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TheWoundedLand(TheSecondChroniclesofThomasCovenanttheUnbeliever,Book1)isaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitherareproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.

ADelReyeBookEdition

Copyright©1980byStephenR.Donaldson

AllRightsReserved.

PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyDelRey,animprintofTheRandomHousePublishingGroup,adivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.,NewYork.

OriginallypublishedinHardcoverin1980byDelRey,animprintoftheRandomHousePublishingGroup,adivisionofRandomHouse,

Inc.,NewYork.

DelReyandtheDelReycolophonareregisteredtrademarksofRandomHouse,Inc.

eISBN:978-0-307-81920-8

www.delreybooks.com

v3.1

Contents

CoverTitlePageCopyrightMapWhatHasGoneBeforePROLOGUE:Choice1:Daughter2:SomethingBroken3:Plight

PARTI:Need4:“YouAreMine”

5:ThunderandLightning6:TheGraveler7:Marid8:TheCorruptionoftheSun9:River-Ride10:ValeofCrystal11:TheCorruptionofBeauty

PARTII:Vision12:TheAndelainianHills13:Demondim-Spawn

14:Pursuit15:“BecauseYouCanSee”16:TheWeirdoftheWaynhim17:Blood-Speed18:RevelstoneinRain19:Soothtell

PARTIII:Purpose20:TheQuest21:Sending22:PlainofFire23:SarangraveFlat

24:TheSearch25:“IntheNameofthePureOne”26:Coercri27:GiantfriendGlossaryDedicationOtherBooksbyThisAuthor

WHATHASGONEBEFORE

Afteraninfectioncausesthe amputation of twofingers, Thomas Covenantlearns he has leprosy.Onceapopularauthor,heis now a pariah to hiscommunity.Hiswife Joandivorceshim.Lonely and bitter, hemeets an old beggar whotells him to “be true.”

Confused by the oddencounter, he stumbles infront of a car and reviveson a high mountain in astrange world. After anevil voice of one calledLord Foul gives him amessage of doom for theLordsoftheLand,heisleddown to the village ofMithilStonedownbyLena.There Covenant isconsidered the

reincarnation of thelegendaryBerekHalfhand,thefirstHighLord,andhiswhitegoldweddingringisregarded as a talisman ofgreat power, capable ofwildmagic.Lena heals him with

hurtloammud.Hissuddenrecovery is more than hecan bear, and he rapesLena. Despite this, Lena’smother Atiaran agrees to

guide Covenant toRevelstone, home of theLords. Covenant callshimself the Unbelieverbecause he cannot believein the magic of the Land.He fears it is merely adelirious escape fromreality.A friendly Giant,Saltheart Foamfollower,takes Covenant toRevelstone, where he is

greetedasanur-Lord.TheLordsareshockedatFoul’smessage that an evilCavewight holds thepowerful Staff of Law,withoutwhichtheycannotovercome Foul’s plot toruin the Land. They mustrescue the Staff from theCavewight caverns underMount Thunder. Covenantgoes with them, guardedby Bannor, one of the

Bloodguard who havetaken an ancient vow toprotecttheLords.After many encounters

with Foul’s evil creatures,they rescue the Staff fromtheCavewights.TheLordsescape when Covenant—without knowing how—somehow uses the wildmagic of his ring. ButCovenant begins to fadeandwakes in a hospital a

few hours after hisaccident—though monthspassedintheLand.A few weeks later,Covenantrushestoanswera call from Joan, only tostumbleandknockhimselfout.Heagainfindshimselfin the Land—where fortyyears have passed. TheLords are desperate. Foulhas found the IllearthStone, a source of evil

power, and prepares toattack. The weaker armyoftheLordsiscommandedby Hile Troy, who alsocomes from the “real”Earth. The High Lord isnow Elena, Covenant’sdaughter by Lena. Shegreetshimasasavior.A force of Bloodguard

andLordsissenttoCoercrito ask help of the Giants.But there Foul has

possessed three Giants tohouse the spirits of hisancient Raver lieutenants.The other Giants aremonstrously murdered.The surviving Lorddestroys one Giant-Raver,andtheBloodguardseizeapiece of the Illearth Stoneto return it to Revelstone.ButtheLorddiesbeforehecan warn them of itsdanger.

HileTroytakeshisarmysouth, accompanied byLord Mhoram, Covenant’sfriend. Foul’s army iscommanded by anotherGiant-Raver, and Troy isforced to flee toGarrotingDeep,aforestprotectedbyan ancient, mysteriousForestal, CaerroilWildwood. The Forestalsaves Troy’s army butcommands that Troy

become an apprenticeForestal.Elena has taken

Covenant and Bannor toMelenkurion Skyweir, amountain near GarrotingDeep.Insidethemountain,Elena drinks from thewater called theEarthBlood,andthusgainsthe Power of Command.She summons the spirit ofKevin, an ancient Lord,

and orders him to destroyFoul. But Foul overcomesKevin and sendshimbacktodragElenaandtheStaffto their doom within themountain.Covenant and Bannor

escape down a river, tomeet with Mhoram. Butagain Covenant fades, tocome to in his own livingroom.Filled with guilt, he

neglects himself andwanders the country atnight. Then he encountersa little girl endangered byasnake.Hesavesher,butis bitten.Againhe returnsto the Land—to Kevin’sWatch where he firstappeared in the Land. Hehas been summoned by asurviving Foamfollowerand Triock, Lena’s formerlover, who has overcome

hishatredofCovenant forthe good of the Land. InMithil Stonedown,covenantagainmeetsLena—a crazed woman whoclaimstohavekeptherselfyoung for love ofCovenant, though she isoldnow.During the seven years

since the Staff was lost,things have grown worsefor the Land. Mhoram is

about to be besieged inRevelstone,andnoplaceissafe. Only Covenant candestroy Foul with thepower of the ring, theybelieve. Finally Covenantsetsoutforfoul’sCrecheinthe far east, accompaniedby Foamfollower, Triockand Lena. They seek helpfrom theRamen, a peoplewho serve the greatRanyhyn, the wild horses

of the plains. But theRamen are betrayed. Lenagives her life to saveCovenant, but he isseriouslywounded.He is saved by an

Unfettered One andhealed. He meetsFoamfollower and Triock—buttheyarecapturedbyaRaverandbroughttotheColossus that guards theUpper Land. There the

ghost of Elena tries todestroy them, since shehasbeenenslavedbyFoul.With his ring, Covenantovercomes her anddestroys the Staff sheholds.He and Foamfollower

continue down into theLower Land toward Foul’sCreche. They are helpedby the jheherrin, pitifulcreatures of living mud,

and finally penetrate thestronghold of Foul. There,with the courage ofFoamfollower to help,Covenantdiscovershowtotapthepowerofthering—though stillwithout reallyunderstanding it.Whereupon he overcomesFoul and destroys theIllearthStone.He seems to be

destroyed also. But the

Creator of thisworld—theold beggar who first toldhim to “be true”—saveshim. After showingCovenantthatMhoramhasalsotriumphedagainsttheforces of evil—by usingthekrill,aswordactivatedby Covenant’s presence inthe Land—the Creatorsendshimbacktohisownworld.Satisfied that the Land

will survive, Covenantwillingly faces thechallenge of making hiswayas a leper inhis owntime and place. And forsome ten years, he doesface that challenge, withno further summons fromtheLand.Herebegins“TheSecondChronicles of ThomasCovenant”.

Gallow-fells

PROLOGUE:Choice

ONE:Daughter

When Linden Averyheard the knock at herdoor, she groaned aloud.Shewas in a blackmood,and did not want visitors.Shewantedacold showerand privacy—a chance toaccustom herself to thedeliberate austerity of hersurroundings.She had spent most of

the afternoon of anunnaturally muggy day inthe middle of springmoving herself into thisapartment which theHospital had rented forher, lugging her sparsewardrobe, her inadequatefurniture, and a back-breaking series ofcardboard boxescontaining textbooks fromher middle-aged sedan up

the outside stairs to thesecond floor of the oldwooden house. The housesquatted among its weedslike a crippled toad,spavinedbyantiquity;andwhen she had unlockedherapartment for the firsttime,shehadbeengreetedbythreeroomsandabathwith grubby yellowwalls,floorboards covered onlybychippedbeigepaint,an

atmosphere of desuetudebordering on indignity—and by a piece of paperwhich must have beenslipped under the door.Thickredlineslikelipstickor freshbloodmarked thepaper—a large crudetriangle with two wordsinsideit:

JESUSSAVES

She had glared at thepaper for a moment, thenhad crumpled it in herpocket.Shehadnouseforoffers of salvation. Shewanted nothing she didnotearn.But the note, combined

with the turgid air, thelong exertion of heavingher belongings up thestairs, and the apartmentitself, left her feeling

capable of murder. Theroomsremindedherofherparents’ house. That waswhy she hated theapartment. But it wascondign, and she chose toacceptit.Shebothloathedand approved the aptnessof her state. Its personalstringency wasappropriate.Shewas a doctor newly

out of residency, and she

hadpurposelysoughtajobwhich would bring her toa small half-rural, half-stagnanttownlikethisone—atownliketheonenearwhich she had been bornand her parents had died.Though she was onlythirty, she felt old,unlovely, and severe. Thiswas just; shehad lived anunlovely and severe life.Her father had diedwhen

shewaseight;hermother,whenshewasfifteen.Afterthree empty years in afoster home, she had putherself through college,then medical school,internship, and residency,specializing in FamilyPractice. She had beenlonelyeversinceshecouldremember, and herisolation had largelybecomeingrained.Hertwo

or three love affairs hadbeen like hygienicexercisesorexperimentsinphysiology; they had lefther untouched. So nowwhen she looked atherself, she saw severity,and the consequences ofviolence.Hardworkandclenched

emotionshadnothurt thegratuitous womanliness ofher body, or dulled the

essential luster of hershoulder-length wheatenhair, or harmed thestructural beauty of herface. Her driven and self-contained life had notchanged theway her eyesmisted and ran almostwithout provocation. Butlines had already markedher face, leaving her witha perpetual frown ofconcentration above the

bridge of her straight,delicate nose, and gullieslike the implications ofpain on either side of hermouth—a mouth whichhadoriginallybeenformedfor something moregenerous than the lifewhich had befallen her.Andhervoicehadbecomeflat, so that it soundedmorelikeadiagnostictool,awayofelicitingpertinent

data, than a vehicle forcommunication.But the way she had

livedherlifehadgivenhersomething more thanlonelinessandaliabilitytoblackmoods.Ithadtaughther to believe in her ownstrength. She was aphysician; she had heldlife and death in herhands, and had learnedhow to grasp them

effectively.Shetrustedherability to carry burdens.Whensheheardtheknockat her door, she groanedaloud. But then shestraightened her sweat-marked clothes as if sheweretuggingheremotionsinto order, and went toopenthedoor.She recognized theshort,wrymanwhostoodon the landing. He was

Julius Berenford, Chief ofStaff of the CountyHospital.He was the man who

had hired her to run hisOutpatient Clinic andEmergency Room. In amore metropolitanhospital, the hiring of aFamily Practitioner forsuchapositionwouldhavebeen unusual. But theCounty Hospital served a

regioncomposedlargelyoffarmers and hill people.Thistown,thecountyseat,had been calcifyingsteadily for twenty years.Dr. Berenford needed ageneralist.Thetopofhisheadwas

levelwithhereyes,andhewas twice her age. Theroundbulgeofhisstomachbelied the thinness of hislimbs. He gave an

impression of dyspepticaffection, as if he foundhuman behavior bothincomprehensible andendearing.Whenhesmiledbelow his whitemoustache, the pouchesunder his eyes tightenedironically.“Dr. Avery,” he said,

wheezing faintly after theexertionofthestairs.“Dr. Berenford.” She

wanted to protest theintrusion; so she steppedaside and said tightly,“Comein.”He entered the

apartment, glancingaround as he wanderedtoward a chair. “You’vealready moved in,” heobserved. “Good. I hopeyou had help gettingeverythinguphere.”She took a chair near

his, seated herselfsquarely,asifshewereonduty.“No.”Whocouldshehaveaskedforhelp?Dr. Berenford started to

expostulate. She stoppedhim with a gesture ofdismissal. “No problem.I’musedtoit.”“Well, you shouldn’t

be.” His gaze on her wascomplex. “You justfinished your residency at

a highly respectedhospital, and your workwas excellent. The leastyou should be able toexpect in life is helpcarrying your furnitureupstairs.”His tone was only half

humorous; but sheunderstoodtheseriousnessbehind it because thequestion had come upmore than once during

their interviews. He hadasked repeatedly whysomeone with hercredentialswantedajobinapoorcountyhospital.Hehad not accepted the glibanswers she had preparedfor him; eventually, shehad been forced to offerhim at least anapproximationofthefacts.“Both my parents diednearatownlikethis,”she

had said. “They werehardly middle-aged. Ifthey’dbeenunderthecareof a good FamilyPractitioner, they wouldbealivetoday.”This was both true andfalse,anditlayattherootof the ambivalence whichmade her feel old. If hermother’s melanoma hadbeenproperlydiagnosedintime, it could have been

treated surgically with aninety per cent chance ofsuccess.Andifherfather’sdepression had beenobservedbyanybodywithany knowledge or insight,his suicide might havebeen prevented. But thereverse was true as well;nothing could have savedherparents.Theyhaddiedbecause they were simplytoo ineffectual to go on

living. Whenever shethoughtaboutsuchthings,she seemed to feel herbonesgrowingmorebrittlebythehour.She had come to this

town because she wantedto try to help people likeher parents. And becauseshe wanted to prove thatshe could be effectiveunder such circumstances—thatshewasnotlikeher

parents. And because shewantedtodie.Whenshedidnotspeak,Dr. Berenford said,“However, that’s neitherhere nor there.” Thehumorlessness of hersilence appeared todiscomfit him. “I’m gladyou’re here. Is thereanything I can do? Helpyougetsettled?”Linden was about to

refuse his offer, out ofhabit if not conviction,whensheremembered thepiece of paper in herpocket.Onanimpulse,shedug it out, handed it tohim.“Thiscameunderthedoor.Maybeyouought totell me what I’m gettinginto.”Hepeeredatthetriangleand thewriting,muttered,“Jesus saves,” under his

breath, then sighed.“Occupational hazard. I’vebeen going to churchfaithfully in this town forfortyyears.ButsinceI’matrained professional whoearnsadecentliving,someof our good people”—hegrimaced wryly—“arealways trying to convertme. Ignorance is the onlyform of innocence theyunderstand.”He shrugged,

returned the note to her.“This area has beendepressed for a long time.After a while, depressedpeople do strange things.Theytrytoturndepressioninto a virtue—they needsomething to makethemselves feel lesshelpless. What theyusually do around here isbecome evangelical. I’mafraid you’re just going to

havetoputupwithpeoplewho worry about yoursoul. Nobody gets muchprivacyinasmalltown.”Linden nodded; but shehardly heard her visitor.She was trapped in asudden memory of hermother, weeping withpoignantself-pity.Shehadblamed Linden for herfather’sdeath—Witha scowl, shedrove

back the recollection. Herrevulsion was so strongthat she might haveconsented to having thememories physically cutout of her brain. But Dr.Berenford was watchingher as if her abhorrenceshowed on her face. Toavoidexposingherself,shepulled discipline over herfeatures like a surgicalmask. “What can I do for

you,doctor?”“Well,foronething,”he

said, forcing himself tosoundgenialinspiteofhertone, “you can call meJulius. I’m going to callyou Linden, so you mightaswell.”She acquiesced with a

shrug.“Julius.”“Linden.”Hesmiled;but

hissmiledidnotsoftenhisdiscomfort. After a

moment,hesaidhurriedly,as if he were trying tooutrunthedifficultyofhispurpose,“Actually, I cameover for two reasons. Ofcourse, I wanted towelcomeyouto town.ButI could have done thatlater. The truth is, I wanttoputyoutowork.”Work? she thought. Theword sparked aninvoluntary protest. I just

got here. I’m tired andangry, and I don’t knowhow I’m going to standthis apartment. Carefullyshe said, “It’s Friday. I’mnotsupposed tostartuntilMonday.”“This doesn’t haveanything to do with theHospital. It should, but itdoesn’t.”Hisgazebrushedher face like a touch ofneed. “It’s a personal

favor.I’minovermyhead.I’ve spent so many yearsgetting involved in thelives ofmy patients that Ican’t seem to makeobjective decisionsanymore. Or maybe I’mjust out of date—don’thave enough medicalknowledge. Seems to methat what I need is asecondopinion.”“About what?” she

asked, striving to soundnoncommittal.Butshewasgroaning inwardly. Shealready knew that shewould attempt to providewhatever he asked of her.Hewasappealingtoapartof her that had neverlearnedhowtorefuse.He frowned sourly.

“Unfortunately I can’t tellyou.It’sinconfidence.”“Oh,comeon.”Shewas

in no mood for guessinggames. “I took the sameoathyoudid.”“I know.” He raised his

handsasiftowardoffhervexation. “I know. But itisn’t exactly that kind ofconfidence.”She stared at him,

momentarily nonplussed.Wasn’t he talking about amedical problem? “Thissoundslikeit’sgoingtobe

quiteafavor.”“Could be. That’s up toyou.” Before she couldmuster the words to askhim what he was talkingabout, Dr. Berenford saidabruptly, “Have you everheard of ThomasCovenant? He writesnovels.”She felt him watchingher while she gropedmentally. But she had no

way of following his lineof thought. She had notreadanovelsinceshehadfinished her literaturerequirement in college.Shehadhadsolittletime.Striving for detachment,sheshookherhead.“He lives around here,”the doctor said. “Has ahouse outside town on anold property called HavenFarm. You turn right on

Main.” He gesturedvaguely toward theintersection. “Go throughthe middle of town, andabout two miles lateryou’ll come to it. On theright.He’saleper.”At the word leper, hermind bifurcated. This wastheresultofhertraining—dedication which hadmade her a physicianwithout resolving her

attitude toward herself.She murmured inwardly,Hansen’s disease, andbegan reviewinginformation.Mycobacterium lepra.Leprosy. It progressed bykilling nerve tissue,typicallyintheextremitiesand in the cornea of theeye. In most cases, thedisease could be arrestedby means of a

comprehensive treatmentprogram pivoting aroundDDS: diamino-diphenyl-sulfone.Ifnotarrested,thedegeneration couldproduce muscular atrophyand deformation, changesin skin pigmentation,blindness. It also left thevictimsubject toahostofsecondary afflictions, themost common of whichwas infection that

destroyed other tissues,leavingthevictimwiththeappearance—andconsequences—of havingbeeneatenalive.Incidencewas extremely rare;leprosywasnotcontagiousin any usual sense.Perhaps the onlystatisticallysignificantwaytocontractitwastosufferprolonged exposure as achild in the tropics under

crowded and unsanitarylivingconditions.But while one part ofher brain unwound itsskein of knowledge,another was tangled inquestions andemotions.Aleper?Here?Whytellme?She was torn betweenvisceral distaste andempathy.Thediseaseitselfattracted and repelled herbecauseitwasincurable—

as immedicable as death.She had to take a deepbreath before she couldask, “What do you wantmetodoaboutit?”“Well—” He was

studying her as if hethoughttherewereindeedsomething she could doabout it. “Nothing. Thatisn’twhyIbrought itup.”Abruptlyhegottohisfeet,began measuring out his

unease on the chippedfloorboards. Though hewas not heavy, theysqueaked vaguely underhim. “He was diagnosedearly enough—only losttwo fingers. One of ourbetter lab technicianscaught it, right here atCountyHospital.He’sbeenstable for more than nineyears now. The onlyreasonItoldyouistofind

out if you’re—squeamish.About lepers.” He spokewith a twisted expression.“Iusedtobe.ButI’vehadtimetogetoverit.”He did not give her achance to reply. He wenton as if he wereconfessing. “I’ve reachedthe point now where Idon’t think of him asleprosy personified. But Inever forget he’s a leper.”

He was talking aboutsomething for which hehad not been able toforgive himself. “Part ofthat’s his fault,” he saiddefensively. “He neverforgets, either. He doesn’tthinkofhimselfasThomasCovenant the writer—theman—the human being.He thinks of himself asThomas Covenant theleper.”

When she continued tostare at him flatly, hedropped his gaze. “Butthat’s not the point. Thepoint is, would it botheryoutogoseehim?”“No,” she said severely;but her severity was forherselfratherthanforhim.I’m a doctor. Sick peopleare my business. “But Istill don’t understandwhyyou want me to go out

there.”The pouches under hiseyes shook as if he werepleadingwithher.“Ican’ttellyou.”“Youcan’t tellme.”Thequietness of her tonebeliedtheblacknessofhermood.“WhatgooddoyouthinkIcanpossiblydoifIdon’t even know why I’mtalkingtohim?”“You could get him to

tell you.” Dr. Berenford’svoice sounded like themisery of an ineffectualold man. “That’s what Iwant.Iwanthimtoacceptyou—tellyouwhat’sgoingonhimself.SoIwon’thavetobreakanypromises.”“Let me get thisstraight,” She made nomore effort to concealheranger.“Youwantmetogoout there, and ask him

outright to tell me hissecrets. A total strangerarrives at his door, andwants to know what’sbothering him—for noother reason than becauseDr.Berenfordwouldlikeasecond opinion. I’ll belucky if he doesn’t haveme arrested fortrespassing.”For a moment, thedoctor faced her sarcasm

and indignation. Then hesighed. “I know. He’s likethat—he’d never tell you.He’s been locked intohimself so long—” Thenext instant, his voicebecame sharp with pain.“ButIthinkhe’swrong.”“Then tell me what it

is,”insistedLinden.His mouth opened and

shut; his hands madesupplicating gestures. But

thenherecoveredhimself.“No. That’s backward.FirstI need to know whichone of us iswrong. I owehim that. Mrs. Roman isno help. This is amedicaldecision. But I can’tmakeit.I’vetried,andIcan’t.”The simplicity withwhich he admitted hisinadequacy snared her.She was tired, dirty, and

bitter, and her mindsearchedforanescape.Buthis need for assistancestruck too close to thedrivingcompulsionsofherlife. Her hands wereknotted together likecertainty.Afteramoment,she looked up at him.Hisfeatures had sagged as ifthe muscles wereexhaustedbytheweightofhis mortality. In her flat

professional voice, shesaid, “Give me someexcuse Icanusetogooutthere.”She could hardly bear

the sight of his relief.“That I can do,” he saidwith a show of briskness.Reaching into a jacketpocket, he pulled out apaperback and handed ittoher.Theletteringacrossthedrabcoversaid:

OrIWillSellMySoulforGuilt

anovelbyTHOMASCOVENANT

“Ask forhisautograph.”The older man hadregained his sense ofirony. “Try to get himtalking. If you can getinside his defenses,somethingwillhappen.”Silently she cursed

herself. She knew nothingabout novels, had neverlearned how to talk tostrangers about anythingexcept their symptoms.Anticipations ofembarrassment filled herlike shame. But she hadbeenmortifyingherselfforso long that she had norespectleftforthepartsofher which could still feelshame. “After I see him,”

shesaiddully,“I’llwanttotalk toyou. Idon’thaveaphone yet. Where do youlive?”Her acceptance restored

his earlier manner; hebecamewryandsolicitousagain. He gave herdirections to his house,repeated his offer of help,thanked her for herwillingness to involveherself in Thomas

Covenant’s affairs. Whenhe left, she felt dimlyastonished thathedidnotappear to resent the needwhich had forced him todisplayhis futility in frontofher.Andyetthesoundofhisfeet descending the stairsgave her a sense ofabandonment, as if shehad been left to carryalone a burden that she

would never be able tounderstand.Foreboding nagged ather,butsheignoredit.Shehad no acceptablealternatives.Shesatwhereshe was for a moment,glaring around the blindyellowwalls,thenwenttotakeashower.After she had washedaway as much of theblackness as she could

reachwithsoapandwater,she donned a dull graydressthathadtheeffectofminimizingherfemininity,then spent a few minuteschecking the contents ofher medical bag. Theyalways seemed insufficient—there were so manythings she mightconceivably need whichshe could not carry withher—and now they

appeared to be aparticularly improvidentarsenal against theunknown. But she knewfrom experience that shewould have felt nakedwithout her bag. With asighof fatigue, she lockedthe apartment and wentdownthestairstohercar.Driving slowly to giveherself time to learnlandmarks, she followed

Dr. Berenford’s directionsand soon found herselfmovingthroughthecenteroftown.The late afternoon sun

andthethicknessoftheairmadethebuildingslookasiftheyweresweating.Thebusinesses seemed to leanaway from the hotsidewalks, as if they hadforgotten the enthusiasm,eventheaccessibility, that

they needed to survive;and the courthouse, withits dull white marble anditsroofsupportedbystonegiant heads atop ersatzGreek columns, lookedaltogether unequal to itsresponsibilities.The sidewalks wererelatively busy—peoplewere going home fromwork—but one smallgroup in front of the

courthouse caughtLinden’s eye. A fadedwoman with three smallchildren stood on thesteps.Sheworeashapelessshift which appeared tohave been made fromburlap; and the childrenwere dressed in gunnysacks. Her face was grayand blank, as if she wereinured by poverty andweariness to the

emaciationofherchildren.Allfourofthemheldshortwooden sticks bearingcrudesigns.The signs were marked

with red triangles. Insideeach triangle was writtenoneword:REPENT.The woman and her

children ignored thepassersby. They stooddumbly on the steps as ifthey were engaged in a

penance which stupefiedthem.Linden’sheartacheduselessly at the sight oftheir moral and physicalpenury.Therewasnothingshe could do for suchpeople.Threeminutes later, shewas outside themunicipallimits.Theretheroadbegantorun through tilled valleys,between wooded hills.

