White Gold Wielder (45 page)

But she saw at once that Covenant had no intention of denying the possibility of hope. No bitterness showed beyond his empathy for Pitchwife: his alloyed despair and determination were clean of gall. Nor did he suggest that Pitchwife and the First should Join Mistweave. Instead he said as if he were content, “That’s good. Meet us in the forehall at noon, and we’ll get started.”

Then he met Linden’s gaze. “I want to go look at Honninscrave’s grave.” His tone thickened momentarily. “Say goodbye to him. Will you come with me?”

In response, she went to him and hugged him so that he would understand her silence.

Together they left Pitchwife sitting on the rim of the city. As they neared the entrance to Revelstone, they heard the cry of his flute again. It sounded as lorn as the call of a kestrel against the dust-trammeled sky.

Gratefully Linden entered the great Keep, where she was shielded from the desert sun. Relief filled her nerves as she and Covenant moved down into the depths of Revelstone, back to the Hall of Gifts.

Cail accompanied them. Beneath his impassivity she sensed a strange irresolution, as if he wanted to ask a question or boon and did not believe he had the right. But when they reached their goal, she forgot his unexplained emanations.

During Covenant’s battle with Gibbon, and the rending of the Raver, she had taken scant notice of the cavern itself. All her attention had been focused on what was happening and on the blackness which Gibbon had called up in her. As a result, she had not registered the extent to which the Hall and its contents had been damaged. But she saw the havoc now, felt its impact.

Around the walls, behind the columns, in the corners and distant reaches, much of the Land’s ancient artwork remained intact. But the center of the cavern was a shambles. Tapestries had been cindered, sculptures split, paintings shredded. Cracks marked two of the columns from crown to pediment; hunks of stone had been ripped from the ceiling, the floor; the mosaic on which Gibbon had stood was a ruin. Centuries of human effort and aspiration were wrecked by the uncontainable forces Covenant and the Raver had unleashed.

For a moment, Covenant’s gaze appeared as ravaged as the Hall. No amount of certainty could heal the consequences of what he had done—and had failed to do.

While she stood there, caught between his pain and the Hall’s hurt, she did not immediately recognize that most of the breakage had already been cleared away. But then she saw Nom at work, realized what the Sandgorgon was doing.

It was collecting pieces of rock, splinters of sculpture, shards of pottery, any debris it was able to lift between the stumps of his forearms, and it was using those fragments meticulously to raise a cairn for Honninscrave.

The funerary pile was already taller than Linden; but Nom was not yet satisfied with it. With swift care, the beast continued adding broken art to the mound. The rubble was too crude to have any particular shape. Nevertheless Nom moved around and around it to build it up as if it were an icon of the distant gyre of Sandgorgons Doom.

This was Nom’s homage to the Giant who had enabled it to rend Gibbon-Raver. Honninscrave had contained and controlled
samadhi
Sheol so that the Raver could not possess Nom, not take advantage of Nom’s purpose and power. In that way, he had made it possible for Nom to become something new, a Sandgorgon of active mind and knowledge and volition. With this cairn, Nom acknowledged the Master’s sacrifice as if it had been a gift.

The sight softened Covenant’s pain. Remembering Hergrom and Ceer, Linden would not have believed that she might ever feel anything akin to gratitude toward a Sandgorgon. But she had no other name for what she felt as she watched Nom work.

Though it lacked ordinary sight or hearing, the beast appeared to be aware of its onlookers. But it did not stop until it had augmented Honninscrave’s mound with the last rubble large enough for its arms to lift. Then, however, it turned abruptly and strode toward Covenant.

A few paces in front of him, it stopped. With its back-bent knees, it lowered itself to the floor, touched its forehead to the stone.

He was abashed by the beast’s obeisance. “Get up,” he muttered. “Get up. You’ve earned better than this.” But Nom remained prostrate before him as if it deemed him worthy of worship.

Unexpectedly Cail spoke for the Sandgorgon. He had recovered his
Haruchai
capacity for unsurprise. He reported the beast’s thoughts as if he were accustomed to them.

“Nom desires you to comprehend that it acknowledges you. It will obey any command. But it asks that you do not command it. It wishes to be free. It wishes to return to its home in the Great Desert and its bound kindred. From the rending of the Raver, Nom has gained knowledge to unmake Sandgorgons Doom—to release its kind from pent fury and anguish. It seeks your permission to depart.”

