough. “Then tell me this,” she said, groping for knowledge that might shed light on her dilemma. “Where did Jeremiah get the force to push me away’?” As far as she knew, her son had no lore-and no instrument of theurgy. His only

inherent magic was his need for her; his ability to inspire her love. When did he become powerful’?”

“Oh, that.” Covenant flapped his halfhand dismissively. “He has talents you can’t imagine. All he needs is the right stuff to work with. In this case, folding time-being in two places at once-I’m bending a lot of Laws. There’s bound to be a certain amount of leakage. Think of it like blood from a wound. Your kid is using it. As long as I

can keep him here-as long as you don’t erase us”-for an instant, his eyes flickered redly-“he’s pretty strong.”

Again his voice conveyed the impression that it was out of tune; that he could not find the right notes for what he said.

Without looking away from Covenant, Jeremiah put in, “I’ve been visiting the Land for a long time, Mom. I learned a

lot about magic. But it didn’t do me any good until Covenant brought me here.” His smile was not for Linden. “I mean to Revelstone. Until he gave me my mind back.

“I can’t make something out of nothing. But when I have the right materials, I can build all kinds of doors. And walls.”

Both of them were trying to reassure her, but her alarm increased nonetheless. She could not doubt

them, and did not know how to believe them. Her son had become a kind of mage, incomprehensible to her. And Covenant sounded—

Doom seemed to ride on all of her choices, and she had not been convinced.

“So what happens,” she asked, still trembling, if I don’t give up your ring? What will you do if I refuse? Take it?”

Had he changed that much?

If she spurned Covenant’s aid, she might spend days or weeks or months hunting for Jeremiah’s prison. She would almost certainly fail to reach him in time to save his tortured mind.

Covenant dropped his hand; looked down to drink from his flagon, then turned his head to meet Jeremiah’s silted gaze. “I told you that, too, didn’t 17’ His voice was full of dreary

bitterness. “I told you she wouldn’t trust me.”

Jeremiah nodded. “Yes, you did.”

Still facing the boy, Covenant informed Linden sourly, “Of course I’m not going to take it. I can’t get that close to you. But I know you, so I came prepared. I still know what to do.”

Slowly he swung back toward her; but he did not meet her gaze. His head

hung at a defeated angle, and the firelight cast shadows across his eyes. A faint red heat like embers glowed in the depths of his darkened eyes.

If you won’t let me have my ring, what will you do? What do you think you can accomplish? You’ve got Esmer and a hundred or so ur-viles on one side, and the Demondim with the II!earth Stone on the other. Kevin’s Dirt is going to blind you over and over again. You don’t know where to look for Jeremiah.

Joan will keep making caesures. Kastenessen and the skurj are out there, not to mention the Elohim and who knows how many other powers. The Masters don’t like you, and your only friends are three Ramen, a crazy old man, a kid who’s as ignorant as a stone, and one outcast Haruchai.

“What exactly do you propose to do about all that?”

Linden hardly knew how to face him;

yet she did not fall or falter. Instead she held up her head, drew back her shoulders. If Covenant thought to daunt her with his recitation of dangers, he had forgotten their time together, forgotten who she had become. And he could not weaken her by disdaining her friends. She knew them better than he did.

He was asking her about decisions which she had already made.

Searching his hidden eyes for embers, she announced as though she were certain, “I’ll put a stop to the Demondim. Then I’m going to take my friends and ride like hell to Andelain. I want to talk to the Dead. They helped you once when you had no idea how to save the Land. Maybe they’ll do the same for me.”

And it was conceivable that the krill of Loric still remained where Sunder had left it, stabbed deep into the blasted

tree stump of Caer-Caveral’s body. Such a weapon might enable her to channel the combined force of Covenant’s ring and the Staff of Law safely.

Groaning, Jeremiah buried his face in his hands as if he were ashamed of his mother.

“Hellfire!” Abruptly Covenant slammed the front legs of his stool down onto the floor. With his halfhand, he covered his

eyes as if to mask a burst of flame. Then he dragged his touch down his features; and as he did so, every vestige of his drunkenness was pulled away. Almost without transition, he became the man who had ridden a failing horse into the forehall of Revelstone: commanding and severe, beyond compromise.