Beyond the town, theunseasonable heat andhumidity were kinder towhat they touched; theymade the air lambent, sothat it lay like immanenceacross the new crops, upthe tangled weed-and-grass hillsides, among thebudding trees; and hermoodliftedatthewaythelandscape glowed in theapproach of evening. She

had spent somuch of herlifeincities.Shecontinuedto drive slowly; shewanted to savor the fainthope that she had foundsomething she would beabletoenjoy.After a couple of miles,

she came to a wide fieldon her right, thicklyovergrown with milkweedand wild mustard. Acrossthe field, a quarter of a

mile away against a wallof trees, stood a whiteframehouse.Twoorthreeother houses bordered thefield, closer to thehighway; but the whiteone drew her attention asif it were the onlyhabitable structure in thearea.Adirt road ran into the

field.Brancheswenttotheotherhouses,butthemain

track led straight to thewhiteone.Beside the entrancestood a wooden sign.Despite faded paint andseveraloldsplinteredholeslike bullet scars, thelettering was still legible:HavenFarm.Gripping her courage,Linden turned onto thedirtroad.Without warning, the

periphery of her gazecaught a flick of ochre. Arobed figure stood besidethesign.What—?He stood there as if hehad just appeared out oftheair.Aninstantago,shehad seen nothing exceptthesign.Taken by surprise, sheinstinctively twitched thewheel, trying to evade a

hazard she had alreadypassed. At once, sherighted the sedan, steppedon the brakes. Her eyesjumped to the rearviewmirror.She saw an old man in

anochrerobe.Hewastalland lean, barefoot, dirty.His long gray beard andthin hair flared about hisheadlikefrenzy.He took one step into

the road toward her, thenclutched at his chestconvulsively, andcollapsed.She barked a warning,

though there was no oneto hear it. Moving with aceleritythatfelt likeslow-motion, she cut theignition, grabbed for herbag,pushedopenthedoor.Apprehension roiled inher, fear of death, of

failure; but her trainingcontrolledit.Inamoment,she was at the old man’sside.He looked strangely out

ofplaceintheroad,outoftime in the world sheknew. The robe was hisonlygarment; it lookedasif hehadbeen living in itfor years. His featuresweresharp,madefiercebydestitution or fanaticism.

The declining sunlightcolored his withered skinlikedeadgold.Hewasnotbreathing.Her disciplinemade hermove. She knelt besidehim,felt forhispulse.Butwithin her shewailed.Hebore a sickeningresemblance to her father.If her father had lived tobecome old and mad, hemight have been this

stricken,preteritefigure.Hehadnopulse.He revolted her. Herfather had committedsuicide. Peoplewho killedthemselves deserved todie. The old man’sappearance brought backmemories of her ownscreamingwhichechoedinherearsasifitcouldneverbesilenced.But he was dying.

Already his muscles hadslackened, relaxing thepain of his seizure. Andshewasadoctor.With the sureness of

hard training, self-abnegation whichmastered revulsion, herhands snapped open herbag. She took out herpenlight, checked hispupils.They were equal and

reactive.It was still possible to

savehim.Quicklysheadjustedhis

head,tilteditbacktoclearhisthroat.Thenshefoldedher hands together overhis sternum, leaned herweight on her arms, andbegantoapplyCPR.The rhythm of

cardiopulmonaryresuscitationwassodeeply

ingrained in her that shefollowed it automatically:fifteen firm heels of herhandstohissternum;thentwo deep exhalations intohis mouth, blocking hisnoseasshedidso.Buthismouth was foul—cariousand vile, as if his teethwere rotten, or his palategangrenous. She almostfaltered. Instantly herrevulsionbecameanacute

physical nausea, as if sheweretastingtheexudationof a boil. But she was adoctor;thiswasherwork.Fifteen.Two.Fifteen.Two.She did not permit

herselftomissabeat.But fear surged through

her nausea. Exhaustion.Failure. CPR was sodemanding that no oneperson could sustain it

alone formore thana fewminutes. If he did notcomebacktolifesoon—Breathe, damn you, shemuttered along the beats.Fifteen. Two. Damn you.Breathe.Therewasstillnopulse.Her own breathingbecame ragged; giddinesswelledupinherlikeatideof darkness. The airseemedtoresistherlungs.

Heat and the approach ofsunset dimmed the oldman. He had lost allmuscle-tone, allappearanceoflife.Breathe!Abruptly she stoppedher rhythm, snatched ather bag. Her armstrembled; she clenchedthem still as she brokeopen a disposable syringe,a vial of adrenaline, a

cardiac needle. Fightingfor steadiness, she filledthe syringe, cleared outthe air. In spite of herurgency, she took amoment to swab clean apatch of the man’s thinchest with alcohol. Thenshe slid the needledelicately past his ribs,injectedadrenalineintohisheart.Setting aside the

syringe, she riskedpounding her fist onceagainst his sternum. Buttheblowhadnoeffect.Cursing, she resumed

herCPR.Sheneededhelp.Butshe

could not do anythingabout that. If she stoppedto take him into town, ortogoinsearchofaphone,he would die. Yet if sheexhaustedherselfalonehe

wouldstilldie.Breathe!He did not breathe. His

heart did not beat. Hismouthwas as fetid as themaw of a corpse. Thewholeordealwashopeless.Shedidnotrelent.All the blackness of her

life was in her. She hadspent too many yearsteaching herself to beeffectiveagainstdeath;she

could not surrender now.She had been too young,weak,andignoranttosaveher father, couldnothavesaved her mother; nowthat she knewwhat to doandcoulddoit,shewouldnever quit, never falsifyherlifebyquitting.Dark motes began todance across her vision;the air swarmed withmoisture and inadequacy.

Her arms felt leaden; herlungscriedoutevery timeshe forced breath downthe old man’s throat. Helayinert.Tearsofrageandneed ran hotly down herface. Yet she did notrelent.She was still halfconscious when a tremorran through him, and hetookahoarsegulpofair.At once, her will

snapped. Blood rushed toherhead.Shedidnot feelherself fall away to theside.When she regained

enough self-command toraise her head, her sightwas a smear of pain andher face was slick withsweat. The old man wasstandingoverher.Hiseyeswere on her; the intenseblue of his gaze held her

likeahandofcompassion.He looked impossibly talland healthy; his veryposture seemed to denythat he had ever beenclose to death. Gently hereacheddowntoher,drewher to her feet. As he puthis arms around her, sheslumped against him,unable to resist hisembrace.“Ah, my daughter, do

notfear.”His voice was husky

with regret andtenderness.“You will not fail,

however he may assailyou. There is also love intheworld.”Then he released her,

stepped back. His eyesbecamecommandments.“Betrue.”She watched him

dumbly as he turned,walkedawayfromherintothe field. Milkweed andwild mustard whippedagainst his robe for amoment. She couldhardlysee him through theblurring of her vision. Amusky breeze stirred hishair, made it a nimbusaroundhisheadasthesunbegan to set. Then hefaded into the humidity,

andwasgone.She wanted to call outafterhim,butthememoryofhiseyesstoppedher.Betrue.Deep in her chest, herheartbegantotremble.

TWO:SomethingBroken

After a moment, thetrembling spread to herlimbs. The surface of herskinfeltfiery,asiftheraysof the sun wereconcentrated on her. Themuscles of her abdomenknotted.The old man hadvanished. He had put hisarms around her as if he

hadtheright,andthenhehadvanished.She feared thathergutsweregoingtorebel.But then her gazelurched toward the dirtwhere the old man hadlain. There she saw theused hypodermic, thesterile wrappings, theempty vial. The dust borethefaintimprintofabody.A shudder ran through

her, and she began torelax.Sohehadbeenreal.He

had only appeared tovanish. Her eyes hadtrickedher.Shescannedtheareafor

him. He should not bewalkingaround;heneededcare,observation,untilhiscondition stabilized. Butshe saw no sign of him.Fighting an odd

reluctance, shewaded outintothewildmustardafterhim.Butwhenshereachedthe place where her eyeshad lost him, she foundnothing.Baffled, she returned tothe roadway. She did notlike to give him up; butshe appeared to have nochoice in the matter.Muttering under herbreath, she went to

retrieveherbag.The debris of her

treatment she stuffed intooneoftheplasticspecimensacksshecarried.Thenshereturnedtohercar.Assheslidintothefrontseat,shegrippedthesteeringwheelwithbothhands to steadyherself on its hardactuality.She did not remember

why she had come to

HavenFarmuntilthebookon the seat beside hercaughtherattention.Oh,damn!She felt intensely

unready to confrontThomasCovenant.For a moment, she

considered simplyabandoning the favor shehad promised Dr.Berenford. She started theengine, began to turn the

wheel.Buttheexigencyofthe old man’s eyes heldher. That blue would notapprove the breaking ofpromises. And she hadsaved him. She had set aprecedent for herselfwhichwasmoreimportantthan any question ofdifficulty or mortification.When she put the sedaninto motion, she sent itstraightdownthedirtroad

toward the white framehouse, with the dust andthesunsetatherback.The lightcasta tingeof

redoverthehouse,asifitwere in the process ofbeing transformed intosomething else. As sheparkedhercar,shehadtofight another surge ofreluctance. She did notwant to have anything todowith ThomasCovenant

—not because he was aleper, but because hewassomething unknown andfierce, something soextravagant that even Dr.Berenford was afraid ofhim.But she had already

made her commitment.Picking up the book, sheleft her car and went tothe front door of thehouse,hopingtobeableto

finish this task before thelightfailed.She spent a moment

straightening her hair.Thensheknocked.Thehousewassilent.Her shoulders throbbed

with the consequences ofstrain. Fatigue andembarrassment made herarmsfeeltooheavytolift.Shehadtogritherteethtomakeherselfknockagain.

Abruptly she heard thesound of feet. They camestamping through thehouse toward her. Shecouldhearangerinthem.The front door was

snatchedopen,andamanconfronted her, a leanfigureinoldjeansandaT-shirt, a few inches tallerthan herself. About fortyyears old. He had anintense face. His mouth

was as strict as a stonetablet; his cheeks werelined with difficulties; hiseyes were like embers,capable of fire. His hairabove his forehead wasraddledwithgray,asifhehadbeenagedmorebyhisthoughtsthanbytime.He was exhausted.

Almost automatically, shenoted the redness of hisorbsandeyelids,thepallor

of his skin, the febrilerawnessofhismovements.Hewas either ill or underextremestress.She opened her mouthto speak, got no further.Heregisteredherpresencefor a second, thensnapped,“Goddamnit,ifIwanted visitors I’d post asign!” and clapped thedoorshutinherface.She blinked after him

momentarily whiledarkness gathered at herback, and her uncertaintyturned to anger. Then shehit the door so hard thatthe wood rattled in itsframe.Hecamebackalmostat

once.Hisvoicehurledacidat her. “Maybe you don’tspeakEnglish.I—”Shemethisglarewitha

mordantsmile.“Aren’tyou

supposedtoringabell,orsomething?”That stopped him. His

eyes narrowed as hereconsideredher.Whenhespoke again, his wordscamemoreslowly,asifheweretryingtomeasurethedangersherepresented.“If you know that, you

don’tneedanywarning.”She nodded. “My name

is Linden Avery. I’m a

doctor.”“And you’re not afraid

oflepers.”His sarcasm was as

heavy as a bludgeon; butshematched it. “If I wereafraid of sick people, Iwouldn’tbeadoctor.”Hisglowerexpressedhis

disbelief. But he saidcurtly, “I don’t need adoctor,” and started toswingthedoorshutagain.

“So actually,” sherasped, “you’re the onewho’safraid.”His face darkened.

Enunciating each word asifitwereadagger,hesaid,“What do you want,doctor?”To her dismay, his

controlled vehemencemade her falter. For thesecond time in the courseofthesunset,shewasheld

by eyes that were toopotent for her. His gazeshamed her. The book—her excuse for being there—wasinherhand;butherhandwasbehindherback.She could not tell the lieDr. Berenford hadsuggested to her. And shehad no other answer. Shecould see vividly thatCovenantneededhelp.Yetif he did not ask for it,

what recourse did shehave?But then a leap of

intuitioncrossedhermind.Speaking before she couldquestion herself, she said,“That oldman toldme to‘Betrue.’”Hisreactionstartledher.

Surpriseand fear flared inhis eyes. His shoulderswinced; his jaw dropped.Then abruptly he had

closed the door behindhim. He stood before herwith his face thrust hotlyforward.“Whatoldman?”She met his firesquarely. “He was out atthe end of your driveway—an oldman in an ochrerobe.AssoonasIsawhim,he went into cardiacarrest.” For an instant, acold hand of doubttouchedherheart.Hehad

recovered too easily. Hadhe staged the wholesituation? Impossible! Hisheart had stopped. “I hadto work like hell to savehim. Then he just walkedaway.”Covenant’s belligerencecollapsed. His gaze clungto her as if he weredrowning.Hishandsgapedin front of him. For thefirst time, she observed

thatthelasttwofingersofhis right hand weremissing. He wore awedding band of whitegold on what had oncebeen the middle finger ofthathand.Hisvoicewasascraping of pain in histhroat.“He’sgone?”“Yes.”“Anoldmaninanochre

robe?”“Yes.”

“You saved him?” Hisfeatures were fading intonight as the sun droppedbelowthehorizon.“Yes.”“Whatdidhesay?”“Ialreadytoldyou.”Her

uncertainty made herimpatient. “He said, ‘Betrue.’”“Hesaidthattoyou?”“Yes!”Covenant’s eyes left her

face.“Hellfire.”Hesaggedasifhecarriedaweightofcrueltyonhisback.“Havemercy onme. I can’t bearit.” Turning, he slumpedback to the door, openedit.Buttherehestopped.“Whyyou?”Then he had reenteredhis house, the door wasclosed, and Linden stoodalone in the evening as ifshehadbeenbereft.

She did not move untiltheneed todo something,takesomekindofactiontorestore the familiarity ofherworld, impelledhertohercar.Sittingbehindthewheel as if she werestunned,shetriedtothink.Whyyou?What kind of questionwas that? She was adoctor, and the old manhad needed help. It was

that simple. What wasCovenanttalkingabout?But Be true was not all

the old man had said. Hehadalso said,Youwill notfail, however he may assailyou.He?Wasthatareference

to Covenant?Was the oldman trying towarnherofsomething?Ordiditimplysome other kind ofconnection between him

and the writer? What didtheyhavetodowitheachother?Orwithher?Nobody could fakecardiacarrest!Shetookaharshgriponher scrambled thoughts.Thewhole;situationmadenosense.Allshecouldsayfor certain was thatCovenant had recognizedher description of the oldman. And Covenant’s

mental stability wasclearlyopentoquestion.Clenchingthewheel,shestartedher car, backedupin order to turn around.She was convinced nowthat Covenant’s problemwas serious; but thatconviction only made hermore angry at Dr.Berenford’s refusal to tellherwhattheproblemwas.Thedirt roadwasobscure

inthetwilight;sheslappedon her headlights as sheput the sedan in gear tocompleteherturn.A scream like a

mouthful of broken glasssnatched her to a halt. Itpierced the mutter of hersedan.Sliversofsoundcutat her hearing. A womanscreaming in agony ormadness.It had come from

Covenant’shouse.In an instant, Linden

stood beside the car,waiting for the cry to berepeated.She heard nothing.

Lightsshonefromsomeofthe windows; but noshadows moved. Nosounds of violencebetrayed the night. She Istoodpoisedtoracetothehouse. Her ears searched

the air. But the dark heldits breath.The screamdidnotcomeagain.For a long moment,indecision held her.Confront Covenant—demand answers? Orleave? She had met hishostility. What right didshehave—?Everyright,ifhe were torturing somewoman.Buthowcouldshebesure?Dr.Berenfordhad

called it a medicalproblem.Dr.Berenford—Spitting curses, shejumped back into her car,stamped down on theaccelerator,andspedawayin a rattle of dust andgravel.Two minutes later, shewasbackintown.Butthenshe had to slow down sothat she could watch for

streetsigns.Whenshearrivedat the

Chief of Staff’s house, allshe could see was anoutline against the nightsky.Itsfrontfrownedasifthis, too, were a placewhere secrets were kept.But she did not hesitate.Striding up the steps, shepoundedonthefrontdoor.That door led to a

screened veranda like a

neutral zone between thedwelling itself and theoutside world. As sheknocked, the porch lightscame on. Dr. Berenfordopened the inner door,closed itbehindhim, thencrossed the veranda toadmither.He smiled a welcome;

buthiseyesevadedhersasif he had reason to befrightened; and she could

seehispulsebeatinginthepouches below theirsockets.“Dr.Berenford,”shesaid

grimly.“Please.” He made a

gestureofappeal.“Julius.”“Dr.Berenford.”Shewas

not sure that she wantedthis man’s friendship.“Whoisshe?”His gaze flinched.

“She?”

“The woman whoscreamed.”Heseemedunabletolifthis eyes to her face. In atired voice, hemurmured,“He didn’t tell youanything.”“No.”Dr.Berenfordconsideredfor a moment, thenmotioned her toward tworocking chairs at one endof the veranda. “Please sit

down.It’scoolerouthere.”His attention seemed towander. “This heat wavecan’tlastforever.”“Doctor!” she lashed athim. “He’s torturing thatwoman.”“No, he isn’t.” Suddenlythe older man was angry.“You get that out of yourheadrightnow.He’sdoingeverythinghe can forher.Whatever’s torturing her,

itisn’thim.”Linden held his glare,measuringhiscandoruntilshe felt sure that he wasThomasCovenant’s friend,whether or not he washers. Then she said flatly,“Tellme.”By degrees, hisexpression recovered itshabitualirony.“Won’tyousitdown?”Brusquely she moved

down the porch, seatedherself to one of therockers.Atonce,heturnedoffthelights,anddarknesscame pouring through thescreens. “I think better inthedark.”Beforeher eyesadjusted, she heard thechairbesidehersqueakashesatdown.For a time, the onlysounds were the softprotestofhischairandthe

stridulationofthecrickets.Then he said abruptly,“SomethingsI’mnotgoingtotellyou.SomeIcan’t—someIwon’t.ButIgotyouinto this. Ioweyoua fewanswers.”After that,hespoke likethevoiceofthenight;andshe listened in a state ofsuspension—halfconcentrating, as shewould have concentrated

on a patient describingsymptoms,halfmusingonthe image of the gauntvivid man who had saidwith such astonishmentandpain,Whyyou?“Eleven years ago,Thomas Covenant was awriterwith one bestseller,a lovelywifenamedJoan,and an infant son, Roger.He hates that novel—callsit inane—buthiswife and

sonhestillloves.Orthinkshedoes.PersonallyIdoubtit. He’s an intensely loyalman.Whathecalls love, Icallbeingloyaltohisownpain.“Eleven years ago, aninfectiononhisrighthandturned out to be leprosy,andthosetwofingerswereamputated. He was sentdowntotheleprosariuminLouisiana, and Joan

divorced him. To protectRogerfrombeingraisedtocloseproximity toa leper.ThewayCovenant tells it,her decision was perfectlyreasonable. A mother’snaturalconcernforachild.Ithinkhe’srationalizing.Ithinkshewasjustafraid.Ithink the idea of whatHansen’s disease could dotohim—nottomentiontoher and Roger—just

terrified her. She ranaway.”His tone conveyed ashrug, “But I’m justguessing. The fact is, shedivorced him, and hedidn’t contest it. After afewmonths,hisillnesswasarrested, and he cameback to Haven Farm.Alone. That was not agood time forhim.Allhisneighbors moved away.

Some people in this fairtown tried to forcehim toleave. He was to theHospital a couple times,and the second time hewas half dead—” Dr.Berenfordseemedtowinceat the memory. “Hisdisease was active again.We sent him back to theleprosarium.“When he came homeagain, everything was

different. He seemed tohave recovered his sanity.For ten years now he’sbeen stable. A little grim,maybe—not exactly whatyou might call diffident—but accessible, reasonable,compassionate. Every yearhefootsthebillforseveralofourindigentpatients.”The older man sighed.

“You know, it’s strange.The same people who try

to convert me seem tothinkheneedssaving,too.He’s a leper who doesn’tgo tochurch,andhe’sgotmoney. Some of ourevangelicals consider thataninsulttotheAlmighty.”The professional part ofLinden absorbed the factsDr. Berenford gave, anddiscounted his subjectivereactions. But her musingraised Covenant’s visage

beforeherinthedarkness.Gradually that needy facebecame more real to her.She saw the lines ofloneliness and gall on hismien.Sherespondedtothestrictness of hiscountenance as if she hadrecognized a comrade.After all, shewas familiarwith bitterness, loss,isolation.But the doctor’s speech

also filled her withquestions. She wanted toknowwhereCovenanthadlearnedhis stability.Whathad changed him? Wherehad he found an answerpotent enough to preservehimagainstthepovertyofhis life? And what hadhappened recently to takeitawayfromhim?“Since then,” the Chiefof Staff continued, “he’s

published seven novels,and that’s where you canreally see the difference.Oh, he’s mentionedsomething about three orfour other manuscripts,but Idon’tknowanythingaboutthem.Thepointis,ifyou didn’t know better,you wouldn’t be able tobelieve his bestseller andthe other seven werewritten by the sameman.

He’s right about the firstone. It’s fluff—self-indulgent melodrama. Buttheothers—“If you had a chance to

readOrIWillSellMySoulfor Guilt, you’d find himarguingthatinnocenceisawonderfulthingexceptforthe fact that it’s impotent.Guilt is power. Alleffective people are guiltybecause the use of power

is guilt, and only guiltypeople can be effective.Effective for good, mindyou.Onlythedamnedcanbesaved.”Linden was squirming.She understood at leastone kind of relationshipbetween guilt andeffectiveness. She hadcommitted murder, andhad become a doctorbecause she had

committed murder. Sheknew that people likeherself were driven topower by the need toassoil their guilt. But shehad found nothing—noanodyne or restitution—toverify the claim that thedamned could be saved.Perhaps Covenant hadfooled Dr. Berenford:perhaps he was crazy, amadman wearing a clever

mask of stability. Orperhaps he knewsomethingshedidnot.Somethingsheneeded.Thatthoughtgavehera

pang of fear. She wassuddenly conscious of thenight, the rungs of therockerpressingagainstherback, the crickets. Sheached to retreat from thenecessity of confrontingCovenant again.

Possibilities of harmcrowded thedarkness.Butshe needed to understandher peril. When Dr.Berenford stopped, sheborethesilenceaslongasshe could, then, faintly,repeated her initialquestion.“Whoisshe?”The doctor sighed. Hischairleftafewsplintersofagitationintheair.Buthe

became completely stillbefore he said, “His ex-wife.Joan.”Linden flinched. Thatpiece of information gavea world of explanation toCovenant’s haggard,febrile appearance. But itwasnotenough.“Whydidshe come back? What’swrongwithher?”The older man beganrockingagain.“Nowwe’re

back to where we werethis afternoon. I can’t tellyou. I can’t tell you whyshe camebackbecausehetold me in confidence. “Ifhe’s right—” His voicetrailed away, thenresumed. “I can’t tell youwhat’s wrong with herbecauseIdon’tknow.”Shestaredathisunseen

face. “That’s why you gotmeintothis.”