Linden felt that she was smiling foolishly; but she could not stop herself. Fearsome though the Sandgorgons were, she had hated the idea of their plight from the moment when Pitchwife had told her about it. “Let it go,” she murmured to Covenant. “Kasreyn had no right to trap them like that in the first place.”

He nodded slowly, debating with himself. Then he made his decision. Facing the Sandgorgon, he said to Cail, “Tell it, it can go. I understand it’s willing to obey me, and I say it can go. It’s free. But,” he added sharply, “I want it to leave the
Bhrathair
alone. Those people have the right to live, too. And God knows I’ve already done them enough damage. I don’t want them to suffer any more because of me.”

Faceless, devoid of expression, the albino beast raised itself erect again. “Nom hears you,” Cail replied. To Linden’s percipience, his tone seemed to hint that he envied Nom’s freedom. “It will obey. Its folk it will teach obedience also. The Great Desert is wide, and the
Bhrathair
will be spared.”

Before he finished, the Sandgorgon burst into a run toward the doorway of the Hall. Eager for its future, it vanished up the stairs, speeding in the direction of the open sky. For a few moments, Linden felt its wide feet on the steps: their force seemed to make the stone Keep jangle. But then Nom passed beyond her range, and she turned from it as if it were a healed memory—as if in some unexpected way the deaths of Hergrom and Ceer and Honninscrave had been made bearable at last.

She was still smiling when Covenant addressed Cail. “We’ve got some time before noon.” He strove to sound casual; but the embers in his eyes were alight for her. “Why don’t you find us something to eat? We’ll be in Mhoram’s room.”

Cail nodded and left at once, moving with swift unhaste. His manner convinced Linden that she was reading him accurately: something had changed for him. He seemed willing, almost eager, to be apart from the man he had promised to protect.

But she had no immediate desire to question the
Haruchai
. Covenant had put his arm around her waist, and time was precious. Her wants would have appeared selfish to her if he had not shared them.

However, when they reached the court with the bright silver floor and the cracked stone, they found Sunder and Hollian waiting for them.

The Stonedownors had rested since Linden had last seen them, and they looked better for it. Sunder was no longer slack-kneed and febrile with exhaustion. Hollian had regained much of her young clarity. They greeted Covenant and Linden shyly, as if they were uncertain how far the Unbeliever and the Chosen had transcended them. But behind their shared mood, their differences were palpable to Linden. Unlike Sunder’s former life, Hollian’s had been one of acceptance rather than sacrifice. The delicate scars which laced her right palm were similar to the pale pain-lattice on his left forearm, but she had never taken anyone else’s blood. Yet since that time her role had been primarily one of support, aiding Sunder when he had first attuned himself to Memla’s
rukh
during the company’s journey toward Seareach as well as in his later use of the
krill
. It was he, guilt-sore and vehement, who hated the Clave, fought it—and had been vindicated. He had struck necessary blows on behalf of the Land, showing himself a fit companion for Giants and
Haruchai
, Covenant and Linden. Now he bore himself with a new confidence; and the silver light seemed to shine bravely in his eyes, as though he knew that his father would have been proud of him.

Hollian herself was proud of him. Her open gaze and gentle smile showed that she regretted nothing. The child she carried was a joy to her. Yet Linden saw something plainly unfinished in the eh-Brand. Her emanations were now more complex than Sunder’s. She looked like a woman who knew that she had not yet been tested. And she wanted that test, wanted to find the destiny which she wore about her like the raven-wings of her lustrous hair. She was an eh-Brand, rare in the Land. She wished to learn what such rareness meant.

Covenant gave Linden a glance of wry rue; but he accepted the untimely presence of the Stonedownors without protest. They were his friends, and his surety included them.

In response to Covenant’s greeting, Sunder said with abrupt awkwardness, “Thomas Covenant, what is your purpose now?” His recent accomplishments had not given him an easy manner. “Forgive us that we intrude upon you. Your need for rest is plain.” His regard told Linden that her fatigue was more obvious than Covenant’s. “Should you elect to remain here for any number of days, the choice would become you. In times past”—his scowl was a mix of self-mockery and regret—“I have questioned you, accusing you of every madness and all pain.” Covenant made a gesture of dismissal; but Sunder hastened to continue, “I do not question you now. You are the Earthfriend, Illender and Prover of Life—and my friend. My doubt is gone.