“Yes.”Hisreplysoundedlike a recognition ofmortality.“Thereareotherdoctorsaround. Or you could callinaspecialist.”Herthroatclosed suddenly; she hadto swallow heavily inordertosay,“Whyme?”“Well,Isuppose—”Nowhis tone conveyed a wrysmile. “I could say it’sbecause you’re well

trained. But the fact is, Ithought of you becauseyou seem to fit. You andCovenant could talk toeach other—if you gaveyourselvesachance.”“I see.” In the silence,shewasgroaning,Isitthatobvious? After everythingI’ve done to hide it,makeup for it, does it stillshow? To defend herself,she got to her feet. Old

bitternessmadeher soundquerulous.“IhopeyoulikeplayingGod.”He paused for a longmoment before he repliedquietly,“If that’swhatI’mdoing—no, I don’t. But Idon’t look at it that way.I’m just in over my head.SoIaskedyouforhelp.”Help, Linden snarledinwardly.JesusChrist!Butshe did not speak her

indignation aloud. Dr.Berenfordhadtouchedheragain,placedhisfingeronthe nerves whichcompelled her. Becauseshe did not want to utterher weakness, or heranger, or her lack ofchoice, she moved pasthim to the outer door ofthe veranda. “Goodnight,”shesaidinaflattone.“Goodnight,Linden.”He

did not ask her what shewas going to do. Perhapshe understood her. Orperhaps he had nocourage.Shegotintohercarand

headedbacktowardHavenFarm.Shedroveslowly,trying

to regain a sense ofperspective. True, she hadno choice now; but thatwas not because she was

helpless. Rather it wasbecause she had alreadymade the choice—made itlong ago, when she haddecidedtobeadoctor.Shehadelecteddeliberatelytobe who she was now. Ifsomeoftheimplicationsofthat choice gave her pain—well, there was paineverywhere. She deservedwhatever pain she had tobear.

She had not realizeduntil she reached the dirtroad that she hadforgotten to ask Dr.Berenford about the oldman.She could see lightsfrom Covenant’s house.Thebuildinglayflickeringagainstalineofdarktreeslike a gleam about to beswallowed by the woodsand the night. The moon

only confirmed thisimpression; its nearly-fulllightmadethefieldalakeof silver, eldritch andfathomless, but could nottouch the black trees, orthe house which lay intheir shadow. Lindenshivered at the damp air,and drovewith her handstightonthewheelandhersenses taut, as if shewereapproachingacrisis.

Twenty yards from thehouse,shestopped,parkedher car so that it stood intheopenmoonlight.Betrue.Shedidnotknowhow.The approach of herheadlights must havewarned him. An outsidelamp came on as sheneared the front door. Hestepped out to meet her.His stance was erect and

forbidding, silhouetted bythe yellow light at hisback. She could not readhisface.“Dr. Avery.” His voicerasped like a saw. “Goaway.”“No.”Theuncertaintyofher respiration made herspeak abruptly, one pieceat a time. “Not until I seeher.”“Her?”hedemanded.

“Yourex-wife.”For a moment, he was

silent. Then he grated,“What else did thatbastardtellyou?”She ignored his anger.

“Youneedhelp.”His shoulders hunched

as if he were stranglingretorts. “He’s mistaken. Idon’t need help. I don’tneedyou.Goaway.”“No.”Shedidnotfalter.

“He’s right. You’reexhausted. Taking care ofher alone is wearing youout.Icanhelp.”“You can’t,” he

whispered, denying herfiercely.“Shedoesn’tneeda doctor. She needs to beleftalone.”“I’ll believe thatwhen I

seeit.”He tensed as if she had

moved, tried to get past

him.“You’retrespassing.Ifyoudon’tgoaway,I’llcalltheSheriff.”The falseness of herposition infuriated her.“Goddamn it!” shesnapped. “What are youafraidof?”“You.” His voice wasgravid,cold.“Me? You don’t evenknowme.”“And you don’t know

me.Youdon’tknowwhat’sgoing on here. Youcouldn’t possiblyunderstand it. And youdidn’t choose it.” Hebrandished words at herlikeblades.“Berenfordgotyou into this. That oldman—” He swallowed,then barked, “You savedhim, and he chose you,and you don’t have anyideawhatthatmeans.You

haven’t got the faintestidea what he chose youfor.Byhell, I’mnotgoingtostandforit!Goaway.”“Whatdoesithavetodo

with you?” She groped tounderstand him. “Whatmakes you think it hasanythingtodowithyou?”“BecauseIdoknow.”“Knowwhat?”Shecould

not tolerate thecondescension of his

refusal. “What’s so specialabout you? Leprosy? Doyou think being a lepergives you some kind ofprivateclaimonlonelinessorpain?Don’tbearrogant.There are other people intheworldwho suffer, andit doesn’t take being aleper to understand them.What’ssogoddamnspecialaboutyou?”Her anger stopped him.

Shecouldnotseehisface;but his posture seemed totwist, reconsidering her.After a moment, he saidcarefully, “Nothing aboutme. But I’m on the insideof this thing, and youaren’t. I know it. Youdon’t. It can’t beexplained. You don’tunderstand what you’redoing.”“Thentellme.Makeme

understand.SoIcanmaketherightchoice.”“Dr. Avery.” His voicewas sudden and harsh.“Maybe suffering isn’tprivate. Maybe sicknessandharmareinthepublicdomain. But this isprivate.”His intensity silencedher.Shewrestledwithhiminherthoughts,andcouldfindnowaytotakeholdof

him. He knew more thanshe did—had enduredmore, purchased more,learned more. Yet shecould not let go. Sheneeded some kind ofexplanation. The night airwas thick and humid,blurring the meaning ofthe stars.Because shehadno other argument, shechallenged him with herincomprehension itself.

“ ‘Be true,’ ” shearticulated, “isn’t the onlythinghesaid.”Covenant recoiled. She

held herself still until thesuspensedrovehimtoaskin a muffled tone, “Whatelse?”“He said, ‘Do not fear.

Youwillnot fail,howeverhemayassailyou.’”Thereshe halted, unwilling tosay the rest. Covenant’s

shoulders began to shake.Grimly she pursued heradvantage. “Who was hetalkingabout?You?”Hedidnot respond.His

hands were pressed to hisface,stiflinghisemotion.“Or was it somebody

else? Did somebody hurtJoan?”A shard of pain slipped

past his teeth before hecould lock them against

himself.“Or is something going

to happen to me? Whatdoes thatoldmanhavetodo withme?Why do yousayhechoseme?”“He’s using you.”

Covenant’shandsoccludedhis voice. But he hadmasteredhimself.Whenhedroppedhisarms,histonewasdullandfaint,likethefalling of ashes. “He’s like

Berenford. Thinks I needhelp.ThinksIcan’thandleit this time.” He shouldhave sounded bitter; buthe had momentarily losteven that resource. “Theonly difference is, heknows—whatIknow.”“Then tell me,” Linden

urgedagain.“Letmetry.”By force of will,

Covenant straightened sothat he stood upright

against the light. “No.Maybe I can’t stop you,but I as sure as hell don’thave to let you. I’m notgoingtocontributetothis.If you’re dead set ongetting involved, you’regoingtohavetofindsomeway to do it behind myback.”Hestoppedas ifhewerefinished.Butthenheragedather,“Andtellthatbastard Berenford he

ought to try trusting meforachange!”Retorts jumped into herthroat. Shewanted to yellback,Whyshouldhe?Youdon’t trust anybody else!But as she gathered forceinto her lungs, a screamstungtheair.A woman screaming,raw and heinous.Impossible that anybodycould feel such virulent

terror and stay sane. Itshrilled like the heart-shriekofthenight.Before it ended, Linden

was on her way pastCovenant toward the frontdoor.He caught her arm: she

broke the grip of his half-hand,flunghimoff.“I’madoctor.” Leaving him notime for permission ordenial,shejerkedopenthe

door, strode into thehouse.The door admitted her

to the living room. Itlookedbare, inspiteof itscarpeting and bookcases;therewerenopictures,noornaments; and the onlyfurniture was a longoverstaffed sofa with acoffee table in front of it.They occupied the centerof the floor, as if tomake

the space around themnavigable.She gave the room a

glance, then marcheddown a short passage tothe kitchen. There, too, atable and two straight-backed wooden chairsoccupied the center of thespace.Shewentpastthem,turned to enter anotherhall. Covenant hurriedafter her as she by-passed

two open doors—thebathroom, his bedroom—toreachtheoneattheendofthehall.Itwasclosed.Atonce,shetookholdoftheknob.He snatched at herwrist. “Listen.” His voicemusthaveheld emotion—urgency, anguish,something—but she didnothearit.“Thisyouhave

to understand. There’sonly one way to hurt amanwho’slosteverything.Give him back somethingbroken.”She gripped the knobwithher freehand.He lethergo.She opened the door,wentintotheroom.Allthelightswereon.Joan sat on an iron-framebedinthemiddleof

the room. Her ankles andwristsweretiedwithclothbonds which allowed herto sit up or lie down butdidnotpermithertobringher hands together. Thelong cotton nightgowncovering her thin limbshad been twisted aroundherbyherdistress.A white gold wedding

ring hung from a silverchainaroundherneck.

She did not look atCovenant.HergazesprangatLinden,andamad furyclenchedherface.Shehadrabid eyes, the eyes of ademented lioness.Whimpers moaned in herthroat. Her pallid skinstretched tightly over herbones.Intuitive revulsion

appalledLinden.Shecouldnot think. She was not

accustomed to suchsavagery. It violated allher conceptions of illnessor harm, paralyzed herresponses. This was notordinary humanineffectuality or painraised to the level ofdespair; this was pureferocity, concentrated andmurderous. She had toforce herself forward. Butwhen she drew near the

womanandstretchedoutatentativehand,Joanbitather like a baited cat.Involuntarily Lindenrecoiled.“DearGod!”shepanted.

“What’swrongwithher?”Joanraisedherhead,let

out a scream like theanguishofthedamned.Covenant could not

speak. Grief contorted hisfeatures.HewenttoJoan’s

side. Fumbling over theknot, he untied her leftwrist, released her arm.Instantly she clawed athim, straining her wholebody to reach him. Heevaded her, caught herforearm.Linden watched with asilentwailasheletJoan’snails rake the back of hisright hand. Blood welledfromthecuts.

Joan smeared herfingers in his blood. Thenher hand jumped to hermouth, and she sucked iteagerly,greedily.The taste of bloodseemedtorestoreherself-awareness. Almostimmediately, the madnessfaded from her face. Hereyes softened, turned totears;hermouthtrembled.“Oh, Tom,” she quavered

weakly. “I’m so sorry. Ican’t—He’s in my mind,andIcan’tgethimout.Hehates you. He makes—makes me—” She wassobbing brokenly. Herlucidity was acutely crueltoher.Hesatonthebedbeside

her, put his arms aroundher. “I know.” His voiceached in the room. “Iunderstand.”

“Tom,” shewept. “Tom.Helpme.”“I will.” His tone

promised that he wouldfaceanyordeal,makeanysacrifice, commit anyviolence. “As soon as he’sready.I’llgetyoufree.”Slowly her frail limbs

relaxed. Her sobs grewquieter. She wasexhausted. When hestretched her out on the

bed, she closed her eyes,went to sleep with herfingersinhermouthlikeachild.He took a tissue from a

box on a table near thebed,pressedittothebackof his hand. Then,tenderly, he pulled Joan’sfingers from her mouthand retied herwrist.OnlythendidhelookatLinden.“It doesn’t hurt,” he

said. “The backs of myhandshavebeennumbforyears.” The torment wasgonefromhisface;itheldnothing now except thelong weariness of a painhecouldnotheal.Watchinghisbloodsoakinto the tissue, she knewshe should do somethingtotreatthatinjury.Butanessential part of her hadfailed, proved itself

inadequate to Joan; shecould not bear to touchhim.Shehadnoanswertowhat she had seen. For amoment, her eyes werehelpless with tears. Onlythe old habit of severitykept her from weeping.Only her need kept herfromfleeingintothenight.Itdrovehertosaygrimly,“Now you’re going to tellme what’s wrong with

her.”“Yes,” he murmured. “I

supposeIam.”

THREE:Plight

He guided her back tothe living room in silence.His hand on her arm wasreluctant, as ifhedreadedthat mere human contact.When she sat on the sofa,he gestured toward hisinjury, and left her alone.Shewas glad to be alone.She was stunned by herfailure;sheneededtimeto

regain possession ofherself.What had happened toher? She understoodnothingaboutevil,didnoteven believe in it as anidea;butshehadseenitinJoan’s feral hunger. Shewastrainedtoperceivetheworld in terms ofdysfunction and disease,medication and treatment,success or death. Words

like good or evil meantnothing to her. But Joan—! Where did suchmalignant ferocity comefrom?Andhow—?When Covenant

returned, with his righthand wrapped in a whitebandage, she stared athim, demandingexplanations.Hestoodbeforeher,did

not meet her gaze. The

slouchofhis posture gavehim a look ofabandonment; the skin atthe corners of his eyescrumpled like dismaypinching his flesh. But hismouth had learned thehabit of defiance; it wastwistedwithrefusals.Aftera moment, he muttered,“So you see why I didn’twant you to know abouther,”andbegantopace.

“Nobody knows”—thewords came as if heweredredging them out of theprivacy of his heart—“except Berenford andRoman. The law doesn’texactly smile on peoplewho keep other peopleprisoner—even in hercondition.Idon’thaveanylegal rightsatallas farasshe’s concerned.What I’msupposedtodoisturnher

overtotheauthorities.ButI’ve been living withoutthe benefit of law so longnowIdon’tgiveadamn.”“But what’s wrong with

her?” Linden could notkeep her voice fromtwitching; she was tootightly clenched to soundsteady.Hesighed.“Sheneedsto

hurtme.She’sstarvingforit—that’s what makes her

soviolent.It’sthebestwayshecanthinkof topunishherself.”Withawrench,Linden’sanalyticalinstinctbegantofunction again. Paranoiac,shewincedtoherself.He’sparanoiac. But aloud sheinsisted,“Butwhy?What’shappenedtoher?”He stopped, looked atherasifheweretryingtogaugeher capacity for the

truth, then went back tohispacing.“Of course,” he

murmured,“thatisn’thowBerenford sees it. Hethinks it’s a psychiatricproblem. The only reasonhe hasn’t tried to get heraway from me is becauseheunderstandswhyIwanttotakecareofher.Orpartof it. His wife is aparaplegic, and he would

never consider dumpingtheproblemoffonanyoneelse. I haven’t told himabouthertasteforblood.”He was evading her

question.Shestruggledforpatience. “Isn’t it apsychiatric problem?Hasn’t Dr. Berenford beenable to rule out physicalcauses?Whatelse could itbe?”Covenanthesitated,then

said distantly, “He doesn’tknowwhat’sgoingon.”“You keep saying that.

It’stooconvenient.”“No,” he retorted, “it’s

not convenient. It’s thetruth. You don’t have thebackground to understandit.”“How can you be so

goddamn sure?” Theclench of her self-command made her voice

raw. “I’ve spent half mylife coping with otherpeople’spain.”Shewantedto add, Can’t you get itthroughyourheadthatI’ma doctor? But her throatlockedonthosewords.Shehadfailed—For an instant, his gaze

winced as if he weredistressedby the idea thatshe did in fact have thenecessarybackground.But

then he shook his headsharply.Whenheresumed,she could not tell whatkind of answer he haddecidedtogiveher.“I wouldn’t know about

itmyself,” he said, “if herparents hadn’t called me.About a month ago. Theydon’t have much use forme, but theywere frantic.They told me everythingtheyknew.

“I suppose it’s an oldstory. The only thing thatmakesitnewisthewayithurts. Joan divorced mewhen we found out I hadleprosy. Eleven years ago.TookRogerandwentbacktoherfamily.Shethoughtshewasjustified—ah,hell,foryearsIthoughtshewasjustified. Kids are moresusceptibletoleprosythanadults. So she divorced

me.ForRoger’ssake.“But it didn’t work.

Deep inside her, shebelieved she’d betrayedme. It’s hard to forgiveyourself for desertingsomeone you love—someonewhoneedsyou.Iterodes your self-respect.Like leprosy. It gnawsaway at you. Before long,you’reamoralcripple.Shestood it for awhile. Then

she started hunting forcures.”His voice, and the

information hewas givingher,steadiedLinden.Ashepaced, she becameconscious of the way hecarried himself, the careand specificity of all hismovements. He navigatedpastthecoffeetableasifitwereadangertohim.Andrepeatedly he scanned

himself with his eyes,checking in turn eachhand, each arm, his legs,hischest,asifheexpectedtofindthathehadinjuredhimself without knowingit.Shehadreadaboutsuch

things. His self-inspectionwas called VSE—visualsurveillanceofextremities.Like the care with whichhe moved, it was part of

thedisciplineheneededtokeep his illness arrested.Because of the damageleprosy had done to hisnerves, the largest singlethreat to his health wasthe possibility that hemightbump,burn, scrape,cut, or bruise himselfwithout realizing it. Theninfection would set inbecause the wound wasnot tended. So he moved

with all the caution hecould muster. Thefurniture inhishousewasarranged to minimize therisk of protruding corners,obstacles, accidents. Andhe scanned himselfregularly,lookingforsignsofdanger.Watching him in this

objective,professionalwayhelpedrestorehersenseofwho she was. Slowly she

became better able tolisten to his indirectexplanation withoutimpatience.He had not paused; he

wassaying,“Firstshetriedpsychology.Shewantedtobelieve it was all in hermind—and minds can befixed, like broken arms.She started going throughpsychologicalfadsthewaysomepeople trade incars,

anewoneeveryyear.Asifher problem really wasmentalinsteadofspiritual.“None of it made senseto her parents, but theytried to be tolerant, justdid what they could togiveRogerastablehome.“So they thought shewas finallygoing tobeallright when she suddenlygave that up and wentchurchy.Theybelievedall

alongthatreligionwastheanswer. Well, it’s goodenough for most people,butitdidn’tgiveherwhatshe needed. It was tooeasy. Her disease wasprogressingallthetime.Ayear ago, she became afanatic. Took Roger andwent to join a commune.Oneof thoseplaceswherepeoplelearntheecstasyofhumiliation,andtheleader

preaches love and masssuicide.“Shemusthavebeen so

desperate—Formostofherlife, the only thing shereally wanted to believewasthatshewasperfectlyallright.Butafterallthoseyearsof failure, shedidn’thave any defenses left.What did she have tolose?”Linden was not wholly

convinced. She had nomoreuse forGodthanforconceptions of good andevil. But Covenant’spassion held her.His eyeswere wet with violenceand grief; his mouth wasas sharp as a blade. Hebelieved what he wassaying.Her expression must

havebetrayedsomeofherdoubt;hisvoicetookonan

echo of Joan’s ferocity.“Youdon’thavetobelievein God to grasp what shewas going through. Shewas suffering from anaffliction forwhich there’sno mortal cure. Shecouldn’t even arrest theway it rotted her. Maybeshe didn’t know what itwasshewastryingtocure.Shewaslookingformagic,some power that could

reach into her and heal—When you’ve tried all thesalves in the world andtheydon’twork, you startthinking about fire. Burnout the pain. She wantedto punish herself, findsomekindofabnegationtomatchherpersonalrot.”His voice broke; but hecontrolled it instantly. “Iknowall about it.But shedidn’t have any defenses.

She opened the door forhim, and he saw she wasthe perfect tool, and he’sbeenusingher—using her,whenshe’stoodamagedtoevenunderstandwhathe’susingherfor.”Using her? Linden did

notcomprehend.He?Slowly Covenant

suppressed his anger. “Ofcourse, her parents didn’tknowanythingaboutthat.

How could they? All theyknew was that about sixweeks ago shewoke themup in the middle of thenightandstartedbabbling.She was a prophet, she’dhadavision,theLordhadgiven her a mission. Woeand retribution to thewicked, death to the sickand the unbelieving. Theonly sense they couldmakeoutofitwasthatshe

wanted them to take careof Roger. Then she wasgone. They haven’t seenhersince.“After a couple weeks,they called me. I hadn’tseen her—that was thefirstI’dheardaboutit.Butabout two weeks ago sheshowed up here. Sneakedinto my room during thenightand tried to tearmyfaceoff.Ifshehadn’tbeen

so weak, she would havesucceeded. She must havecomeallthewayonfoot.”He seemed too

exhaustedhimselftogoonpacing. His red-rimmedeyes made him look ill,and his hands trembled.How long had he beenwithout decent sleep orpeace? Twoweeks?Whenhe sat down on theopposite end of the sofa,

Linden turned so that shecould continue to studynun. In the back of hermind, she began trying toconceivesomewaytogivehimasedative.“Since then,” he sighed,

“Berenford and I havebeen taking care of her. Igot him into this becausehe’s the only doctor Iknow.HethinksI’mwrongabouther,buthe’shelping

me. Or he was. Until hegotyou into this.”Hewastoo tired to sound bitter.“I’m trying to reach herany way I can, and he’sgiving her drugs that aresupposed to clear hermind.Oratleastcalmherso I can feed her. I leavethe lights on in there allthe time. Somethinghappenstoherwhenshe’saloneinthedark.Shegoes

berserk—I’m afraid she’llbreak an arm orsomething.”He fell silent.Apparentlyhehadreachedtheendofhisstory—orofhis strength. Linden feltthat his explanation wasincomplete, but she heldherquestionsinabeyance.He needed aid, a relieffrom strain. Carefully shesaid, “Maybe she really

shouldbeinahospital.I’msureDr. Berenford’s doingwhathecan.Butthereareall kinds of diagnosticprocedures he can’t usehere. If she were in ahospital—”“If she were in a

hospital”—he swungtowardhersoroughlythatsherecoiled—“they’dkeepher in a straitjacket, andforce-feed her three times

a day, and turn her braininto jelly withelectroshock, and fill herup with drugs until shecouldn’trecognizeherownname ifGodHimselfwerecalling for her, and itwouldn’t do any good!Goddamn it, she was mywife!” He brandished hisrightfist.“I’mstillwearingthebloodyring!”“Is that what you think

doctors do?” She wassuddenly livid; her failuremade her defensive.“Brutalizesickpeople?”He strove to containhis

ire. “Doctors try to cureproblems whether theyunderstandthemornot.Itdoesn’t always work. Thisisn’t something a doctorcancure.”“Is thata fact?”Shedid

notwanttotaunthim;but

her own compulsionsdrove her. “Tell me whatgoodyou’redoingher.”He flinched. Rage andpain struggled inhim;buthe fought them down.Then he said simply, “Shecametome.”“She didn’t know whatshewasdoing.”“ButIdo,”Hisgrimnessdefiedher.“Iunderstanditwell enough. I’m the only

onewhocanhelpher.”Frustration boiled up inher.“Understandwhat?”Hejerkedtohisfeet.Hewas a figure of passion,held erect and potent inspite of weakness by theintensity of his heart. Hiseyeswerechisels;whenhespoke, each word felldistinctly, like a chip ofgranite.“Sheispossessed.”

Linden blinked at him.“Possessed?” He hadstaggered her. He did notseem to be talking alanguage she couldcomprehend. Thiswas thetwentiethcentury;medicalscience had not takenpossession seriously for atleastahundredyears.Shewas on her feet. “Are yououtofyourmind?”She expected him to

retreat. But he still hadresources she had notplumbed. He held herglare, and his visage—charged and purified bysome kind of sustainingconviction—made heracutely aware of her ownmoral poverty. When helookedaway,hedidnotdosobecausehewasabashedorbeaten;helookedawayin order to spare her the

implications of hisknowledge.“You see?” hemurmured.“It’saquestionof experience. You’re justnot equipped tounderstand.”“By God!” she fumeddefensively, “that’s themost arrogant thing I’veever heard. You standthere spouting the mostegregious nonsense, and

when I question you, youjustnaturallyassumetheremust be something wrongwithme.Wheredoyougetthegallto—?”“Dr. Avery.” His voicewas low, dangerous. “Ididn’t say there wasanythingwrongwithyou.”She did not listen tohim. “You’re sufferingfrom classic paranoia, Mr.Covenant.” She bit each

word mordantly. “Youthink that everybody whodoubtsyouisn’tquiterightin the head. You’re atextbookcase.”Seething irrationally,she turned on her heel,stamped toward the door—fleeing from him, andfighting furiously tobelieve that she was notfleeing. But he came afterher, caught hold of her

shoulders. She whirled onhimas ifhehadassaultedher.He had not. His hands

dropped to his sides, andtwitched as if they achedto make gestures ofsupplication. His face wasopen and vulnerable; shesawintuitivelythatatthatmoment she could haveasked him anything, andhe would have done his

best to answer. “Please,”hebreathed.“You’reinanimpossible situation, and Ihaven’tmadeitanyeasier.But please. At leastconsider the chance that IknowwhatI’mdoing.”A retort coiled in hermouth, then frayed andfellapart.Shewasfurious,not because she had anyrighttobe,butbecausehisattitude showed her how

far shehad fallen into thewrong. She swallowed tostifle a groan, almostreachedouttowardhimtoapologize.Buthedeservedsomething better than anapology. Carefully shesaid, “I’ll consider it.” Shecouldnotmeethiseyes.“Iwon’t do anything until Italktoyouagain.”Then she left thehouse,frankly escaping from the

exigency of hisincomprehensibleconvictions. Her handsfumbledliketraitorsassheopenedthedoorofhercar,slidbehindthewheel.With failure in her

mouth like the taste ofsickness,shedrovebacktoherapartment.She needed to be

comforted; but there wasnocomfortinthosegrubby

walls, in the chipped andpeeling floorboards whichmoanedlikevictimsunderherfeet.Shehadacceptedthat apartment preciselybecause it offered her nocomfort; but the womanwho had made thatdecision was a womanwho had never watchedherself buckle under thedemandsofherprofession.Now for the first time

since that moment ofmurder fifteen years ago,when her hands hadaccepted the burden ofblood, she yearned forsolace. She lived in aworldwhere therewasnosolace.Because she could thinkof no other recourse, shewenttobed.Tension and muggysheets kept her awake for

alongtime;andwhenshefinally slept, her dreamsweresweatandfearinthehot night. The old man,Covenant, Joan—allbabbled of He, trying towarn her. He whopossessed Joan forpurposes too cruel to beanswered. He whointendedtoharmthemall.Butat last shesank intoadeeper slumber, and the

evilwentbackintohiding.Shewas awakened by aknockingatherdoor.Her head felt swollenwith nightmares, and theknocking had a tentativesound, as if the knockerbelieved the apartment tobe dangerous. But it wasimperative. She was adoctor.When she unclosed hereyes, the light of

midmorning pierced herbrain.Groaning she climbed

out of bed, shrugged herarmsintoabathrobe,thenwenttoopenthedoor.A short timid woman

with hands that flutteredand eyes that shied stoodon the landing.Timorously, she asked,“Dr. Avery? Dr. LindenAvery?”

With an effort, Lindenclearedherthroat.“Yes.”“Dr. Berenford called.”The woman seemed tohavenoideawhatshewassaying. “I’m his secretary.Youdon’thaveaphone. Idon’t work on Saturdays,buthecalledmeathome.Hewantsyoutomeethim.He’s supposed to be onrounds.”“Meet him?” A pang of

apprehension wentthroughher.“Where?”“He said you’d knowwhere.” Insistently thewoman went on, “I’m hissecretary. I don’twork onSaturdays, but I’m alwaysglad to help him. He’s afine man—a fine doctor.His wife had polio. Hereally should be onrounds.”Linden shut her eyes. If

shecouldhavesummonedany strength, she wouldhave cried out, Why areyoudoing this tome?Butshe felt drained by baddreams and doubt.Muttering, “Thank you,”sheclosedthedoor.For a moment, she did

not move; she leanedagainst the door as if tohold it shut, wanting toscream. But Dr. Berenford

would not have gone tosuch trouble to send forher if the situation werenoturgent.Shehadtogo.As she dressed in theclothes she had worn theprevious day and ran acombthroughherhair,sherealized that she made achoice. Sometime duringthe night, she had givenher allegiance toCovenant. She did not

understand what waswrongwith Joan, orwhathe thought he could doabout it; but she wasattractedtohim.Thesameintransigencewhichhadsoinfuriated her had alsotouched her deeply; shewas vulnerable to thestrange appeal of hisanger, his extremity, hisparadoxically savage andcompassionate

determination to standloyaltohisex-wife.She drank a quick glass

oforangejuicetoclearherhead, then went down tohercar.The day was already

unnaturally hot; thesunlighthurthereyes.Shefelt oddly giddy anddetached, as if she wereexperiencing ahallucination, as she

entered the dirt roadwayand approachedCovenant’s house. At first,she was not sure of hervision when she descriedthedarkstainonthewall.She parked beside Dr.Berenford’s car, jumpedouttolook.Nearthedoorway,atall,crudetriangleviolatedthewhitewall.Itwasreddish-black, the color of dried

blood. The vehemence ofits intent convinced herthatitwasblood.Shebegantorun.Springingintothelivingroom,shesawthatit,too,had been desecrated. Allthe furnishings wereintact; but everythingwassplotchedandsoakedwithblood. Buckets of bloodhad been thrown into theroom.Asickly-sweetsmell

cloggedtheair.On the floor near thecoffeetablelayashotgun.Her stomach writhed.She slapped her hands tohermouth to keep herselffrom crying out. All thisbloodcouldnothavecomefrom one ordinary humanbody.Someatrocity—Then she saw Dr.Berenford. He sat in thekitchenatthetable,witha

cupbetweenhishands.Hewaslookingather.She strode toward him,started to demand, “Whatthehell—?”He stopped her with awarning gesture. “Keep itdown,” he said softly.“He’ssleeping.”For a moment, shegapedattheChiefofStaff.Butshewasaccustomedtoemergencies; her self-

command quicklyreasserteditself.Movingasiftoprovetohimthatshecouldbecalm,shefoundacup, poured herself somecoffeefromthepotonthestove, sat down in theother chair at the oldenamel-topped table. In aflattone,sheasked,“Whathappened?”He sipped his own

coffee. All the humorwas

gone out of him, and hishands shook. “I guess hewas right all along.” Hedid not meet her stare.“She’sgone.”“Gone?” For an instant,her control slipped.Gone?She could hardly breathepast the thudding of herheart. “Isanybody lookingforher?”“Thepolice,”hereplied.“Mrs. Roman—did I tell

you about her? She’s hislawyer. She went back totown after I got here—acouplehoursago.To lighta fire under the Sheriff.Right now, every able-bodiedcopinthecountyisprobably out looking. Theonly reason you don’t seecars is becauseour Sheriff—bless his warm littleheart—won’t let his menparkthisclosetoaleper.”

“All right.” Lindenmustered her training,gripped it in both hands.“Tellmewhathappened.”He made a gesture of

helplessness.“Idon’treallyknow. I only know whathetoldMrs.Roman—whathetoldme.Itdoesn’tmakeany sense.” He sighed.“Well,thisiswhathesays.Sometime after midnight,he heard people at his

door. He’d spent most oftheeveningtryingtobatheher, but after that he fellasleep.He didn’twake upuntil these people beganacting like theywanted totearthedoordown.“He didn’t have to askthemwhat theywanted. Iguess he’s been expectingsomething like this eversince Joan showed up.Hewent and got his shotgun

—did you know he had ashotgun?HadMrs.Romanbuy it for him last week.For self-defense—as ifbeing a leperwasn’tmoredefense than he ever hadany use for.” SeeingLinden’s impatience, hewent back to his story.“Anyway, he got his gun,and turned on all thelights.Thenheopenedthedoor.

“They came in—maybehalf a dozen of them. Hesays they wore sackclothand ashes.” Dr. Berenfordgrimaced. “If herecognizedanyofthem,hewon’t admit it. He wavedthe shotgun at them andtold them they couldn’thaveher.“But they acted as if

they wanted to be shot.And when it came right

down to it, he couldn’t.Not even to save his ex-wife.” He shook his head.“Hetriedtofightthemoffbymain strength, but oneagainst six,hedidn’thavemuchchance.“Sometime early this

morning, he came to longenough to call Mrs.Roman.Hewasincoherent—kepttellinghertostartasearch, only he couldn’t

explain why—but at leasthe had sense enough toknow he needed help.Thenhepassedout again.When she got here, shefoundhimunconsciousonthefloor.Therewasbloodeverywhere.Whoevertheywere,theymusthavebledanentire cow.”Hegulpedcoffee as if it were anantidoteforthereekintheair. “Well, shegothimon

hisfeet,andhetookhertocheck on Joan. She wasgone. Restraints had beencut.”“They didn’t kill her?”interjectedLinden.He glanced at her. “Hesays no. How he knows—your guess is as good asmine.”Afteramoment,heresumed, “Anyway, Mrs.Roman calledme.When Igot here, she left to see

what she could do aboutfinding Joan. I’veexamined him, and heseems to be all right.Suffering from exhaustionasmuchasanythingelse.”Linden shrugged aside

her doubts aboutCovenant’s condition. “I’llwatchhim.”He nodded. “That was

whyIcalledforyou.”She drank some of her

coffee to steady herself,then inquired carefully,“Do you know who theywere?”“I asked him that,” Dr.

Berenford replied with afrown. “He said, ‘How thehellshouldIknow?’”“Well, then, what do

theywantwithher?”He thought for a

moment, then said, “Youknow,theworstpartabout

thewholethingis—Ithinkheknows.”Frustration made her

querulous. “So why won’thetellus?”“Hard to say,” said the

doctor slowly. “I think hethinks if we knew whatwas going on we’d try tostophim.”Linden did not respond.

She was no longerprepared to try toprevent

Thomas Covenant fromdoing anything. But shewasequallydetermined tolearnthetruthaboutJoan,about him—and, yes,about the old man in theochre robe. For her ownsake. And for Covenant’s.In spite of his fierceindependence, she couldnot shake the convictionthathewasdesperately inneedofhelp.

“Which is anotherreasonforyoutostay,”theoldermanmuttered as herosetohisfeet.“I’vegottogo. But somebody has toprevent him from doinganythingcrazy.Somedays—”Hisvoicetrailedaway,then cameback in suddenvexation. “My God, somedays I think that manneeds a keeper, not adoctor.” For the first time

since her arrival, he facedher squarely. “Will youkeephim?”Shecouldseehewanted

reassurance that sheshared his sense ofresponsibilityforCovenantand Joan. She could notmake such a promise. Butshe could offer himsomething similar. “Well,at any rate,” she saidseverely,“Iwon’tletgoof

him.”He nodded vaguely. He

was no longer looking ather. As he moved towardthe door, he murmured,“Be patient with him. It’sbeen so long sincehemetsomebodywho isn’tafraidof him, he doesn’t knowwhattodoaboutit.Whenhewakesup,makehimeatsomething.” Then he leftthehouse,wentout tohis

car.Lindenwatcheduntilhe

disappearedindusttowardthe highway. Then sheturned back to the livingroom.What to do about it?

LikeCovenant,shedidnotknow. But she meant tofind out. The smell ofblood made her feelunclean; but shesuppressed the sensation

long enough to fix abreakfast forherself.Thenshe tackled the livingroom.With a scrub brush and

a bucket of soapy water,she attacked the stains asif they were an affront toher. Deep within her,where her guilt andcoercion had their roots,shefeltthatbloodwaslife—a thing of value, too

precious to be squanderedanddenied,asherparentshad squandered anddenied it. Grimly shescrubbed at the madnessor malice which hadviolated this room, tryingtoeradicateit.Whenever she needed abreak, shewentquietly tolook at Covenant. Hisbruises gave his face amisshapen look. His sleep

seemed agitated, but heshowednosignofdriftinginto coma. Occasionally,themovementsofhiseyesbetrayed that he wasdreaming. He slept withhis mouth open like asilent cry; and once hischeeks were wet withtears. Her heart went outtohimashe lay stretchedthere, disconsolate andvulnerable.Hehadsolittle

respect for his ownmortality.Shortlyafternoon,while

she was still at work, hecame out of his bedroom.He moved groggily, hisgaitblurredwithsleep.Hepeered at her across theroom as if he weresummoning anger; but hisvoice held nothing exceptresignation. “You can’thelp her now. You might

aswellgohome.”She stood up to face

him.“Iwanttohelpyou.”“Icanhandleit.”Linden swallowed bile,

triednottosoundacerbic.“Somehow you don’t lookthat tough. You couldn’tstopthemfromtakingher.How are you going tomake them give herback?”His eyes widened; her

guess had struck home.But he did not waver. Heseemed almost inhumanlycalm—or doomed. “Theydon’twanther.She’sjustaway for them to get atme.”“You?” Was he

paranoiac after all? “Areyou trying to tell me thatthiswholethinghappenedto her because of you?Why?”

“Ihaven’tfoundthatoutyet.”“No. I mean, why doyou think this hasanything to do with you?If they wanted you, whydidn’t they just take you?Youcouldn’thavestoppedthem.”“Because it has to bevoluntary.” His voice hadthe flat timbre of over-stressed cable in a high

wind. He should havesnapped long ago. But hedid not sound like a manwho snapped. “He can’tjust force me. I have tochoosetodoit.Joan—”Asurgeofdarknessoccludedhis eyes. “She’s just hisway of exerting pressure.Hehas to take the chancethatImightrefuse.”He. Linden’s breathingcame heavily. “You keep

sayinghe.Whoishe?”Hisfrownmadehisface

seem even moremalformed. “Leave italone.” He was trying towarn her. “You don’tbelieveinpossession.Howcan Imakeyoubelieve inpossessors?”She took his warning,

but not in the way heintended.Hintsofpurpose—half guesswork, half

determination—unexpectedly lit herthoughts. A way to learnthe truth. He had said,You’regoingtohavetofindsomewaytodoitbehindmyback.Well,byGod, if thatwas what she had to do,shewoulddoit.“All right,” she said,

glaring at him to concealher intentions. “I can’tmakeyoumakesense.Just

tell me one thing. Whowas that old man? Youknewhim.”Covenant returned her

stareasifhedidnotmeanto answer. But then herelented stiffly. “Aharbinger. Or a warning.Whenheshowsup,you’veonlygottwochoices.Giveup everything you everunderstood, and takeyourchances. Or run for your

life. The problem is”—histone took on a peculiarresonance, as if he weretryingtosaymorethanhecouldput intowords—“hedoesn’t usually waste histimetalkingtothekindofpeoplewhorunaway.Andyou can’t possibly knowwhatyou’regettinginto.”She winced inwardly,

fearing that he hadguessedherintent.Butshe

held herself firm. “Whydon’tyoutellme?”“I can’t.” His intensitywas gone, transformedback into resignation. “It’slikesigningablankcheck.That kind of trust,foolhardiness, wealth,whatever, doesn’t meananythingifyouknowhowmuchthecheckisgoingtobe for. You either sign oryou don’t. How much do

youthinkyoucanafford?”“Well,inanycase”—sheshrugged—“Idon’tplantosignanyblankchecks.I’vedoneaboutall I canstandto cleanup thisplace. I’mgoing home.” She couldnotmeethisscrutiny.“Dr.Berenford wants you toeat.Areyougoingtodoit,or do I have to send himbackouthere?”He did not answer her

question. “Goodbye, Dr.Avery.”“Oh, dear God,” she

protestedinasuddenrushofdismayathisloneliness.“I’m probably going tospend the rest of the dayworrying about you. AtleastcallmeLinden.”“Linden.” His voice

denied all emotion. “I canhandleit.”“I know,” she

murmured,half toherself.Shewentoutintothethickafternoon.I’mtheonewhoneedshelp.Onherwayback toher

apartment, she noticedthat the woman andchildren who advisedrepentance were nowheretobeseen.

Several hours later, as

sunset dwindled intotwilight, streaking thestreetswithmuggyorangeand pink, shewas drivingagain. She had showeredand rested; she haddressed herself in achecked flannel shirt,tough jeans, and a pair ofsturdy hiking shoes. Shedrove slowly, giving theevening time to darken.Half a mile before she

reached Haven Farm, sheturnedoffherheadlights.Leaving the highway,shetookthefirstsideroadto one of the abandonedhousesontheFarm.Thereshe parked her car andlocked it to protect hermedicalbagandpurse.Onfoot,sheapproachedCovenant’shouse.Asmuchaspossible,shehidherselfamongthetreesalongthat

side of the Farm. Shewasgamblingthatshewasnottoo late, that the peoplewhohadtakenJoanwouldnot have done anythingduringtheafternoon.Fromthe trees, she hastenedstealthilytothewallofthehouse. There, she found awindowwhich gave her aview of the living roomwithout exposing her tothedoor.

Thelightswereon.Withallhercaution,shelookedinonThomasCovenant.He slouched in the

centerof thesofawithhisheadbowedandhishandsin his pockets, as if hewere waiting forsomething.Hisbruiseshaddarkened, giving him thevisage of a man who hadalready been beaten. Themuscles along his jaw

bunched,relaxed,bunchedagain.Hestrovetopossesshimself in patience; butafteramomentthetensionimpelled him to his feet.Hebegantowalkincirclesaroundthesofaandcoffeetable.Hismovementswererigid, denying themortalityofhisheart.So that she would not

havetowatchhim,Lindenlowered herself to the

groundandsatagainstthewall. Hidden by thedarkness, she waited withhim.She did not like what

she was doing. It was aviolation of his privacy,completely unprofessional.But her ignorance and hisstubbornness wereintolerable. She had anabsolute need tounderstandwhathadmade

her quail when she hadfacedJoan.Shedidnothavetowait

long. Scant minutes aftershe had settled herself,abruptfeetapproachedthehouse.The lurching of her

heart almost daunted her.But she resisted it.Carefully she raised herheadtothewindowjustasa fist hammered at the

door.Covenantflinchedatthesound. Dread knurled hisface.ThesightofhisreactionstungLinden.Hewassucha potent individual,seemed to have so manystrengths which shelacked. How had he beenbroughttothis?But an instant later hecrushed his fear as if he

werestampingontheneckofaviper.Defyinghisownweakness, he strodetowardthedoor.It opened before hereached it. A lone manstepped uninvited out ofthedark.Lindencouldseehim clearly. He woreburlapwoundaroundhimlike cerements. Ash hadbeenrubbedunevenlyintohis hair, smeared thickly

over his cheeks. Itemphasized the deadnessof his eyes, so that helooked like a ghoul inmasque.“Covenant?” Like his

mien,hisvoicewasashen,dead.Covenantfacedtheman.

Heseemedsuddenlytaller,as if he were elevated byhisownhardgrasponlife.“Yes.”

“ThomasCovenant?”The writer nodded

impatiently.“Whatdoyouwant?”“The hour of judgment

is at hand.” The manstared into the room as ifhewereblind.“TheMastercalls for your soul. Willyoucome?”Covenant’s mouth

twistedintoasnarl.“Yourmaster knows what I can

dotohim.”The man did not react.

Hewentonasifhisspeechhad already been arrayedfor burial. “The womanwill be sacrificed at therising of the full moon.Expiation must be madeforsin.Shewillpayifyoudo not. This is thecommandment of theMaster of life and death.Willyoucome?”

Sacrificed? Lindengaped. Expiation? A flushof indignation burned herskin.Whatthehell—?Covenant’s shouldersknotted. His eyes flamedwith extreme promises,threats.“I’llcome.”No flicker ofconsciousness animatedthe man’s gray features.He turned like amarionette and retreated

intothenight.Foramoment,Covenantstood still. His armshugged his chest as if tostifle an outcry; his headstretched back in anguish.The bruises marked hisfacelikeabereavement.But then he moved.With a violence thatstartled Linden, appalledher, he struck himselfacross the cheek with his

half-hand. Abruptly, hethrew himself into thedarkness after hissummoner.Linden almost lost her

chance to follow. She feltstunned by dismay. TheMaster—? Sacrificed?Dreadsanddoubtscrawledher skin like vermin. Theman in burlap had lookedso insentient—soullessmore than any animal.

Drugs?Or—?Howeverhemayassail—Was Covenant right?

About the oldman, aboutpossession? About thepurpose—? She’s just awayforthemtogetatme.Sacrificed?Oh, dear God! Theman

in burlap appeared insaneenough,lostenough,tobedangerous. And Covenant—?Covenantwas capable

ofanything.Her guess at what he

was doing galvanized her.Fear for him brokethrough her personalapprehension, sent herhurrying around thecorner of the house inpursuit.His summoner had led

him away from thehighway, away from thehouse into the woods.

Lindencouldheartheminthe brush; without light,theywereunable tomovequietly. As her eyesadjusted, she glimpsedthem ahead of her,flickering like shadows inand out of the variegateddark.Shefollowedthem.They traveled blindly

through the woods, overhills and along valleys.Theyusednopath;Linden

had the impression thatthey were cutting asstraight as a plumb linetoward their destination.And as they moved, thenight seemed to mountaround her, growingsteadily more hostile asher trepidation increased.The trees and brushbecame malevolent, as ifshe were passing intoanotherwoodaltogether,a

place of hazard and cruelintent.Then a hill lay acrosstheir way. Covenant andhis summoner ascended,disappearedover the crestinastrangeflareoforangelight.Itpickedthemoutofthe dark, then quenchedthem like an instant oftranslation. Warned bythat brief gleam, Lindenclimbed slowly. The

keening of her nervesseemed loud in theblackness. The last fewyards she crossed on herhands and knees, keepingherselfwithinthecoveroftheunderbrush.As her head crested the

hill, she was struck by ablaze of light. Fireinvisibleafootawayburstin her face as if she hadjust penetrated the

boundary of dreams. Foraninstant,shewasblindedby the light, paralyzed bythe silence. The nightswallowed all sound,leaving the air empty oflife.Blinking furiously, she

peeredpastthehillcrest.Beyond her lay a deep

barren hollow. Its slopeswere devoid of grass,brush, trees, as if the soil

hadbeenscouredbyacid.A bonfire burned at the

bottom of the hollow. Itsflames sprangupward likelust,writhedlikemadness;but it made no noise.Seeing it, Linden felt thatshehadbeenstrickendeaf.Impossiblethatsuchafirecouldblazeinsilence.Nearthefirestretcheda

roughplaneofnativerock,perhaps ten feet across. A

large triangle had beenpaintedonitinred—colorascrimsonasfreshblood.Joan lay on her backwithin the triangle. Shedidnotmove,appearedtobe unconscious; only theslow lifting of her chestagainst her nightgownshowedthatshewasalive.People clustered aroundher, twenty or thirty ofthem. Men, women,

children—all dressed inhabiliments of burlap; allmasked with gray as ifthey had been wallowingin ashes. They were asgaunt as icons of hunger.They gazed out of eyes asdead as if the mindsbehindtheirorbshadbeenextirpated—eyes whichhad been dispossessed ofevery vestige of will orspirit. Even the children

stood like puppets andmadenosound.Their faces were turned

towardaplaceonLinden’sleft.Toward Thomas

Covenant.He stood halfway down

the hillside, confrontingthe fire across thebarrenness of the hollow.Hisshouldershunched;hishands were fists at his

sides, and his head wasthrust combativelyforward. His chest heavedas if he were full ofdenunciations.Nobody moved, spoke,

blinked. The air wasintense with silence likeconcentratedcoercion.Abruptly, Covenant

grated through his teeth,“I’m here.” The clench ofhisthroatmadeeachword

sound like a self-inflictedwound.“Lethergo.”A movement snatched

Linden’s attention back tothe bottom of the hollow.A man brawnier than therest changed positions,took a stance on the rockatthepointofthetriangle,above Joan’s head. Heraised his arms, revealinga long, curved daggergrippedinhisrightfist.In

ashrillvoicelikeamanonthe verge of ecstasy, heshouted, “It is time! Weare thewill of theMasterof life and death! This isthehourofretributionandcleansingandblood!Letusopen the way for theMaster’spresence!”The night sucked his

voiceoutoftheair,leftinits place a stillness assharp as a cut. For a

moment, nothinghappened.Covenant took a stepdownward, then jerked toahalt.A woman near the fireshambled forward. Lindennearlygaspedaloudassherecognized the womanwhohadstoodonthestepsofthecourthouse,warningpeopletorepent.Withherthree children behind her,

sheapproachedtheblaze.She bowed to it like adeadwoman.Blanklysheputherrighthandintotheflames.Ashriekofpainrentthenight. She recoiled fromthe fire, fell in agony tothebareground.A red quivering ranthrough the flames like aspasm of desire. The fireseemed to mount as if it

fedonthewoman’spain.Linden’s muscles

bunched,achedtohurlhertoher feet. Shewanted toshoutherhorror, stop thisatrocity. But her limbswere locked. Images ofdesperation or evil frozeher where she crouched.All these peoplewere likeJoan.Then the woman

regained her feet and

stood as dumbly as if thenervestoherburnedhandhad been severed. Hergazereturned toCovenantlikeacompulsion,exertingitsdemandagainsthim.The oldest of her

children took her place atthebonfire.No! Linden cried,

striving uselessly to breakthesilence.The young boy bowed,

thrust his emaciated armintotheblaze.His wail broke Linden’s

will, left her panting inhelpless abomination. Shecouldnotmove,couldnotlook away. Loathings forwhich she had no namemasteredher.Theboy’syounger sister

didwhathehaddone,asifhis agony meant nothingtoher.And the thirdwaif

followed in turn,surrendering her flesh toharm like lifeless tissueanimated solely forimmolation.ThenLindenwouldhavemoved. The rigidabhorrence of Covenant’sstance showed that hewould have moved. Butthefirestoppedthem,heldthem. At every taste offlesh, lust flared through

it;flamesragedhigher.A figure began to takeshape in the heart of theblaze.More people moved tosacrifice their hands. Asthey did so, the figuresolidified.Itwasindistinctin the flames; but theglaringredoutlinedamaninaflowingrobe.Hestoodblood-limned with hisarms folded across his

powerful chest—createdbypainoutoffireandself-abandonment.Theworshipperwiththe

knife sank to his knees,cried out in exaltation,“Master!”The figure’s eyes were

like fangs, carious andyellow; and they ragedvenomously out of theflames. Their malignancecowed Linden like a

personal assault on hersanity, her conception oflife. They were rabid anddeliberate, like voluntarydisease, fetid corruption.Nothing inallher lifehadreadied her to witnesssuchpalpablehate.Across the stillness, she

heard Covenant gasp infury, “Foul! Evenchildren?” But his wrathcould not penetrate the

dread which paralyzedher. For her, the fierysilence was punctuatedonly by the screaming oftheburned.Thenthemoonbeganto

riseoppositeher.Arimaswhite as bone crested thehill, lookeddown into thehollowlikealeer.Themanwith the knife

cametohis feet.Againheraised his arms,

brandishedhisdagger.Hispersonal transport wasapproaching its climax. Ina shout like a moan, hecried,“Nowis thehourofapocalypse! The Masterhascome!Doomisathandfor those who seek tothwart His will. Now wewill witness vengeanceagainst sin and life, wewho have watched andwaitedandsufferedinHis

name. Here we fulfill thevisionthatwasgiventous.We have touched the fire,and we have beenredeemed!”His voice roseuntilhewasshriekinglikethe burned. “Nowwewillbring all wickedness toblood and eternaltorment!”He’s mad. Linden clungto that thought, fought tothink of these people as

fanatics, driven wild bydestitution and fear.They’re all crazy. This isimpossible. But she couldnotmove.And Covenant did not

move.Sheyearnedforhimtodosomething,breakthetrance somehow, rescueJoan, save Linden herselffromherextremity.Butheremained motionless,watching the fire as if he

were trapped betweensavageryandhelplessness.The figure in the blazestirred. His eyes focusedthe flames like twin scarsof malice, searingeverything with hiscontempt. His right armmade a gesture as final asasentenceofexecution.At once, the brawnymandroppedtohisknees.Bending over Joan, he

bared her throat. She laylimp under him, frail andlost. The skin of her neckseemed to gleam in thefirelight like a plea forhelp.Trembling as if hewererapturous or terrified, theman set his blade againstJoan’swhitethroat.Now the people in thehollow stared emptily athis hands. They appeared

to have lost all interest inCovenant. Their silencewas appalling. The man’shandsshook.“Stop!”Covenant’s shout

scourgedtheair.“You’ve done enough!