“Yet,” he went on at once, “we have considered the Sunbane. The eh-Brand foretells its course. With Sunstone and
krill
, I have felt its power. The quenching of Banefire and Clave is a great work—but the Sunbane is not diminished. The morrow’s sun will be a sun of pestilence. It reigns still upon the Land, and its evil is clear.”

His voice gathered strength and determination as he spoke. “Thomas Covenant, you have taught me the falsehood of the Clave. I had believed the Land a gallow-fells, a punishing place conceived by a harsh Master. But I have learned that we are born for beauty rather than ill—that it is the Sunbane which is evil, not the life which the Sunbane torments.” His gaze glinted keenly. “Therefore I find that I am not content. The true battle is yet before us.” He was not as tall as Covenant; but he was broader and more muscular. He looked as solid as the stone of his home. “Thus I ask, what is your purpose now?”

The question distressed Covenant. His certainty could not protect him from his own empathy. He concealed his pain; but Linden saw it with her health-sense, heard it in the gruffness of his reply. “You’re not content,” he muttered. “Nobody’s content. Well, you ought to be.” Beneath the surface, he was as taut as a fraying bowstring. “You’ve done enough. You can leave the Sunbane to me—to me and Linden. I want you to stay here.”

“Stay—” The Graveler was momentarily too surprised to understand. “Do you mean to depart from us?” Hollian placed a hand on his arm, not to restrain him, but to add her concern to his.

“Yes!” Covenant snapped more strongly than necessary. But at once he steadied himself. “Yes. That’s what I want. You’re the future of the Land. There’s nobody else. The people the Clave let live are all too old or sick to do much, or too young to understand. You two are the only ones left who know what’s happened, what it means. What the life of the Land should be like. If anything happens to you, most of the survivors won’t even know the Clave was wrong. They’ll go on believing those lies because there won’t be anybody around to contradict them. I need you to tell them the truth. I can’t risk you.”

Linden thought he would say, Please.
Please
. But Sunder’s indignation was vivid in the sharp light. “Risk, ur-Lord?” he rasped as soon as Covenant stopped. “Is it risk you fear? Or do you deem us unworthy to partake of your high purpose? Do you forget who we are?” His hand gripped at the
krill
wrapped and hidden within his jerkin. “Your world is otherwhere, and to it you will return when your task is done. But we are the Land. We are the life which remains. We will not sit in safety while the outcome of that life is determined!”

Covenant stood still under Sunder’s outburst; but the small muscles around his eyes flinched as if he wanted to shout, What’s the matter with you? We’re going to face Lord Foul! I’m trying to spare you! Yet his quietness held.

“You’re right,” he said softly—more softly than Linden’s desire to defend him. “You are the life of the Land. And I’ve already taken everything else away from you. Your homes, your families, your identities—I’ve spent them all and let you bear the cost. Don’t you understand? I want to give something back. I want you to have a
future
.” The one thing he and Linden did not possess. “So your son will have at least that much chance to be born and grow up healthy.” The passion underlying his tone reminded her that he had a son whom he had not seen for eleven years. He might have been crying, Let me do this for you! “Is safety such a terrible price to pay?”

Hollian appeared to waver, persuaded by Covenant’s unmistakable concern. But Sunder did not. His anger was swept out of him; his resolution remained. Thickly he said, “Pardon my unseemly ire. Thomas Covenant, you are my friend in all ways. Will you grant to me your white ring, that I may ward you from the extremity of the Land’s plight?” He did not need to wait for Covenant’s answer. “Neither will I cede to you the meaning of my life. You have taught me to value that meaning too highly.”

Abruptly he dropped his gaze. “If it is her wish, Hollian will abide here. The son she bears is ours together, but that choice must be hers.” Then his eyes fixed Covenant squarely again. “I will not part from you until I am content.”

For a moment, the Graveler and Covenant glared at each other; and Linden held her breath. But then Hollian broke the intensity. Leaning close to Sunder, grinning as if she meant to bite his ear, she breathed, “Son of Nassic, you have fallen far into folly if you credit that I will be divided from you in the name of simple safety.”