Lethergo!”The baleful eyes in the

fire swung at him, nailedhimwith denigration. Theworshipper at Joan’s

throat stared whitelyupward.“Releaseher?”hecroaked.“Why?”“Becauseyoudon’thave

to do this!” Anger andsupplication thickenedCovenant’s tone. “I don’tknow how you weredriven to this. I don’tknow what went wrongwith your life. But youdon’thavetodoit.”The man did not blink;

the eyes in the fireclenchedhim.DeliberatelyheknottedhisfreehandinJoan’shair.“All right!” Covenant

barked immediately. “Allright. I accept. I’ll tradeyou.Meforher.”“No.” Linden strove to

shout aloud, but her crywas barely a whisper.“No.”Theworshipperswereas

silentasgravestones.Slowlythemanwiththe

knife rose to his feet. Healone seemed to have thecapacity to feel triumph;hewas grinning ferally ashesaid,“ItisastheMasterpromised.”He steppedback.At the

same time, a quiver ranthrough Joan. She raisedher head, gaped aroundher. Her face was free of

possession. Movingawkwardly,sheclimbedtoher feet. Bewildered andafraid,shesearchedforanescape, for anything shecouldunderstand.ShesawCovenant.“Tom!” Springing from

the rock, she fled towardhimandthrewherselfintohisarms.He hugged her, strained

his arms around her as if

he could not bear to loseher. But then, roughly, hepushed her away. “Gohome,” he ordered. “It’sover. You’ll be safe now.”He faced her in the rightdirection, urged her intomotion.She stopped and looked

at him, imploring him togowithher.“Don’tworryaboutme.”

A difficult tenderness

softened his tone. “You’resafe now—that’s theimportant thing. I’ll be allright.” Somehow hemanagedtosmile.Hiseyesbetrayed his pain. Thelight from the fire castshadows of self-defianceacross his bruised mien.And yet his smileexpressed so much valorandruethatthesightofittoreLinden’sheart.

Kneeling with her headbowed and hot tears onher cheeks, she sensedratherthansawJoanleavethe hollow. She could notbeartowatchasCovenantmoved down the hillside.I’m the only one who canhelp her. He wascommitting a kind ofsuicide.Suicide. Linden’s father

had killed himself. Her

mother had begged fordeath. Her revulsiontoward such things was acompellingobsession.But Thomas Covenant

hadchosentodie.Andhehadsmiled.ForJoan’ssake.Linden had never seen

onepersondosomuchforanother.Shecouldnotendure it.

Shealreadyhad toomuch

blood on her hands.Dashingthetearsfromhereyes,shelookedup.Covenantmoved amongthe people as if he werebeyond hope. The manwith theknife guidedhiminto the triangle of blood.Thecariouseyesinthefireblazedavidly.Itwastoomuch.Withapassionatewrench, Lindenbroke the hold of her

dismay,jumpedupright.“Over here!” she yelled.“Police! Hurry! They’reoverhere!”Sheflailedherarms as if she weresignaling topeoplebehindher.The eyes of the firewhipped at her, hit herwith withering force. Inthat instant, she feltcompletelyvulnerable, feltallhersecretsexposedand

devoured.But she ignoredthe eyes. She speddownward, daring theworshipperstobelieveshewasalone.Covenantwhirled in the

triangle. Every line of hisstancehowled,No!People cried out. Her

charge seemed to shatterthe tranceof the fire. Theworshippers were throwninto confusion. They fled

in all directions, scatteredasifshehadunpentavastpressure of repugnance.For an instant, she waswildwithhope.But the man with the

knifedidnotflee.Therageofthebonfireexaltedhim.He slapped his armsaround Covenant, threwhim to the stone, kickedhimsothathelayflat.The knife—! Covenant

wastoostunnedtomove.Linden hurled herself at

the man, grappled for hisarms. He was slick withashes,andstrong.Shelosthergrip.Covenant struggled to

roll over. Swiftly themanstooped to him, pinnedhimwithonehand, raisedtheknifeintheother.Linden attacked again,

blocked the knife. Her

fingernails gouged theman’sface.Yowling, he dealt her a

blow which stretched herontherock.Everything reeled.

Darknessspunatherfromallsides.Shesawtheknifeflash.Thentheeyesofthefire

blazedather,andshewaslost in a yellow triumphthat roared like the

furnaceofthesun.

PARTI:Need

FOUR:“YouAreMine”

Red agony spiked thecenter of ThomasCovenant’s chest. He feltthathewasscreaming.Butthe firewas toobright;hecould not hear himself.From the wound, flamewrithed through him,mapping his nerves like aterritoryofpain.Hecouldnotfightit,

Hedidnotwanttofightit. He had saved Joan.Saved Joan. That thoughtiterated through him,consoling him for theunanswerable violence ofthe wound. For the firsttime in eleven years, hewas at peace with his ex-wife. He had repaid theold debt between them tothe limit of his mortality;hehadgiveneverythinghe

possessed to makerestitution for theblameless crime of hisleprosy. Nothing morecouldbeaskedofhim.Butthefirehadavoice.

At first, itwas too loudtobe understood. It retortedin his ears like thecrushing of boulders. Heinhaled it with everyfailing breath; it echoedalong the conflagration in

his chest. But gradually itbecame clear. It utteredwordsasheavyasstones.

“Yourwillismine—Youhavenohopeoflifewithoutme,Havenolifeorhopewithoutme.Allismine.

“Your heart is

mine—There is no love orpeacewithinyou,Is no peace or lovewithinyou.Allismine.

“Yoursoulismine—Youcannotdreamofyoursalvation,Cannot plead foryoursalvation.

Youaremine.”

The arrogance of thewords filled him withrepudiation.Heknew thatvoice. He had spent tenyears strengtheninghimself against it,tightening his grip on thetruth of love and ragewhichhadenabledhim tomaster it. And still it hadthepowertoappallhim.It

thronged with relish forthe misery of lepers. Itclaimed him and wouldnotlethimgo.Nowhewantedtofight.He wanted to live. Hecould not bear to let thatvoice have its way withhim.But theknifehadstrucktoodeeply;thewoundwascomplete. A numbnesscreptthroughhim,andthe

redfirefadedtowardmist.Hehadnopulse,couldnotremember breathing.Couldnot—Out of the mist, he

rememberedLindenAvery.Hellfire!She had followed him,

even though he hadwarned her—warned herinspiteofthefactthatshehadobviouslybeenchosento fulfill some essential

role. He had been so torn—She had given anexcruciating twist to hisdilemma, had dismayedand infuriated him withher determination tomeddle in matters shecould not comprehend.And yet she was the firstwomanhehadmet in tenyears who was not afraidofhim.And she had fallen

beside him, trying to savehis life. The man hadstruck her; the fire hadcovered her as it reachedforhim. If shewerebeingtakentotheLand—!Of course shewas.Why

else had the old manaccostedher?But she had neither

knowledgenorpowerwithwhich to defend herself,hadnoway tounderstand

what was happening toher.Blindly Covenant

struggled against thenumbness, resisted thevoice. Linden had tried tosavehis life.Hecouldnotleave her to face such adoom alone.Wrath at thebrutality of her plightcrowdedhisheart.Byhell!he raged. You can’t dothis!

Suddenly a resurgenceoffireburnedoutofhim—pure white flame, the fireof his need. Itconcentrated in the knifewound, screamed throughhischestlikeanapotheosisor cautery. Heathammeredathisheart,hislungs, his half-hand. Hisbody arched in ire andpain.The next instant, the

crisisbroke.Palpablereliefpoured through him. Thepain receded, leaving himlimp and gasping on thestone. The mist swirledwith malice, but did nottouchhim.“Ah, you are stubbornyet,” thevoicesneered, sopersonal in its contemptthat it might have comefrom within his mindratherthanfromtheattar-

laden air. “Stubbornbeyondmyfondestdesires.In one stroke you haveensured your own defeat.My will commands now,and you are lost.Groveler!”Covenantflinchedatthe

virulenceofthesound.LordFoul.“Doyoumislikethetitle

I have given you?” TheDespiser spoke softly,

hardly above a whisper;but his quietness onlyemphasizedhissharphate.“You will merit itabsolutely.Neverhaveyoubeenmoretrulymine.Youbelievethatyouhavebeennear unto death. That isfalse,groveler!Iwouldnotpermit you to die. I willobtain far better servicefromyourlife.”Covenant wanted to

strikeoutat themist, flailit away from him. But hewas too weak. He lay onthe stone as if his limbshad been bled dry. Heneeded all his will todredge his voice back tolife.“Idon’tbelieveit,”hepanted hoarsely. “Youcan’t be stupid enough totrythisagain.”“Ah, you do not

believe,” jeeredLordFoul.

“Misdoubt it, then.Disbelieve,andIwillrendyour very soul from yourbones!”No! Covenant rasped in

silence. I’ve had ten yearsto understand whathappened the last time.You can’t do that to meagain.“You will grovel before

me,”theDespiserwenton,“and call it joy. Your

victory over me wasnothing.Itservesmewell.Plans which I planted inmy anguish have come tofruit. Time is altered. Theworld is not what it was.You are changed,Unbeliever.” The mistmade that word,Unbeliever, into a name ofsovereign scorn. “You areno longer free. You havesold yourself for that

paltrywomanwholoathesyou. When you acceptedher life from me, youbecame my tool. A tooldoes not choose. Did notmyEnemyexpoundtoyouthe necessity of freedom?Your very presence hereempowers me to masteryou.”Covenant flinched. Lord

Foul spoke the truth; hewas not free. In trading

himself for Joan, he hadcommitted himself tosomething he couldneithermeasurenorrecall.Hewanted to cryout;buthewas too angry to showthatmuchweakness.“We are foemen, youand I,” continued LordFoul,“enemies to theend.But theendwillbeyours,Unbeliever,notmine.Thatyou will learn to believe.

For a score of centuries Ilay entombed in the Landwhich I abhor, capable ofnaught but revulsion. Butin time I was restored tomyself.Fornearlyasmanycenturies more, I havebeenpreparingretribution.When last comes to last,youwillbetheinstrumentofmyvictory.”Bloody hell! Covenantgaggedonthethicknessof

the mist and Lord Foul’svitriol.Buthispassionwasclear. I won’t let you dothis!“Nowhearme,groveler.

Hearmyprophecy.Itisforyour ears alone—forbehold!therearenoneleftin the Land to whom youcoulddeliverit.”That hurt him. None?

WhathadhappenedtotheLords?

But the Despiser wenton remorselessly,mockingCovenant by his verysoftness.“No,toyoualoneI say it: tremble in yourheart, for the ill that youdeemmostterribleisuponyou! Your former victoryaccomplished naught buttopreparethewayforthismoment. I am Lord Foulthe Despiser, and I speakthe oneword of truth. To

youIsayit:thewildmagicisnolongerpotentagainstme! It cannot serve younow. No power willsuffice.“Unbeliever, you cannotoppose me. At the lastthere will be but onechoice for you, and youwillmakeitinalldespair.Of your own volition youwill give the white goldintomyhand.”

No! Covenant shouted.No! But he could notpenetrate Lord Foul’scertitude.“Knowing that I willmakeuseofthatpowertodestroytheEarth,youwillplaceitintomyhand,andno hope or chance underall the Arch of Time canpreventyou!“Yes, tremble, groveler!Thereisdespairlaidupfor

you here beyond anythingyour petty mortal heartcanbear!”The passionate whisper

threatened to crushCovenant against thestone. He wailed refusalsand curses, but they hadno force, could not drivetheattarfromhisthroat.ThenLordFoulbeganto

chuckle.Thecorruptionofdeath clogged the air. For

a long moment, Covenantretchedasifthemusclesofhischestwerebreaking.But as he gagged, thejeering drifted away fromhim. Wind sifted throughit, pulling the mist apart.Thewindwascold,asifachill of laughter rode it,echoing soundlessly; butthe atmosphere grewbright as the mist frayedandvanished.

Covenant lay on hisback under a brilliantazure sky and a strangesun.The sunwaswell up inthe heavens. The centralglare of its light wasfamiliar,comforting.Butitwore a blue corona like aring of sapphire; and itsradiancedeepenedtherestoftheskytothetextureofsendaline.

He squinted at itdumbly, too stunned tomoveorreact.Ofyourownvolition—Thesun’sauroradisturbedhiminawayhecould not define. Planswhich I planted in myanguish—Shiftingasithadamindofitsown,hisrighthand slowly probedtowardthespotwheretheknifehadstruckhim.His fingers were too

numbtotellhimanything.But he could feel theirpressure on his chest. Hecould feel their touchwhentheyslippedthroughtheslitinthecenterofhisT-shirt.Therewasnopain.He withdrew his hand,

took his gaze out of theskytolookathisfingers.Therewasnoblood.He sat up with a jerk

that made his head reel.For a moment, he had toprop himself up with hisarms. Blinking against thesun-dazzle, he forced hiseyes into focus on hischest.Hisshirthadbeencut—a slash the width of hishand just below hissternum. Under it lay thewhitelineofanewscar.Hegapedatit.How—?

Youarestubbornyet.Hadhe healed himself? Withwildmagic?He did not know. Hehad not been conscious ofwieldinganypower.Couldhehavedonesuchathingunconsciously? High LordMhoram had once said tohim,Youarethewhitegold.Did that mean he wascapable of using powerwithout knowing it?

Withoutbeingincontrolofit?Hellfire!Long moments passed

before he realized that hewas facing a parapet. Hewassittingononesideofaround stone slab encircledby a low wall, chest-highonhiminthisposition.A jolt of recognition

brought him out of hisstupor.Heknewthisplace.Kevin’sWatch.

Foran instant,heaskedhimself, Why here? Butthenachainofconnectionsjumpedtaut

inhim,andhewhirled,tofind Linden stretchedunconsciousbehindhim.Healmostpanicked.She

lay completely still. Hereyes were open, but shesaw nothing. The musclesof her limbs hung slackagainstthebones.Herhair

was tangled across herface.Blood seeped in slow

dropsfrombehindher leftear.Youaremine.Suddenly Covenant was

sweatinginthecoolair.He gripped her

shoulders, shookher, thensnatchedupher lefthand,started to slap her wrist.Herheadrolledinprotest.

A whimper tightened herlips. She began to writhe.He dropped her arm,clamped his hands to thesides of her face to keepher from hurting herselfagainstthestone.Abruptly her gazesprang outward. She drewa harsh gasp of air andscreamed.Hercrysoundedlike destitution under theimmense sky and the

strangeblue-ringedsun.“Linden!” he shouted.She sucked air to howlagain.“Linden!”Her eyes lurched intofocus on him, flared inhorrororrageasifhehadthreatened her withleprosy.Fiercely, she struck himacrossthecheek.He recoiled, more insurprisethaninpain.

“You bastard,” shepanted, surging to herknees. “Haven’t you evengot the guts to go onliving?” She inhaleddeeply to yell at him. Butbefore she could releaseherire,dismayknottedherfeatures.Herhandsleapedto her mouth, thencoveredherface.Shegavea muffled groan. “Oh myGod.”

He stared at her inconfusion. What hadhappened to her? Hewantedtochallengeheratonce, demand an answer.But the situation was toocomplex. And she wastotally unprepared for it.Herememberedvividlyhisfirst appearance here. IfLenahadnotextendedherhand to him, he wouldhave died in vertigo and

madness. Itwas toomuchfor anymind to accept. Ifonly she had listened tohim, stayed out of danger—Butshehadnotlistened.Shewashere,andinneed.She did not yet know theextentofherneed.Forhersake, he forced asemblance of gentlenessinto his voice. “Youwantedtounderstand,and

I kept telling you youweren’t equipped. Now Ithink you’re going tounderstand whether youwanttoornot.”“Covenant,”shemoanedthrough her hands.“Covenant.”“Linden.” Carefully hetouched her wrists, urgedhertolowerherarms.“Covenant—” She baredher face to him. Her eyes

were brown, deep andmoist, and dark with therepercussionsoffear.Theyshied from his, thenreturned. “I must havebeendreaming.”Hervoicequavered, “I thought youweremyfather.”He smiled for her,thoughthestrainmadehisbattered bones ache.Father? He wanted topursue that, but did not.

Otherquestionsweremoreimmediate.But before he could

frame an inquiry, shebegan to recollect herself.Sheranherhandsthroughherhair,wincedwhenshetouched the injury behindherear.Foramoment,shelooked at the trace ofbloodonherfingers.Thenother memories returned.She gasped sharply. Her

eyes jerked to his chest.“Theknife—”Herurgencywas almost an attack. “Isaw—” She grabbed forhim, yanked up his shirt,gaped at the new scarunder his sternum. Itappalled her. Her handsreachedtowardit,flinchedaway. Her voice was ahoarse whisper. “That’snotpossible.”“Listen.” He raised her

head with his left hand,made her meet his gaze.Hewanted todistracther,prepare her. “Whathappened to you? Thatmanhit you.The firewasall over us. Whathappenedafterthat?”“Whathappenedtoyou?”“One thing at a time.”The exertion of keepinghimself steady made himsoundgrim.“Therearetoo

many other things youhave to understand first.Please give me a chance.Tellmewhathappened.”She pulled away. Her

whole body rejected hisquestion. One tremblingfingerpointedathischest.“That’simpossible.”Impossible. At that

moment, he could haveoverwhelmed her withimpossibilities. But he

refrained, permittedhimself to sayonly, “So ispossession.”She met his gazemiserably. Then her eyesclosed.Inalowvoice,shesaid, “I must have beenunconscious. I wasdreaming about myparents.”“You didn’t hearanything? A voicemakingthreats?”

Her eyes snapped openin surprise. “No. WhywouldI?”He bowed his head tohide his turmoil. Foulhadn’t spoken toher?Theimplications both relievedand frightened him. Wasshe somehow independentof him? Free of hiscontrol?Orwashealreadythatsureofher?When Covenant looked

up again, Linden’sattentionhadslippedawaytotheparapet,thesun,thewide sky. Slowly her facefroze. She started to herfeet.“Wherearewe?”He caught her arms,heldhersitting in frontofhim. “Look at me.” Herhead winced from side toside in frantic denial.Exigencies thronged abouthim; questions were

everywhere. But at thismoment the stark need inher face dominated allother issues. “Dr. Avery.”There was insanity in theair; he knew that fromexperience. If he did nothelp her now, she mightnever be within reach ofhelpagain.“Lookatme.”Hisdemandbroughtherwildstarebacktohim.“I can explain it. Just

givemeachance.”Hervoiceknifedathim.

“Explainit.”He flinched inshame; it

washis fault that shewashere—andthatshewassounready. But he forcedhimself to face hersquarely. “I couldn’t tellyou about it before.” Thedifficulty of what he hadtosayroughenedhistone.“There was no way you

could have believed it.And now it’s socomplicated—”Her eyes clung to himlikeclaws.“There are twocompletely differentexplanations,” he said asevenly as he could.“Outside and inside. Theoutside explanation mightbeeasiertoaccept.Itgoeslike this.” He took a deep

breath.“YouandIarestilllying in that triangle.” Agrimace strained hisbruises. “We’reunconscious. And whilewe’re unconscious, we’redreaming.We’re sharingadream.”Hermienwastightwithdisbelief. He hastened toadd,“It’snotasfarfetchedas you think. Deep downin their minds—down

where dreams come from—most people have a lotincommon.That’swhysomany of our dreams fallinto patterns that otherpeoplecanrecognize.“It’s happening to us.”

He kept pouring words ather, not because hewanted to convince her,but because he knew sheneeded time, needed anyanswer, however

improbable, to help hersurvive the first shock ofher situation. “We’resharing a dream. Andwe’re not the only ones,”hewenton,denyingherachance to put herincredulity into words.“Joanhadfragmentsofthesame dream.And that oldman—the one you saved.We’re all tied into thesame unconscious

process.”Her gaze wavered. Hesnapped, “Keep looking atme!Ihavetotellyouwhatkind of dream it is. It’sdangerous.Itcanhurtyou.Thethingsburiedinusarepowerful and violent, andthey are going to comeout. The darkness in us—the destructive side, thesidewekeeplockedupallour lives—is alive here.

Everybody has some self-hate inside. Here it’spersonified—externalized,the way things happen indreams. He calls himselfLord Foul the Despiser,and he wants to destroyus.“That’s what Joan kept

talking about. Lord Foul.And that’s what the oldman meant. ‘However hemay assail you. Be true.’

Be true to yourself, don’tserve the Despiser, don’tlethimdestroyyou.That’swhat we have to do.” Hepleadedwithhertoacceptthe consequences of whathewas saying,even if shechose not to believe theexplanation itself. “Wehave to stay sane, hangonto ourselves, defendwhatweareandwhatwebelieveandwhatwewant.

Until it’s over. Until weregainconsciousness.”He stopped, forcedhimselftogivehertime.Her eyesdropped tohischest,asifthatscarwereatest of what he said.Shadows of fear passedacross her countenance.Covenant felt suddenlysure that shewas familiarwithself-hate.Tightly she said, “This

has happened to youbefore.”Henodded.She did not raise herhead. “And you believeit?”He wanted to say,Partially. If you put thetwoexplanations together,they come close towhat Ibelieve.But inherpresentstraitshecouldnottroubleher with disclaimers.

Instead he got to his feet,drewherwithhimtolookoutfromtheWatch.She stiffened againsthiminshock.Theywereonaslablikea platform that appearedto hang suspended in theair. An expanse of sky ashuge as if they wereperchedonamountaintopcovered them. The weirdhalo of the sun gave a

disturbing hue to theroiling gray sea of cloudstwo hundred feet belowthem.Theclouds thrashedlike thunderheads,concealing the earth fromhorizontohorizon.A spasm of vertigo

wrenched Covenant; heremembered acutely thathewas four thousand feetabovethefoothills.Butheignored the imminent reel

andpanicaroundhimandconcentratedonLinden.She was stunned, rigid.This leap withouttransition from night’ inthe woods to morning onsuch an eminencestaggered her. He wantedto put his arms aroundher, hide her face againsthis chest to protect her;but he knewhe could notdo so, could not give her

thestrengthtobearthingswhich once had almostshattered him. She had toachieve her own survival.Grimly he turned her tolook in the oppositedirection.The mountains risingdramatically there seemedto strikeherablow.Theysprang upward out of theclouds a stone’s throwfrom the Watch. Their

peaks were rugged anddour.FromthecliffbehindtheWatch, they withdrewonbothsideslikeawedge,piling higher into thedistance. But off to theright a spur of the rangemarched back across thecloudsbefore fallingawayagain.Lindengapedatthecliff

as if it were about to fallon her. Covenant could

feel her ribs straining; shewas caught in thepredicament of the madandcouldnotfindenoughair in all the open sky toenable her to cry out.Fearing that she mightbreakawayfromhim,loseherself over the parapet,he tugged her back downto the safety of the floor.Shecrumpledtoherknees,gagging silently. Her eyes

had a terrible glazed andemptylook.“Linden!” Because hedidnotknowwhatelse todo, he barked, “Haven’tyouevengotthegutstogoonliving?”Shegasped,inhaled.Hereyes swept into focus onhim like swords leapingfrom their scabbards. Theoddsunlightgaveherfaceanaspectofdarkfury.

“I’m sorry,” he saidthickly.Herreactionmadehim ache as badly ashelplessness.“Youwereso—” Unwittingly he hadtrespassed on somethingwhich he had no right totouch.“Ineverwantedthistohappentoyou.”She rejected his regret

withaviolentshakeofherhead. “Now,” she panted,“you’re going to tell me

theotherexplanation.”He nodded. Slowly he

released her, withdrew tosit with his back againstthe parapet. He did notunderstand her strangecombination of strengthand weakness; but at themoment hisincomprehension wasunimportant. “The insideexplanation.”A deep weariness ran

through him.He fought itfor the words he needed.“We’re in a place calledthe Land. It’s a differentworld—like being on acompletely differentplanet. These mountainsare the Southron Range,the southern edge.All therest of the Land is westand north and east fromus. This place is Kevin’sWatch.Belowus,andabit

to thewest, there used tobe a village called MithilStonedown. Revelstone is—” But the thought ofRevelstone recalled theLords;heshiedawayfromit.“I’vebeenherebefore.“Mostofwhat I can tellyou about it won’t makemuchsenseuntilyouseeitfor yourself. But there’sone thing that’s importantright now. The Land has

an enemy. Lord Foul.” Hestudiedher, trying toreadherresponse.Buthereyesbrandished darkness athim, nothing else. “Forthousands of years,” hewent on, “Foul has beentryingtodestroytheLand.It’s—sort of a prison forhim. He wants to breakout.”Hegroanedinwardlyat the impossibility ofmakingwhathehadtosay

acceptable to someonewho had never had theexperience. “He translatedus out of our world.Broughtushere.Hewantsustoservehim.Hethinkshe canmanipulate us intohelping him destroy theLand.“We have power here.”

Heprayedhewasspeakingthe truth. “Sincewe comefrom outside, we aren’t

bound by the Law, thenatural order that holdseverythingtogether.That’swhy Foulwants us,wantsto use us. We can dothings nobody else herecan.”To spare himself the

burden of her incredulity,heleanedhisheadagainstthe parapet and gazed upat the mountains. “Thenecessity of freedom,” he

breathed. “As long as wearen’t bound by any Law,or anybody—or anyexplanation,” he said toeasehisconscience,“we’repowerful.” But I’m notfree. I’ve already chosen.“That’s what it comesdown to. Power. Thepowerthathealedme.“That old man—Somehowheknowswhat’sgoingonintheLand.And

he’snofriendofFoul’s.Hechoseyouforsomething—I don’t know what. Ormaybe he wanted toreassure himself. Find outifyou’rethekindofpersonFoulcanmanipulate.“As for Joan, she wasFoul’s way of getting atme.Shewasvulnerable tohim.Afterwhat happenedthe last time Iwashere, Iwasn’t.Heusedher toget

me to step into thattrianglebymyownchoice.So he could summon mehere.” What I don’tunderstand, he sighed, iswhy he had to do it thatway. It wasn’t like thatbefore. “Maybe it’s anaccident that you’re here,too.ButIdon’tthinkso.”Linden glanced down at

the stone as if to verifythat it was substantial,

then touched the bruisebehind her ear. Frowning,she shifted into a sittingposition. Now she did notlook at him. “I don’tunderstand,” she saidstiffly. “First you tell methis is a dream—then yousay it’s real. First you’redying back there in thewoods—thenyou’rehealedby some kind of—somekind of magic. First Lord

Foul is a figment—thenhe’s real.” In spite of hercontrol,hervoicetrembledslightly. “Which is it?Youcan’t have it both ways.”Her fist clenched. “Youcouldbedying.”Ah, I have to have it

both ways, Covenantmurmured. It’s likevertigo. The answer is inthe contradiction—in theeyeoftheparadox.Buthe

did not utter his thoughtaloud.Yet Linden’s question

relieved him. Already herrestless mind—that needwhich had rejected hisefforts to warn her, haddrivenhertofollowhimtohis doom—was beginningto grapple with hersituation. If she had thestrength to challenge him,thenhercrisiswaspast,at

least for the moment. Hefound himself smiling inspiteofhisfear.“It doesn’t matter,” hereplied.“Maybethisisreal—maybe it isn’t. You canbelieve whatever youwant.I’mjustofferingyoua frame of reference, soyou’ll have some place tostart.”Her hands keptmoving,touchingherself,thestone,

as if she needed tactilesensation to assure her ofherownexistence.Afteramoment,shesaid,“You’vebeen here before.” Heranger had turned to pain.“It’syourlife.Tellmehowtounderstand.”“Face it,” he saidwithout hesitation. “Goforward. Find out whathappens—what’s at stake.What matters to you.” He

knewfromexperiencethattherewasnootherdefenseagainstinsanity;theLand’sreality and its unrealitycould not be reconciled.“Giveyourselfachance tofindoutwhoyouare.”“IknowwhoIam.”Her

jaw was stubborn. Thelines of her nose seemedpreciseratherthanfragile;her mouth was severe byhabit. “I’m a doctor.” But

she was facing somethingshe did not know how tograsp. “I don’t even havemy bag.” She scrutinizedher hands as if shewonderedwhat theyweregood for. When she methisgaze,herquestionwasa demand as well as anappeal. “What do youbelieve?”“Ibelieve”—hemadeno

effort to muffle his

hardness—“that we’ve gotto find some way to stopFoul. That’s moreimportant than anything.He’s trying to destroy theLand. I’m not going to lethim get away with that.That’swhoIam.”She stared at his

affirmation. “Why? Whatdoes it have to do withyou? If this is a dream, itdoesn’t matter. And if it’s

—” She had difficultysaying the words. “If it’sreal,it’snotyourproblem.Youcanignoreit.”Covenant tasted oldrage. “Foul laughs atlepers.”At that, a glare ofcomprehension touchedher eyes. Her scowl saidplainly, Nobody has therighttolaughatillness.In a tight voice, she

asked, “What do we donow?”“Now?” He was weakwith fatigue; but herquestion galvanized him.Shehadreasons,strengths,possibilities. The old manhad not risked hergratuitously. “Now,” hesaid grimly, “if I can holdoff my vertigo, we getdown from here, and gofind out what kind of

troublewe’rein.”“Down?” She blinked at

him. “I don’t know howwegotup.”To answer her, he

nodded toward themountains. When sheturned,shenoticedthegapinthecurveoftheparapetfacing the cliff. Hewatchedasshecrawled tothe gap, saw what healreadyknewwasthere.

The parapet circled thetipofalongspireofstonewhich angled toward thecliff under the Watch.Therewere rude stairs cutinto the upper surface oftheshaft.He joined her. One

glance told him that hisdizziness would not beeasily overcome. Twohundred feet below him,the stairs vanished in the

clouds like a fall intodarkness.

FIVE:ThunderandLightning

“I’ll go first.” Covenantwas trembling deep in hisbones. He did not look atLinden. “This stair joinsthecliff—butifwefall,it’sfour thousand feet down.I’mnogoodatheights.IfIslip, I don’t want to takeyouwithme.”Deliberatelyhe set himself at the gap,feet first so that he could

backthroughit.There he paused, triedto resist thevertigowhichunmoored his mind bygiving himself a VSE. Butthe exercise aroused apang of leper’s anxiety.Undertheblue-tingedsun,his skin had a dim purplecast, as if his leprosy hadalready spread up hisarms, affecting thepigmentation, killing the

nerves.A sudden weakness

yearned in his muscles,making his shouldersquiver. The particularnumbness of his deadnerveshadnotaltered,forbetter or worse. But thediseased hue of his fleshlookedfatalandprophetic;itstruckhimlikealeapofintuition. One of hisquestions answered itself.

Why was Linden here?Why had the old manspoken to her rather thanto him? Because she wasnecessary. To save theLandwhenhefailed.The wild magic is nolonger potent. So much forpower. He had alreadyabandonedhimselftoLordFoul’s machinations. Agroan escaped him beforehecould lockhis teethon

it.“Covenant?” Concern

sharpened Linden’s voice.“Areyouallright?”He couldnot reply.The

simple fact that she wasworried about him, wascapableofworryingabouthim when she was undersomuch stress, multipliedthe dismay in his bones.His eyes clung to thestone, searching for

strength.“Covenant!” Her

demandwas likea slap inthe face. “I don’t knowhow to help you. Tell mewhattodo.”Whattodo.Noneofthis

was her fault. Shedeserved an answer. Hepulled himself down intothe center of his fatigueand dizziness. Had hereally doomed himself by

takingJoan’splace?Surelyhe did not have to fail?Surelythepowerforwhichhe had paid such a pricewas not so easilydiscounted? Withoutraising his head, hegritted, “At the bottom ofthe stairs, to my left,there’sa ledge in thecliff.Becareful.”Coercing himself intomotion,hebackedthrough

thegap.As his head passed

below the level of theWatch, he heard herwhisper fiercely, “Damnyou, why do you have toact so impervious? All Iwant to do is help.” Shesounded as if her sanitydependedonherabilitytobeofhelp.But he could not afford

to think about her; the

peril of the stairsconsumed his attention.He worked his way downthem as if they were aladder, clutching themwith his hands, kickingeach foot into them to besure it was secure beforehe trusted it. His gazenever left his hands. Theystrainedon the stepsuntilthe sinews stood out likedesperation.

The void around himseemed fathomless. Hecould hear the emptinessofthewind.Andtheswiftseething of the cloudsbelowhimhadahypnoticpower, sucking at hisconcentration. Longplungesyawnedallaroundhim.Butheknewthisfear.Holding his breath, helowered himself into theclouds—into the still

centerofhisvertigo.Abruptly the sun faded

andwentout.Graygloomthickenedtowardmidnightat every step of thedescent.Apaleflashranthrough

the dank sea, followedalmostatoncebythunder.Thewindmounted,rushedwetlyathimasifitsoughtto lift him off the spire.The stone became slick.

Hisnumbfingerscouldnottell thedifference,but thenerves in his wrists andelbows registered everyslippageofhisgrasp.Againaboltoflightning

thrashed past him,illuminating the mad boiland speed of the clouds.The sky shattered.Instinctively he flattenedhimself against the stone.Something inhimhowled,

but he could not tellwhetherithowledaloud.Crawling painfullythrough the brutal impactof the storm, he went ondownward.He marked his progressin the intensifying weightof the rain. The fine coldsting of spray against hissorefacebecameapeltingof heavy drops like ashowerofpebbles.Soonhe

was drenched andbattered. Lightning andthunder shouted acrosshim,articulatingsavagery.But the promise of theledgedrewhimon.Atlast,hisfeetfoundit.

Thrusting away from thespire, he pressed his backto the wall of the cliff,gapingupward.Aflailofblue-whitefire

renderedLindenoutofthe

darkness. She was justabove the level of hishead.When she reached the

ledge, he caught her sothatshewouldnotstumbleover the precipice. Shegripped him urgently.“Covenant!” The windrippedher shoutaway;hecouldbarelyhearher.“Areyouallright?”Heputhismouthtoher

ear.“Stayagainstthecliff!We’vegottofindshelter!”Shenoddedsharply.Clenchingherrighthand

in his left, he turned hisbackonthefallandbeganto shuttle west along theledge.Lightning burned

overhead, to give him aglimpse of his situation.Theledgewastwoorthreefeetwide and ran roughly

level across the cliff face.From its edge, themountaindisappearedintotheabyssoftheclouds.Thunder hammered at

him like the voice of hisvertigo, commanding himto lose his balance. Windand rainas shrill as chaoslashed his back. ButLinden’s hand anchoredhim. He squeezed himselflike yearning against the

cliff and crept slowlyforward.At every lightningblast,

he peered ahead throughthe rain, trying to see theendoftheledge.There: a vertical line

likeascarinthecliffface.He reached it, pulled

Lindenpastthecorner,upa slope of mud and screewhichgushedwaterasifitwere a stream bed. At

once, the wind became aconstrictedyowl.Thenextblue glare revealed thattheyhadenteredanarrowravine sluicing upwardthrough themountainside.Water frothed like rapidspast the boulders whichcramped the floor of theravine.Hestruggledaheaduntil

heandLindenwereabovea boulder that appeared

largeenoughtobesecure.There he halted and satdown in the current withhis back braced on thewall. She joined him.Water flooded over theirlegs; rain blinded theirfaces.Hedidnot care.Hehadtorest.After a few moments,sheshifted,putherfacetohisear.“Nowwhat?”Now what? He did not

know. Exhaustion numbedhis mind. But she wasright; they could notremain where they were.Hemusteredawan shout.“There’s a pathsomewhere!”“You don’t know theway?Yousaidyou’vebeenherebefore!”“Tenyearsago!”Andhehad been unconscious thesecond time; Saltheart

Foamfollower had carriedhim.Lightninglitherfacefor

an instant.Hervisagewassmeared with rain. “Whatarewegoingtodo?”The thought of

Foamfollower, the Giantwho had been his friend,gavehimwhatheneeded.“Try!” Bracing himself onhershoulder,helurchedtohis feet. She seemed to

support his weight easily.“MaybeI’llremember!”Shestoodupbesidehim,

leaned close to yell, “Idon’t like this storm! Itdoesn’tfeelright!”Doesn’t feel—? He

blinked at her. For amoment, he did notunderstand.Tohim,itwasjust a storm, naturalviolence like any other.But then he caught her

meaning.Toher,thestormfelt unnatural. It offendedsomeinstinctivesensitivityinher.Already she was aheadof him; her senses weregrowing attuned to theLand, while his remainedflat and dull, blind to thespirit of what heperceived. Ten years ago,he had been able to dowhat she had just done:

identify the rightness orwrongness, the health orcorruption, of physicalthings and processes, ofwind, rain, stone, wood,flesh. But now he couldfeel nothing except thestorm’s vehemence, as ifsuch force had nomeaning, no implications.Nosoul.Hemutteredtiredcursesathimself.Werehissenses

merelyslowinmakingtheadjustment?Orhadhelostthe ability to be inharmony with the Land?Had leprosy and timebereft himentirely of thatsensitivity? Hell andblood! he rasped weakly,bitterly. If Linden couldseewherehewasblind—Aching at the old grief

of his insufficiency, hetriedtomasterhimself.He

expected Linden to askhimwhatwaswrong.Andthat thought, too, wasbitter;hedidnotwanthisfrailties and fears, hisinnate wrongness, to bevisible toher. But shedidnotquestionhim.Shewasrigid with surprise orapprehension.Her face was turned uptheravine.He jerked around and

tried to penetrate thedownpour.At once, he saw it—afaint yellow light in thedistance.It flickeredtowardthemslowly,pickeditswaywithcaredownthespineoftheravine.Asitneared,alongblast of lightning revealedthat it was a torch in thehand of a man. Thenblackness and thunder

crashed over them, andCovenant could seenothing but the strangeflame. It burned bravely,impossibly, in spite of thedeluge and battery of thestorm.It approached until it

was close enough to lightthe man who held it. Hewasashort,stoopedfigurewearing a sodden robe.Rain gushed through his

sparse hair and tangledbeard,streamedinrunnelsdownthecreasesofhisoldface, giving him a look oflunacy. He squinted atCovenant andLindenas ifthey had been incarnatedoutofnightmarestoappallhim.Covenant held himself

still, returned the oldman’sstaremutely.Linden touched his arm

as if she wanted to warnbunofsomething.Suddenly, the old manjerked up his right hand,raised it with the palmforward, and spread hisfingers.Covenant copied thegesture. He did not knowwhether or not Lord Foulhad prepared thisencounter for him. But heneeded shelter, food,

information. And he wasprepared to acknowledgeanyone who could keep abrand alight in this rain.As he lifted his half-handinto the light, his ringgleamed dully on thesecondfinger.The sight shocked theold man. He winced,mumbled to himself,retreated a step as if infear. Then he pointed

tremulously at Covenant’sring. “White gold?” hecried.Hisvoiceshook.“Yes!”Covenantreplied.“Halfhand?”“Yes!”“How are you named?”

themanquavered.Covenant struggled to

drive each word throughthe storm. “Ur-LordThomas Covenant,Unbelieverandwhitegold

wielder!”“Illender?” gasped the

man as if the rain weresuffocatinghim.“ProverofLife?”“Yes!”The old man retreated

another step. Thetorchlight gave his visageadismayed look.Abruptlyhe turned, startedscrambling frailly upwardthrough the water and

muck.Over his shoulder, he

wailed,“Come!”“Who is that?” Linden

askedalmostinaudibly.Covenant dismissed the

question.“Idon’tknow.”Shescrutinizedhim.“Do

youtrusthim?”“Who has a choice?”

Before she could respond,he pushed away from thestone, used all his energy

to force himself intomotionaftertheoldman.His mouth was full ofrain and the sour taste ofweakness.Thestrainofthepast weeks affected himlikecaducity.Butthetorchhelpedhimfindhandholdsonthewallsandboulders.With Linden’s support, hewasabletoheaveforwardagainst the heavy stream.Slowly, they made

progress.Some distance up theravine, the old manenteredacutbranchingoffto the right.A rough stairinthesideofthecutledtoits bottom. Freed of thetorrents, Covenant foundthestrengthtoaskhimself,Do you trust him? But thetorch reassured him. Heknewofnobodywhocouldkeep a brand burning in

rain except themasters ofwood-lore. Or the Lords.He was ready to trustanybodywhoservedwoodor stone with such potentdiligence.Carefully he followedthe old man along thebottom of the cut until itnarrowed, became a highsheercleftinthemountainrock. Then, abruptly, thecleft changed directions

and opened into a smalldell.Towering peaksshelteredthevalefromthewind. But there was noescape from the rain. Itthrashed Covenant’s headand shoulders like a club.He could barely see thetorch as the old mancrossedthevalley.With Linden, Covenantwaded a swollen stream;

and moments later theyarrived at a squat stonedwellingwhichsatagainstthe mountainside. Theentry had no door;firelight scattered out atthem as they approached.Hurrying now, they burstbedraggled and drippingintothesingleroomofthehouse.The old man stood inthe center of the room,

still clutching his torchthoughabrightfireblazedin thehearthbeyondhim.He peered at Covenantwith trepidation, ready tocringe, like a childexpectingpunishment.Covenant stopped. Hisbruises ached to be nearthe fire; but he remainedstill to look around theroom.At once, a pang of

anxiety smote him.Already he could see thatsomethinghad changed inthe Land. Somethingfundamental.The dwelling wasfurnished with anunexpected mixture ofwood and stone.Stoneware bowls and urnssat on wooden shelvesaffixed to the sidewalls;wooden stools stood

around a wooden table inonestonecorner.Andiron—there were iron utensilson the shelves, iron nailsinthestools.Formerlythepeopleofstoneandwood,Stonedownor andWoodhelvennin, had eachkept to his own lore—notbecause theywishedtobeexclusive, but ratherbecause their special skillsand knowledge required

alltheirdevotion.For amoment, he facedthe man, bore the old,half-wild gaze. Linden,too, studied the old man,measuring himuncertainly. But Covenantknew she was askingherself questions unlikethe ones which mobbedinto his mind. Had theStonedownors andWoodhelvennin grown

together, blended theirlore?Orhad—?The world is not what itwas.A raw sickness twistedhis heart. Withoutwarning, he becameconscious of smoke in theroom.Smoke!He thrust past the oldman, hastened to thehearth.

Thewood lay on a pileof ash, burning warmly.Coals cracked and fell offthe logs, red wormsgnawingthefleshoftrees.At intervals, wisps ofsmoke curled up into theroom. The rain in thechimney made a lowhissingnoise.Hellfire!The people he had

known here would never

havevoluntarilyconsumedwood for any purpose.Theyhadalwaysstriventouse the life of wood, theEarthpower in it, withoutdestroying the thing theyused. Wood, soil, stone,water—the people of theLand had cherished everymanifestationoflife.“Ur-Lord,” the old mangroaned.Covenant whirled. Grief

burned like rage in him.Hewanted to howl at theDespiser, What have youdone?ButbothLindenandthe old man were staringat him. Linden’s eyesshowed concern, as if shefearedhehadslippedoverthe edge into confusion.And the old man was inthe grip of a privateanguish.FiercelyCovenantcontainedtheyellingofhis

passion. But the strain ofsuppression bristled in histone. “What keeps thattorchburning?”“I am ashamed!” Theman’svoicebrokeas ifhewere on the verge ofweeping. He did not hearCovenant’s question; hispersonal distress devouredhim. “This temple,” hepanted,“builtby themostancient fathers of my

father’s father—inpreparation.Wehavedonenothing! Other roomsfallen to ruin, sanctuaries—” He waved his brandfervidly. “We did nothing.In a score of generations,nothing. It is a hovel—unworthy of you. We didnot believe the promisegiven into our trust—generationaftergenerationofUnfetteredtoocravento

put faith in the proudestprophecies. It would berightforyoutostrikeme.”“Strike you?” Covenant

was taken aback. “No.”There were too manythings here he did notunderstand. “What’s thematter? Why are youafraidofme?”“Covenant,” Linden

breathed suddenly. “Hishand.Look.”

Water dripped from theold man; water ran fromthem all. But the dropsfallingfromthebuttofthetorchwerered.“Ur-Lord!” The manplungedtohisknees.“Iamunworthy.” He quiveredwith dismay. “I havetrafficked in theknowledge of the wicked,gaining power against theSunbane from those who

scorn the promises I havesworn to preserve. Ah,spare me! I am shamed.”He dropped his brand,opened his left hand toCovenant.The torch went out theinstanthereleasedit.Asitstruckthefloor,itfellintoash.Acrosshis palm lay twolong cuts. Blood ran fromthem as if it could not

stop.Covenant flinched.

Thunder muttered angrilyto itself in the distance.Nothing was left of thetorch except ash. It hadbeen held together, keptwhole and burning, onlyby thepower theoldmanhadputintoit.Thepowerofhisblood?Covenant’s brain reeled.

AsuddenmemoryofJoan

stung him—Joan clawingthe back of his hand,lickinghis fingers.Vertigorefthimofbalance.Hesatdown heavily, slumpedagainst the nearest wall.The rain echoed in hisears.Blood?Blood?Linden was examiningthe old man’s hand. Sheturned it to the firelight,spreadthefingers;hergripon his wrist slowed the

flowofblood. “It’s clean.”Her voice was flat,impersonal. “Needs abandage to stop thebleeding. But there’s noinfection.”No infection, Covenantbreathed. His thoughtslimpedlikecripples.“Howcanyoutell?”She was concentratingonthewound.“What?”He labored to say what

he meant. “How can youtellthere’snoinfection?”“I don’t know.” His

questionseemedtotriggersurprise in her. “I can seeit. I can see”—herastonishment mounted—“thepain.But it’sclean.How—?Can’tyou?”He shook his head. She

confirmed his earlierimpression; her senseswere already becoming

attunedtotheLand.His were not. He wasblind to everything notwritten on the surface.Why? He closed his eyes.Old rue throbbed in him.He had forgotten thatnumbness could hurt somuch.After a moment, shemoved; he could hear hersearching around theroom. When she returned

to the oldman’s side, shewas tearing a piece ofclothtoformbandages.You will not fail—Covenant felt that he hadalready been given up forlost. The thought was salttohissoreheart.Smoke? Blood? There’sonlyonewaytohurtaman.Give him back somethingbroken.Damnation.But the old man

demanded his attention.The man had bowed hiswetgrayheadtothestone.HishandsgropedtotouchCovenant’s boots. “Ur-Lord,” he moaned, “Ur-Lord. At last you havecome.TheLandissaved.”That obeisance pulledCovenant out of his innergyre. He could not affordto be overwhelmed byignorance or loss. And he

could not bear to betreatedasifheweresomekind of savior; he couldnot live with such animage of himself. Heclimbed erect, then tookholdoftheoldman’sarmsanddrewhimtohisfeet.The man’s eyes rolledfearfully, gleaming in thefirelight. To reassure him,Covenant spoke evenly,quietly.

“Tellmeyourname.”“IamNassicsonofJous

son of Prassan,” the oldman replied ina fumblingvoice.“Descendedindirectlineage son by son fromtheUnfetteredOne.”Covenant winced. The

Unfettered Ones he hadknownwere hermits freedfrom all normalresponsibilities so thatthey could pursue their

private visions. AnUnfettered One had oncesaved his life—and died.Another had read hisdreams—andtoldhimthathe dreamed the truth. Hetook a stringent grip onhimself. “What was hiscalling?”“Ur-Lord, he saw yourreturn. Therefore he cameto this place—to the valebelow Kevin’s Watch,

whichwas given its nameinanagesolongpastthatnone remember itsmeaning.”Briefly Nassic’s tonestabilized, as if he werereciting something he hadmemorized long ago. “Hebuiltthetempleasaplaceofwelcomeforyou,andaplaceofhealing,foritwasnot forgotten among thepeople of those years that

your own world is one ofgreat hazard and strife,inflicting harm even uponitsheroes.Inhisvision,hebeheldtheseveredoomofthe Sunbane, though tohim it was nameless asnightmare,andheforesawthat the Unbeliever, ur-Lord Illender, Prover ofLife, would return tocombatit.Fromsontosonhe handed down his

vision,faithun—”Then he faltered. “Ah,shame,” he muttered.“Temple—faith—healing—Land. All ruins.” Butindignation stiffened him.“Fools will cry for mercy.They deserve onlyretribution. For lo! TheUnbeliever has come. LettheClaveandallitsworkswail to be spared. Let thevery sun tremble in its

course! It will avail themnothing! Woe unto you,wicked and abominable!The—”“Nassic.” Covenantforcedtheoldmantostop.Lindenwaswatchingthemkeenly.Questionscrowdedher face; but Covenantignoredthem.“Nassic,”heasked of the man’s whitestare, “what is thisSunbane?”

“Sunbane?” Nassic losthisfearinamazement.“Doyou ask—? How can younot—?” His hands tuggedat his beard. “Why elsehaveyoucome?”Covenant tightened his

grip. “Just tellmewhat itis.”“Itis—why,itis—yes,it

—” Nassic stumbled to ahalt, then cried in asudden appeal, “Ur-Lord,

whatisitnot?Itissunandrain and blood and desertandfearandthescreamingof trees.” He squirmedwith renewed abasement.“Itwas—itwas the fire ofmytorch.Ur-Lord!”Miseryclenched his face like afist.Hetriedtodroptohiskneesagain.“Nassic.” Covenant held

himerect,huntedforsomeway to reassure him.

“We’re not going to harmyou. Can’t you see that?”Then another thoughtoccurred to him.Remembering Linden’sinjury,hisownbruises,hesaid, “Your hand’s stillbleeding.We’vebothbeenhurt. And I—” He almostsaid, I can’t see what shesees. But the words stuckin his throat. “I’ve beenaway for a long time. Do

youhaveanyhurtloam?”Hurtloam? Linden’sexpressionasked.“Hurtloam?” queriedNassic. “What ishurtloam?”What is—? Distresslurched across Covenant’sfeatures. What—? Shoutsflaredinhimlikescreams,Hurtloam! Earthpower!Life! “Hurtloam,” herasped savagely.“Themud

thatheals.”HisgraspshookNassic’sfrailbones.“Forgiveme,Ur-Lord.Be

notangry.I—”“It was here! In this

valley!” Lena had healedhimwithit.Nassic found a moment

ofdignity.“Iknownothingof hurtloam. I am an oldman, and have neverheardthenamespoken.”“Damnation!” Covenant

spat.“Nextyou’regoingtotellmeyou’veneverheardofEarthpower!”The old man sagged.

“Earthpower?” hebreathed.“Earthpower?”Covenant’s hands

ground his giddy dismayintoNassic’sthinarms.ButLinden was at his side,trying to loosen his grip.“Covenant!He’stellingthetruth!”

Covenantjerkedhisgazelikeawhiptoherface.Her lipswere tightwith

strain, but she did not letherself flinch. “He doesn’tknow what you’re talkingabout.”She silenced him. He

believed her; she couldhear the truth in Nassic’svoice,justasshecouldseethelackof infectioninhiscuts. No hurtloam? He

bled inwardly. Forgotten?Lost?Imagesofdesecrationpouredthroughhim.Havemercy. The Land withouthurtloam. WithoutEarthpower?TheweightofNassic’srevelationwastoomuch for him.He sank tothefloorlikeaninvalid.Linden stood over him.She was groping fordecision, insight; but hecouldnothelpher.Aftera

moment, she said,“Nassic.” Her tone wassevere. “Do you have anyfood?”“Food?” he replied as ifshe had reminded him ofhis inadequacy. “Yes. No.Itisunworthy.”“Weneedfood.”Her statement brookedno argument. Nassicbowed,wentatoncetotheopposite wall, where he

began lifting down crudebowls and pots from theshelves.Linden came to

Covenant,kneltinfrontofhim. “What is it?” sheaskedtightly.Hecouldnotkeepthedespairoutofhisface.“What’swrong?”He did not want to

answer. He had spent toomanyyearsintheisolationofhisleprosy;herdesireto

understand him onlyaggravated his pain. Hecould not bear to be soexposed. Yet he could notrefuse the demand of herhardmouth,hersofteyes.Her life was at issue asmuch as his. He made aneffort of will. “Later.” Hisvoice ached through histeeth.“Ineedtimetothinkaboutit.”Her jaws locked;

darkness wounded hereyes. He looked away, sothathewouldnotbeledtospeak before he hadregainedhisself-mastery.Shortly Nassic brought

bowlsofdriedmeat, fruit,and unleavened bread,which he offeredtentatively, as if he knewthey deserved to berejected. Linden acceptedherswithadifficult smile;

but Nassic did not moveuntil Covenant hadmustered the strength tonodhisapproval.Thentheold man took pots andcollected rainwater forthemtodrink.Covenant stared blindly

athisfoodwithouttastingit. He seemed to have noreason to bother feedinghimself. Yet he knew thatwas not true; in fact, he

wasfounderinginreasons.But the impossibility ofdoing justice to them allmade his resolution falter.HadhereallysoldhissoultotheDespiser—?But he was a leper; hehad spent long yearslearning the answer tohishelplessness. Leprosy wasincurable.Thereforelepersdisciplined themselves topay meticulous attention

to their immediate needs.They ignored the abstractimmensity of theirburdens, concentratedinstead on the present,moment by moment. Heclung to that pragmaticwisdom. He had no otheranswer.Numbly he put a pieceof fruit in his mouth,begantochew.After that, habit and

hunger came to his aid.Perhaps his answer wasnot a good one; but itdefinedhim,andhe stoodbyit.Stoodor fell,hedidnot

knowwhich.Nassic waited humbly,

solicitously, whileCovenant and Linden ate;but as soon as theyfinished, he said, “Ur-Lord.” He sounded eager.

“I am your servant. It isthe purpose in my life toserve you, as it was thepurposeof Jousmy fatherand Prassan his fatherthroughoutthelonglineofthe Unfettered.” Heseemed unmindful of thequaver in hiswords. “Youarenotcometoosoon.TheSunbane multiplies in theLand.Whatwillyoudo?”Covenantsighed.Hefelt

unready todealwith suchquestions.Buttheritualofeating had steadied him.And both Nassic andLindendeservedsomekindof reply. Slowly he said,“We’ll have to go toRevelstone—” He spokethe name hesitantly.WouldNassicrecognizeit?If there were no moreLords—PerhapsRevelstoneno longer existed. Or

perhapsall thenameshadchanged.Enoughtimehadpassed for anything tohappen.But Nassic crowedimmediately, “Yes!VengeanceupontheClave!Itisgood!”The Clave? Covenantwondered. But he did notask. Instead, he testedanother familiar name.“But firstwe’ll have to go

toMithilStonedown—”“No!” the maninterrupted. Hisvehemence turnedat onceinto protest andtrepidation. “You mustnot. They are wicked—wicked! Worshippers oftheSunbane.Theysaythatthey abhor the Clave, butthey do not. Their fieldsaresownwithblood!”Blood again; Sunbane;

the Clave. Too manythingshedidnotknow.Heconcentrated on what hewas trying to ascertain.Apparently the names heremembered were knownto Nassic in spite of theirage. That ended his onedim hope concerning thefate of the Earthpower. Anew surge of futility beatat him. How could hepossibly fight Lord Foul if

therewerenoEarthpower?No, worse—if there wereno Earthpower, what waslefttofightfor?But Nassic’s distraught

stare and Linden’sclenched, arduous silencedemanded responses.Grimacing he thrust downhis sense of futility. Hewas intimately acquaintedwith hopelessness,impossibility, gall; he

knew how to limit theirpoweroverhim.He took a deep breath

andsaid,“There’snootherway. We can’t get out ofhere without goingthrough MithilStonedown.”“Ah, true,” the oldman

groaned.“Thatistrue.”Heseemed almost desperate.“Yet you must not—Theyare wicked! They harken

to the words of the Clave—words of abomination.They mock all oldpromises, saying that theUnbelieverisamadnessinthe minds of theUnfettered. You must notgothere.”“Then how—?”

Covenant frowned grimly.What’shappenedtothem?I used to have friendsthere.

AbruptlyNassic reacheda decision. “I will go. Tomy son. His name isSunder.He iswicked, liketherest.Butheismyson.Hecomes tomewhen themood is upon him, and Ispeak to him, telling himwhat is proper to hiscalling. He is notaltogether corrupted. Hewill aid us to pass by theStonedown.Yes.”Atonce,

he threw himself towardtheentryway.“Wait!” Covenantjumped tohis feet.Lindenjoinedhim.“Imustgo!”criedNassicurgently.“Wait until the rainstops.” Covenant pleadedagainst the frenzy inNassic’s eyes. The manlooked too decrepit toendureanymoreexposure.

“We’renotinthatmuchofahurry.”“It will not halt until

nightfall. I must makehaste!”“Then at least take a

torch!”Nassic flinched as if he

had been scourged. “Ah,youshameme!Iknowthepath. I must redeem mydoubt.” Before Covenantor Linden could stop him,

heranoutintotherain.Lindenstartedafternun;

but Covenant stayed her.Lightningblazedoverhead.In the glare, they sawNassic stumblingfreneticallytowardtheendof the dell. Then thunderand blackness hit, and hedisappeared as if he hadbeensnuffedout.“Lethimgo,” sighed Covenant. “Ifwe chase him, we’ll

probably fall off a cliffsomewhere.” He held heruntil shenodded.Thenhereturned wearily to thefire.Shefollowedhim.When

he placed his back to thehearth, she confrontedhim. The dampness of herhair darkened her face,intensifying the linesbetween her brows, oneither side of her mouth.

He expected anger,protest, some outburstagainst the insanityofhersituation. But when shespoke, her voice was flat,controlled.“This isn’t what youexpected.”“No.”He cursedhimselfbecause he could not riseabove his dismay. “No.Something terrible hashappened,”

She did not waver.“How can that be? Yousaidthelasttimeyouwerehere was ten years ago.What can happen in tenyears?”Herqueryremindedhimthat he had not yet toldher about Lord Foul’sprophecy. But now wasnot the time: she wassuffering from too manyother incomprehensions.

“Ten years in our world.”For her sake, he did notsay,therealworld.“Timeisdifferenthere. It’s faster—thewaydreamsarealmostinstantaneous sometimes.I’ve—” He had difficultymeetingherstare;evenhisknowledgefeltlikeshame.“I’ve actually been herethree times before. Eachtime, I was unconsciousfor a few hours, and

months went by here. Soten years for me—Oh,bloodyhell!”TheDespiserhad said, For a score ofcenturies. For nearly asmanycenturiesmore.“Iftheratiostaysthesame,we’retalkingaboutthreeorfourthousandyears.”Sheacceptedthisasifit

were just one more detailthat defied rationality.“Well, what could have

happened? What’s soimportant abouthurtloam?”He wanted to hide his

head, conceal his pain; hefelt too much exposed tothenewpenetrationofhersenses. “Hurtloam was aspecial mud that couldheal—almost anything.”Twice, while in the Land,it had cured his leprosy.But he shied away from

the whole subject ofhealing. If he told herwhat hurtloam had donefor him in the past, hewouldalsohavetoexplainwhy it had not done himany lasting good. Hewouldhavetotellherthatthe Land was physicallyself-contained—that ithadno tangible connection totheirworld.Thehealingofhis chest meant nothing.

When they regainedconsciousness, she wouldfind that their bodilycontinuity in their worldwas complete. Everythingwouldbethesame.If they did not awakensoon, she would not havetimetotreathiswound.Becauseshewasalreadyunder so much stress, hesparedherthatknowledge.Yet he could not contain

his bitterness. “But that’snot the point. Look.” Hepointed at the hearth.“Smoke.Ashes.ThepeopleI knew never built firesthatdestroyedwood.Theydidn’t have to. For them,everything around them—wood,water,stone,flesh—every part of the physicalworld—was full of whatthey called Earthpower.The power of life. They

could raise fire—or makeboats flow upstream—orsend messages—by usingthe Earthpower in woodinsteadofthewooditself.“That was what made

themwho theywere. TheEarthpower was theessence of the Land.”Memoriesthrongedinhim,visionsoftheLords,ofthemasters of stone- andwood-lore.“Itwassovital

tothem,sosustaining,thatthey gave their lives to it.Did everything they couldto serve it, rather thanexploit it. It was strength,sentience, passion. Life. Afire like this would havehorrifiedthem.”But words were

inadequate. He could notconvey his longing for aworld where aspen andgranite, water and soil,

nature itself, wereunderstood, revered fortheir potency andloveliness.Aworldwith asoul, deserving to betreasured.Lindengazedathimasifhewerebabbling.Withasilentsnarl,hegaveup trying to explain.“Apparently,” he said,“they’ve lost it. It’sforgotten. Or dead. Nowtheyhave this Sunbane. If

I understand what I’vebeen hearing—which Idoubt—the Sunbane waswhat kept Nassic’s torchburning in the rain. Andhe had to cut his hand todo it. And the wood wasstillconsumed.“He says theSunbane iscausing this rain.”Covenant shudderedinvoluntarily; firelightreflecting off the

downpour beyond theentryway made the stormlook vicious andintolerable.Her eyes searched him.The bones of her faceseemed to press againstthe skin, as if her skullitself protested against somany alien circumstances.“I don’t know anythingabout it. None of thismakessense.”Shefaltered.

He could see fearscrowding the edges of hervision. “It’s all impossible.I can’t—” She shot aharried glance around theroom, thrust her handsintoherhairasthoughshesought to pull imminenthysteria off her features.“I’mgoingcrazy.”“Iknow.”Herecognized

her desperation. His ownwildnesswhenhewasfirst

taken to the Landhad ledhim to commit the worstcrimes of his life. Hewantedtoreachouttoher,protect her; but thenumbness of his handspreventedhim.Instead,hesaid intensely, “Don’t giveup. Ask questions. Keeptrying. I’ll tell youeverythingIcan.”For amoment, her gaze

achedtowardhimlikethe

arms of an abandonedchild. But then her handsbunched into fists. Agrimace like a clench ofintransigence knotted hermien. “Questions,” shebreathed through herteeth.Withasevereeffort,she took hold of herself.“Yes.”Hertoneaccusedhimas

ifheweretoblameforherdistress. But he accepted

the responsibility. Hecould have prevented herfrom following him intothe woods. If he had hadthecourage.“All right,” she gritted.

“You’ve been here before.What makes you soimportant? What did youdo? Why does Foul wantyou?What’sanur-Lord?”Covenant sighed

inwardly—an exhalation

of relief at herdetermination to survive.Thatwaswhat hewantedfrom her. A suddenweariness dimmed hissight; but he took noaccountofit.“IwasBerekreborn.”The memory was notpleasant; it contained toomuch guilt, too muchsorrow and harm. But heaccepted it. “Berek was

one of the ancient heroes—thousands of yearsbefore I came along.According to the legends,he discovered theEarthpower,andmadetheStaffofLawtowieldit.AlltheloreoftheEarthpowercame down from him. Hewas theLord-Fatherer, thefounder of the Council ofLords. They led thedefenseoftheLandagainst

Foul.”TheCouncil,hegroaned

to himself, rememberingMhoram, Prothall, Elena.Hell and blood! His voiceshook as he continued.“When I showed up, theywelcomedme as a sort ofavatar of Berek. He wasknowntohavelostthelasttwo fingers of his righthand in a war.” Linden’sgaze sharpened

momentarily; but she didnot interrupt. “So I wasmade an ur-Lord of theCouncil. Most of thoseother titles came later.AfterIdefeatedFoul.“ButUnbelieverwasone

I took for myself. For alongtimehere,IwassureIwasdreaming,butIdidn’tknowwhattodoaboutit.”Sourlyhemuttered,“Iwasafraid to get involved. It

had something to dowithbeing a leper.” He hopedshewouldacceptthisnon-explanation; he did notwant to have to tell herabout his crimes. “But Iwaswrong.Aslongasyouhave some idea of what’shappeningtoyou,‘real’or‘unreal’ doesn’t matter.You have to stand up forwhat you care about; ifyoudon’t,youlosecontrol

of who you are.” Hepaused, met her scrutinyso that she could see theclarityofhisconviction.“Iendedupcaringabout theLandalot.”“Because of theEarthpower?”“Yes.” Pangs of lossstung his heart. Fatigueand strain had shorn himof his defenses. “The landwas incredibly beautiful.

And the way the peopleloved it, served it—thatwas beautiful, too.Lepers,” he concludedmordantly, “aresusceptible to beauty.” Inher own way, Lindenseemedbeautifultohim.She listened to him likea physician trying todiagnose a rare disease.Whenhestopped,shesaid,“You called yourself,

‘Unbelieverandwhitegoldwielder.’What doeswhitegoldhavetodowithit?”He scowled

involuntarily.Tocoverhispain, he lowered himselftothefloor,satagainstthewall of the hearth. Thatquestion touched himdeeply, and he was tootiredtogiveitthecourageit deserved. But her needfor knowledge was

peremptory. “My weddingring,” he murmured.“WhenJoandivorcedme,Iwas never able to stopwearingit.Iwasaleper—Ifelt that I’d losteverything. I thought myonly link with the humanrace was the fact that Iusedtobemarried.“Buthere it’s somekind

of talisman. A tool forwhat they callwildmagic

—‘the wild magic thatdestroys peace.’ I can’texplain it.”Tohimself, hecursed the paucity of hisvalor.Linden sat down near

him, kept watching hisface. “You think I can’thandlethetruth.”He winced at her

percipience.“Idon’tknow.ButIknowhowharditis.Itsureashellisn’teasyfor

me.”Outside, the rain beat

with steady ire into thevalley; thunder andlightning pummeled eachother among themountains. But inside thehut the air was warm,tinged with smoke like afaintsoporific.Andhehadgone for many dayswithoutrest.Heclosedhiseyes, partly to

acknowledge hisexhaustion, partly to gaina respite from Linden’sprobing.Butshewasnotfinished.“Nassic—” Her voice wasas direct as if she hadreached out and touchedhim.“He’scrazy.”With an effort of will,Covenantforcedhimselftoask, “Whatmakesyou saythat?”

She was silent until heopenedhiseyes, lookedather.Then,defensively,shesaid, “I can feel it—theimbalance in him. Can’tyou? It’s in his face, hisvoice, everything. I saw itright away. When he wascomingdowntheravine.”Grimly he put off hisfatigue. “What are youtryingto tellme?Thatwecan’t trust him? Can’t

believehim?”“Maybe.”Nowshecould

not meet his gaze. Shestudied the clasp of herhands on her knees. “I’mnotsure.AllIknowis,he’sdemented. He’s beenlonely too long. And hebelieveswhathesays.”“He’snot theonlyone,”

Covenant muttered.Deliberately he stretchedout tomake himselfmore

comfortable. He was tootired to worry aboutNassic’s sanity. But heowed Linden one otheranswer.Beforeheletgoofhimself, he replied, “No, Ican’t.”As weariness washed

over him, he was dimlyaware that she stood upand began to pace besidehisrecumbentform.He was awakened by

silence. The rain hadstopped.Foramoment,heremained still, enjoyingthe end of the storm. Therest had done him good;he felt stronger, morecapable.When he raised his

head,hesawLindenintheentryway, facing the valeand the clear cool night.Her shoulders were tense;strainmarkedthewayshe

leaned against the stone.As he got to his feet, sheturned toward him. Shemusthave replenished thefire while he slept. Theroomwasbright;hecouldsee her face clearly. Thecorners of her eyes werelined as if she had beensquinting for a long timeat something whichdiscomfitedher.“Itstoppedatnightfall.”

She indicated the absenceof rain with a jerk of herhead.“Hewasrightaboutthat.”The trouble in herworried him. He tried tosound casual as he asked,“What have you beenthinking?”She shrugged. “Nothingnew. ‘Face it. Go forward.Find outwhat happens.’ ”Her gazewasbent inward

on memories. “I’ve beenliving that way for years.It’s the only way to findouthowmuchwhatyou’retrying to get away fromcosts.”He searched her for

some glimpse ofwhat shemeant. “You know,” hesaid slowly, “you haven’ttold me much aboutyourself.”She stiffened, drew

severity across hercountenance like a shield.Her tone denied hisquestion.“Nassicisn’tbackyet.”For a moment, he

consideredherrefusal.Didshe have that much pasthurt to hide? Were herdefenses aimed at him, orat herself? But then theimport of her wordspenetrated him. “He

isn’t?” Even an old manshould have been able tomakethetriptwiceinthisamountoftime.“Ihaven’tseenhim.”“Damnation!”

Covenant’s throat wassuddenly dry. “What thehellhappenedtohim?”“How should I know?”

Her ire betrayed thefraying of her nerves.“Remember me? I’m the

onewho hasn’t been herebefore.”He wanted to snap at

her; but he held himselfback grimly. “I didn’tmean it that way. Maybehe felloff thecliff.MaybeMithil Stonedown is evenmore dangerous than hethought.Maybehedoesn’tevenhaveason.”He could see her

swallowing her vexation,

wishingherselfimmunetopressure. “What are wegoingtodo?”“What choice have wegot?We have to go downthere ourselves.” Sternlyhe compelled himself toface her doubt of Nassic.“It’shardformetobelievewe can’t trust thosepeople. They were myfriends when I didn’tdeserve to have any

friends.”She considered him.

“That was three thousandyearsago.”Yes, he muttered

bleakly.Andhehadgiventhemlittleinreturnexceptharm. If they rememberedhim at all, they would bejustified in rememberingonlytheharm.With a sudden nausea,

he realized that he was

going to have to tellLinden what he had doneto Mithil Stonedown, toLena Atiaran-daughter.The doctor was the firstwomanhehadmet in tenyears who was not afraidof him.And she had triedtosavehislife.Whatotherprotection could he giveheragainsthimself?He lacked the courage.The words were in his

mind, but he could notutter them. To escape hereyes, he moved abruptlypast her out of Nassic’sstonedwelling.Thenightwasavaultofcrystal.Allthecloudsweregone.Theairwascoldandsharp; and stars glitteredlikeflecksofjoyacrosstheimmaculate deeps. Theygavesomevisibility.Belowthe dark crouch of the

peaks, he could see thestream flowing turgidlydown the length of thedell. He followed it; heremembered this part ofthe way well enough. Butthenheslowedhispaceashe realized that Lindenwasnotbehindhim.“Covenant!”Hercryscaledthenight.

Echoes repeated againstthemountainsides.

Hewentbacktoheratawildrun.She knelt on a pile of

rubble like a cairn besidethe hut—the brokenremainsofNassic’stemple,fallen into desuetude. Shewasexaminingadarkformwhich lay strangely atopthedebris.Covenant sprang

forward, peered at thebody.

Bloodyhell,hemoaned.Nassic.The old man lay

embracingtheruins.Fromthe center of his backprotruded the handle of aknife.“Don’t touch that,”

Linden panted. “It’s stillhot.” Her mouth was fullofcrushedhorror.Still—?Covenantkicked

asidehisdismay.“Takehis

legs. We’ll carry him intothehouse.”She did not move. She

lookedsmallandabject inthenight.To make her move, he

lashedather,“Itoldyouitwas dangerous. Did youthink Iwas kidding? Takehislegs!”Her voice was a still

cold articulation ofdarkness. “He’s dead.

There’s nothing we cando.”The sound of her

desolation choked hisprotests. For one keeningmoment,hefearedthathehad lost her—that hermind had gone over theedge.Butthensheshifted.Her hair fell forward, hidherface,asshebenttoslipher arms under Nassic’slegs.

Covenant lifted him bythe shoulders. Togetherthey bore him into hishouse.Hewasalreadystiff.They set him down

gently in thecenterof thefloor. Covenant inspectedhim. His skin was cold.Therewasnoblood inhisrobe around the knife; itmust have been washedawaybytherain.Hemust

have laindead in the rainforalongtime.Linden did not watch.

Her eyes clinched theblack ironknife. “It didn’tkill him right away,” shesaidhoarsely.“Itdidn’thithim right. He bled todeath.” The bones of herface seemed to throbwithvehemence.“Thisisevil.”Thewaysheutteredthat

word evil sent cold fear

scrabbling downCovenant’sspine.Heknewwhat she meant; he hadformerly been able toperceive such thingshimself. She was lookingat the cruelty of the handwhichhadheldthatknife,seeing the eager malicewhich had inspired theblow.Andiftheironwerestill hot—He swallowedharshly. Nassic’s killer

must have been someoneofgreatandbrutalpower.He scrambled for

explanations. “Whoeverdiditknewwewerehere.Orelsewhyleavehimoutthere? He wanted us tofindthebody—afterhegotaway.”Heclosedhiseyes,forced some clarity ontohis spinning thoughts.“Nassicwaskilledbecauseof us. To keep him from

talking to the Stonedown.Or from talking to us. Byhell,thisstinksofFoul.”Linden was notlistening;herownreactiondominated her. “Nobodydoes this.” She soundedlorn,fear-ravaged.He heard thestrangeness of her protest;but he could not stophimself. His old anger forthe victims of Despite

drove him. “It takes aspecial kind of killer,” hegrowled, “to leave a hotknife behind. Foul hasplentyofthatkindofhelp.He’s perfectly capable ofhavingNassickilledjusttokeep us from getting toomuch information. Or tomanipulateussomehow.”“Nobody kills like this.Forpleasure.”Dullanguishblunted her tone, blinded

her face. “People don’t dothat.”“Of course they don’t.”

Her dismay reached him;but the frailty of Nassic’sdead limbs affronted himto the marrow of hisbones, made his replysavage. “He probablydecided to take a nap intherain,andthisknifejustfell on him out ofnowhere.”

She was deaf to hissarcasm—too intimatelyshocked to recognize himatall.“Peoplekillbecausethey’re hungry. Afraid.”Shestruggledforcertitudeagainst the indefeasibleiron. “Driven. Becausesomeone, something,forces them.” Her tonesharpened as if she weregathering screams.“Nobodylikesit.”

“No.” The sight of herdistresspulledCovenanttoher. He tried to confronthermounting repudiation.“Everybody likes it.Everybody likes power.Butmostpeoplecontrolit.Because they hate it, too.This is no different thananyothermurder. It’s justmoreobvious.”A flinch of revulsion

twisted her face; his

assertion seemed to hurther. For an instant, hefeared that her mind wasgoing to fail.But thenhereyes climbed to his face.The effort of self-masterydarkened them like blood.“I want—” Her voicequavered; she crushed itflat. “I want to meet thesonofabitch who did this.SoIcanseeformyself.”Covenant nodded,

gritted his own black ire.“Ithinkyou’regoingtogetthe chance.” He, too,wanted to meet Nassic’sslayer. “We can’t try tosecond-guess Foul. Heknows more than we do.And we can’t stay here.Butwe’velostourguide—our only chance to learnwhat’s happening. Wehave to go to MithilStonedown.” Grimly he

concluded, “Since thekillerdidn’tattackushere,he’s probably waiting forusinthevillage.”For a longmoment, she

remained motionless,mustering her resources.Then she said tightly,“Let’sgo.”He did not hesitate.

Nassic had not even beengiven the dignity of aclean death. With Linden

athisside,hemarchedoutintothenight.But in spite of the

violenceinhim,hedidnotallowhimself to rush.Thestars did not shed anabundance of light; andthe rain had left the floorofthedellslickwithmud.The path to MithilStonedownwashazardous.Hedidnotintendtocometo harm through

recklessness.Hemadehiswaystrictly

downthevalley;andatitsend, he followed thestream into a crooked filebetween sheer walls, thenturned away along acrevice that ascended atrightanglestothefile.Thecrevice was narrow andcrude, difficult going inthe star-blocked dark; butit leveled after a while,

began to tend downward.Before long, he gained asteep open slope—theeastern face of the Mithilvalley.Dimly in the distance

below him, the valleywidened like a wedgenorthward toward anexpanse of plains. Adeeperblacknessalongthevalleybottomlookedlikeariver.

Beside the river,somewhat tohis right, layaclusteroftinylights.“Mithil Stonedown,” hemurmured. But thenvertigo forcedhim to turnaway leftward along afaint path. He could notrepress hismemory of thetime he had walked thispath with Lena. Until hetold Linden what heremembered,what he had

done,shewouldnotknowwhohewas,wouldnotbeable to choose how shewished to respond tohim.OrtotheLand.He needed her tounderstandhisrelationshiptotheLand.Heneededhersupport, her skills, herstrength.Whyelsehadshebeenchosen?A cold, penetratingdampness thickened the

air; but the exertion ofwalking kept him warm.And the path becamesteadily less difficult as itdescended toward thevalley bottom. As themoon began to crest thepeaks, he gave up allpretense of caution. Hewas hunting for thecouragetosaywhathadtobesaid.Shortly the path curved

off the slopes, doubledback to follow the riveroutward. He glanced atLinden from time to time,wondering where she hadlearned the toughness,unwisdom, or desperationwhich enabled or drovehertoaccompanyhim.Heached for the capacity todescry the truth of her,determine whether herseverity came from

convictionordread.She did not believe in

evil.He had no choice; he

hadtotellher.Compellinghimselfwith

excoriations, he touchedher arm, stopped her. Shelooked at him. “Linden.”She was alabaster in themoonlight—pale and notto be touched. His mouthwinced. “There’s

somethingI’vegottosay.”His visage felt like oldgranite.“Beforewegoanyfarther.” Pain made himwhisper.“The first time I was

here, I met a girl. Lena.She was just a kid—butshe was my friend. Shekept me alive on Kevin’sWatch, when I was soafraid it could have killedme.” His long loneliness

cried out against this self-betrayal.“Irapedher.”She stared at him. Her

lips formed soundlesswords: Raped—? In hergaze,hecould seehimselfbecomingheinous.He did not see the

shadow pass over theirheads, had no warning oftheir danger until the netlanded on them, tangling

them instantly together.Figures surged out of thedarkness around them.One of the attackers hitthem in the faces withsomething which brokeopen and stank like arottenmelon.Thenhecouldnolonger

breathe. He fell withLinden in his arms as iftheywerelovers.

SIX:TheGraveler

Heawokeurgently,witha suffocatingmuck on hisface thatmade him straintomove his arms to clearthe stuff away. But hishandsweretiedbehindhisback.Hegaggedhelplesslyfor a moment, until hefound that he couldbreathe.The dry, chill air was

harsh in his lungs. But herelishedit.Slowlyitdrovebackthenausea.From somewhere nearhim, he heard Linden sayflatly, “You’ll be all right.Theymusthavehituswithsome kind of anesthetic.It’s like ether—makes youfeel sick. But the nauseagoes away. I don’t thinkwe’vebeenhurt.”He rested briefly on the

cold stone, then rolled offhis chest and struggledintoasittingposition.Thebondsmadethemovementdifficult; a wave ofdizziness went throughhim, “Friends,” hemuttered. But the airsteadied him. “Nassic wasright.”“Nassic was right,” she

echoedasifthewordsdidnotinteresther.

They were in a singleroom, as constricted as acell. A heavy curtaincovered the doorway; butopposite the entrance abarredwindowletthepalegray of dawn into theroom—the late dawn of asunrise delayed bymountains. The bars wereiron.Linden sat across fromhim. Her arms angled

behindher;herwrists,too,were bound. Yet she hadmanagedtocleanthepulpfromhercheeks.Shredsofitclungtotheshouldersofhershirt.His own face wore the

dried muck like a leper’snumbness.He shifted so that he

could lean against thewall. The bonds cut intohis wrists. He closed his

eyes. A trap, hemurmured. Nassic’s deathwas a trap. He had beenkilled so that CovenantandLindenwouldblunderinto Mithil Stonedown’sdefenses and be captured.What’s Foul trying to do?he asked the darknessbehind his eyelids. Makeusfightthesepeople?“Why did you do it?”

Linden said.Her tonewas

level,asifshehadalreadyhammeredall theemotionoutofit.“Whydidyoutellmeaboutthatgirl?”Hiseyesjumpedopentolookather.Butinthedimlight he was unable todiscernher expression.Hewanted to say, Leave italone, we’ve got otherthingstoworryabout.Butshe had an absolute rightto know the truth about

him.“I wanted to be honest

with you.”His guts achedat the memory. “Thethings I did when I washere before are going toaffect what happens to usnow. Foul doesn’t forget.And I was afraid”—hefaltered at the cost of hisdesire for rectitude—“youmight trust me withoutknowing what you were

trusting. I don’t want tobetray you—by not beingwhatyouthinkIam.”She did not reply. Her

eyes were shadows whichtoldhimnothing.Abruptlythe pressure of hisunassuaged bitternessbegan to force words outofhimlikebarbs.“After my leprosy was

diagnosed, and Joandivorced me, I was

impotentforayear.ThenIcame here. Something Icouldn’t understand washappening. The Land washealing parts of me thathad been dead so long I’dforgotten I had them.AndLena—” The pang of herstung him like an acid.“ShewassobeautifulIstillhave nightmares about it.Thefirstnight—Itwastoomuchforme.Lepersaren’t

supposedtobepotent.”HedidnotgiveLindena

chance to respond; hewent on, reliving his oldself-judgment. “Everybodypaid for it. I couldn’t getaway from theconsequences. Her motherended up committing akind of suicide. Herfather’s life was warped.The man who wanted tomarry her lost everything.

Herownmindcameapart.“ButIdidn’tstopthere.I

caused her death, and thedeath of her daughter,Elena—my daughter.Because I kept trying toescape the consequences.Everybody refused topunish me. I was Berekreborn.Theywantedmetosave the Land. Lena”—oh,Lena!—“got butcheredtryingtosavemylife.”

Linden listened withoutmoving. She looked like afigureof stone against thewall, blank andunforgiving, as if nomererecitation of guilt couldtouch her. But her kneeswere pressed tightly,defensively, to her chest.When he ceased, she saidthickly, “You shouldn’thavetoldme.”“I had to.” What else

could he say? “It’s who Iam.”“No.”Sheprotestedasif

an accusation of evil hadbeenraisedbetweenthem.“It isn’twhoyou are.Youdidn’t do it intentionally,did you? You saved theLand,didn’tyou?”He faced her squarely.

“Yes.Eventually.”“Then it’s over. Done

with.” Her head dropped

toherknees.Shesqueezedher forehead against themas if to restrain thepounding of her thoughts.“Leavemealone.”Covenant studied the

top of her head, the wayher hair fell about herthighs, and sought tocomprehend. He hadexpected her to denouncehimforwhathehaddone,notforhavingconfessedit.

Whywasshesovulnerableto it? He knew too littleabout her. But how couldhe ask her to tell himthings which she believedpeople should not knowabouteachother?“Idon’tunderstand.”His

voice was gruff withuncertainty. “If that’s theway you feel—why didyou keep coming back?You went to a lot of

trouble to find outwhat Iwashiding.”She kept her face

concealed. “I said, leavemealone.”“I can’t.” A vibration of

anger ran through him.“You wouldn’t be here ifyou hadn’t followedme. Ineedtoknowwhyyoudidit.SoIcandecidewhethertotrustyou.”Her head snapped up.

“I’madoctor.”“That’s not enough,” he

saidrigidly.The light from the

window was growingslowly.Nowhecouldreadpartsofhercountenance—her mouth clenched andsevere, her eyes like darkgouges below herforehead. She regardedhim as if he weretrespassing on her

essentialprivacy.After a long moment,

shesaidsoftly,“IfollowedyoubecauseIthoughtyouwere strong. Every time Isaw you, you werepractically prostrate onyour feet. You weredesperateforhelp.Butyoustood there acting as ifeven exhaustion couldn’ttouch you.” Her wordswere fraught with gall. “I

thought you were strong.But now it turns out youwere just running awayfrom your guilt, likeanybody else. Trying tomake yourself innocentagain, by selling yourselffor Joan. What was Isupposed to do?” Quietfurywhettedhertone.“Letyoucommitsuicide?”Beforehecouldrespond,she went on, “You use

guiltthesamewayyouuseleprosy. You want peopleto reject you, stay awayfrom you—make a victimout of you. So you canrecaptureyourinnocence.”Gradually her intensitysubsided into a dull rasp.“I’vealready seenmoreofit than I can stand. If youthink I’m such a threat toyou, at least leave mealone.”

Againshehidherfaceinherknees.Covenant stared at her

in silence. Her judgmenthurt him like ademonstration ofmendacity. Was that whathe was doing—giving hera moral reason torepudiatehimbecauseshewas unmoved by thephysical reason of hisleprosy? Was he so much

afraid of being helped ortrusted? Cared about?Gaping at this vision ofhimself, he heaved to hisfeet, lurched to thewindowasifheneededtodefendhiseyesbylookingatsomethingelse.But the view only gave

credence to hismemories.It verified that he andLinden were in MithilStonedown. The wall and

roof of another stonedwelling stood directly infrontofnun;andoneithersideof ithecould see thecornersof otherbuildings.Their walls were ancient,weatheredandbatteredbycenturies of use. Theywere made withoutmortar, formed of largeslabs and chunks of rockheldtogetherbytheirownweight, topped by flat

roofs. And beyond theroofswerethemountains.Abovethem,theskyhadabrowntinge,asifitwerefullofdust.He had been herebefore,andcouldnotdenythe truth; he was indeedafraid. Too many peoplewho cared about him hadalready paid horrendouslytogivehimhelp.Linden’s silence

throbbedathisbacklikeabruise; but he remainedstill, and watched thesunriseflowdownintothevalley. When the tensionin him became insistent,hesaidwithoutturning,“Iwonderwhatthey’regoingtodowithus.”As if in answer, the

room brightened suddenlyas the curtain was thrustaside. He swung around

and found a man in thedoorway.The Stonedownor wasabout Linden’s height, butbroader and moremuscular than Covenant.His black hair and darkskin were emphasized bythecolorofhisstiffleatherjerkin and leggings. Hewore nothing on his feet.Inhisrighthandheheldalong, wooden staff as if it

articulatedhisauthority.Heappearedtobeaboutthirty. His features had ayouthful cast; but theywere contradicted by twodeepfrownlinesabovethebridgeofhisnose, andbythe dullness of his eyes,which seemed to havebeen worn dim by toomuch accumulated anduselessregret.Themusclesat the corners of his jaw

bulged as if he had beengrinding his teeth foryears.His leftarmhungathis

side. From elbow toknuckle, it was intaglioedwithfinewhitescars.He did not speak; he

stoodfacingCovenantandLinden as if he expectedthemtoknowwhyhehadcome.Linden lurched to her

feet. Covenant took twostepsforward,sothattheystood shoulder-to-shoulderbeforetheStonedownor.The man hesitated,

searched Covenant’s face.Then he moved into theroom. With his left hand,he reached out toCovenant’sbatteredcheek.Covenant winced

slightly, then held himselfstill while the

Stonedownor carefullybrushed the dried pulpfromhisface.He felt a pang ofgratitude at the touch; itseemed to accord himmore dignity than hedeserved. He studied theman’s brown, strongmienclosely, trying to decipherwhatlaybehindit.When he was done, theStonedownor turned and

left the room, holding thecurtain open for CovenantandLinden.Covenant lookedtowardher to see if she neededencouragement. But shedidnotmeethisgaze.Shewas already moving. Hetook a deep breath, andfollowed her out of thehut.Hefoundhimselfontheedge of the broad, round,

open center of MithilStonedown.Itmatchedhismemory of it closely. Allthe houses faced inward;and the ones beyond theinner ringwerepositionedtogiveasmanyaspossibledirectaccesstothecenter.Butnowhecouldsee thatseveral of themhad fallenintoseriousdisrepair,asiftheir occupants did notknow how tomend them.

If that were true— Hesnarled to himself. Howcould these people haveforgottentheirstone-lore?The sun shone over the

easternridgeintohisface.Squinting at it indirectly,he saw that the orb hadlostitsblueaurora.Nowitwore pale brown like atranslucentcymar.The Stonedown

appeared deserted.All the

door-curtains were closed.Nothing moved—not inthe village, not on themountainsides or in theair. He could not evenhear the river. The valleylayunderthedrydawnasif it had been strickendumb.A slow scraping of fear

began to abrade hisnerves.The man with the staff

strode out into the circle,beckoning for Covenantand Linden to follow himacross the bare stone. Asthey did so, he gazedmorosely around thevillage. He leaned on hisstaffas if thethewswhichheldhis life togetherweretired.But after a moment heshook himself into action.Slowly he raised the staff

over his head. In adetermined tone, he said,“Thisisthecenter.”At once, the curtainsopened. Men and womenstepped purposefully outoftheirhomes.Theywereallsoliddarkpeople, appareled inleather garments. Theyformedaringlikeanoosearound the rim of thecircle, and stared at

Covenant and Linden.Their faces were wary,hostile, shrouded.Someofthem bore blunt javelinslike jerrids; but no otherweaponswerevisible.The man with the staffjoinedthem.Together,thering of Stonedownors satdown cross-legged on theground.Onlyoneman remainedstanding.Hestayedbehind

theothers, leaningagainstthe wall of a house withhisarmsfoldednegligentlyacross his chest. His lipsworearapacioussmilelikean anticipation ofbloodshed.Covenant guessedinstinctively that thismanwas Mithil Stonedown’sexecutioner.The villagers made nosound. They watched

Covenant and Lindenwithout moving, almostwithout blinking. Theirsilencewasloudintheair,likethecryofathroatthathadnovoice.The sun began to drawsweat from Covenant’sscalp.“Somebody saysomething,” he mutteredthroughhisteeth.Abruptly Linden nudged

his arm. “That’s whatthey’re waiting for. We’reontrial.Theywanttohearwhat we’ve got to say forourselves.”“Terrific.” He acceptedher intuitive explanationat once; she had eyeswhichhe lacked.“What’reweontrialfor?”Grimly she replied,“Maybe they foundNassic.”

He groaned. That madesense. Perhaps Nassic hadbeen killed precisely sothat he and Lindenwouldbe blamed for the crime.Andyet—Hetuggedathisbonds, wishing his handswere freeso thathecouldwipe the sweat from hisface. And yet it did notexplainwhytheyhadbeencapturedinthefirstplace.The silence was

intolerable.Themountainsandthehousescuppedthecenter of the village likean arena. TheStonedownors satimpassively, like icons ofjudgment. Covenantscanned them, musteredwhat little dignity hepossessed. Then he begantospeak.“My name is ur-Lord

Thomas Covenant,

Unbelieverandwhitegoldwielder. My companion isLinden Avery.”Deliberatelyhegaveheratitle. “TheChosen.She’sastranger to theLand.”Thedark people returned hisgaze blankly. The manleaning against the wallbared his teeth. “But I’mno stranger,” Covenantwent on in sudden anger.“You threaten me at your

peril.”“Covenant,” Lindenbreathed,reprovinghim.“I know,” he muttered.“Ishouldn’tsaythingslikethat.” Then he addressedthe people again. “Wewere welcomed by Nassicson of Jous. He wasn’t afriend of yours—or youweren’t friends of his,becauseGodknowshewasharmless.” Nassic had

looked so forlorn in death— “But he said he had ason here. A man namedSunder. Is Sunder here?Sunder?” He searched thering. No one responded.“Sunder,” he rasped,“whoeveryouare—doyouknow your father wasmurdered? We found himoutside his house with anironknifeinhisback.Theknifewasstillhot.”

Someone in the circlegave a low moan; butCovenant did not seewhoit was. Linden shook herhead; she also had notseen.The sky had becomepale brown from edge toedge. The heat of the sunwasasaridasdust.“I think the killer liveshere. I think he’s one ofyou. Or don’t you even

careaboutthat?”Nobody reacted. Everyfaceregardedhimas ifhewere some kind of ghoul.Thesilencewasabsolute.“Hellfire.” He turnedback to Linden. “I’m justmaking a fool out ofmyself. You got anyideas?”Hergazeworeanaspectof supplication. “I don’tknow—I’ve never been

herebefore.”“Neither have I.” Hecouldnot suppresshis ire.“Not to a place like this.Courtesy and hospitalityused to be so importanthere that people whocouldn’t provide themwere ashamed.”Remembering the wayTrell and Atiaran, Lena’sparents, had welcomedhim to their home, he

ground his teeth. With asilentcurse,heconfrontedthe Stonedownors. “Arethe other villages likethis?” he demanded. “Isthe whole Land sick withsuspicion? Or is this theonly place where simpledecency has beenforgotten?”The man with the stafflowered his eyes. No oneelsemoved.

“ByGod, if you can’t atleasttolerateus,letusgo!We’llwalkoutofhere,andnever look back. Someother village will give uswhatweneed.”The man behind the

circlegaveagrinofmaliceandtriumph.“Damnation,” Covenant

muttered to himself. Thesilence was maddening.Hisheadwasbeginningto

throb.Thevalleyfeltlikeadesert. “I wish Mhoramwashere.”Dully Linden asked,“Who is Mhoram?” Hereyes were fixed on thestanding man. Hecommanded her attentionlikeanopenwound.“One of the Lords ofRevelstone.” Covenantwondered what she wasseeing. “Also a friend. He

had a talent for dealingwith impossiblesituations.”She wrenched her gazefrom the gloating man,glared at Covenant.Frustration and anxietymade her tone sedulous.“He’s dead. All yourfriends are dead.” Hershoulders strainedinvoluntarilyatherbonds.“They’ve been dead for

three thousand years.You’re living in the past.Howbaddothingshavetoget before you give upthinking about the waytheyusedtobe?”“I’m trying to

understand what’shappened!” Her attackshamedhim.Itwasunjust—and yet he deserved it.Everything he saiddemonstrated his

inadequacy. He swungawayfromher.“Listen to me!” hebeseeched theStonedownors. “I’ve beenhere before—long ago,during the great waragainst the Gray Slayer. Ifought him. So the Landcouldbehealed.Andmenand women from MithilStonedown helped me.Your ancestors. The Land

was saved by the courageof Stonedownors andWoodhelvennin and LordsandGiantsandBloodguardandRanyhyn.“But something’shappened. There’ssomething wrong in theLand. That’s why we’rehere.” Remembering theold song of KevinLandwaster, he saidformally, “So that beauty

and truth should not passutterlyfromtheEarth.”Withtone,face,posture,

hebeggedforsomekindofresponse,acknowledgment,fromthecircle. But theStonedownors refusedeveryappeal.Hisexertionshad tightened the bondson his wrists, aggravatingthenumbnessofhishands.The sun began to raise

heat-wavesinthedistance.Hefeltgiddy,futile.“I don’t knowwhat youwant,” he breathedthickly. “I don’t knowwhat you think we’reguiltyof.Butyou’rewrongabout her.” He indicatedLinden with his head.“She’s never been herebefore.She’sinnocent.”A snort of derisionstoppedhim.

Hefoundhimselfstaringat the man who stoodbehind the circle. Theireyes came together like aclashofweapons.Themanhadlosthisgrin;heglaredscorn and denunciation atCovenant. He heldviolence folded in thecrooks of his elbows. ButCovenantdidnotfalter.Hestraightened his back,squaredhisshoulders,met

the naked threat of theman’sgaze.After one taut moment,themanlookedaway.Softly Covenant said,“We’re not on trial here.You are. The doomof theLandisinyourhands,andyou’reblindtoit.”An instant of silencecovered the village; thewhole valley seemed tohold its breath. Then the

lone man cried suddenly,“Must we hear more?”Contemptandfearcollidedin his tone. “He hasutteredfoulnessenoughtodamnascoreof strangers.Let us pass judgmentnow!”At once, the man withthestaffsprangtohisfeet.“Be still, Marid,” he saidsternly.“IamtheGravelerof Mithil Stonedown. The

test of silence is mine tobegin—andtoend.”“It is enough!” retorted

Marid. “Can there begreater ill thanthatwhichhehasalreadyspoken?”A dour crepitating of

assent ran through thecircle.Linden moved closer to

Covenant. Her eyes werelocked to Marid as if heappalled her. Nausea

twisted her mouth.Covenantlookedather,atMarid, trying to guesswhatlaybetweenthem.“Very well.” TheGraveler took a stepforward.“Itisenough.”Heplanted his staff on thestone. “Stonedownors,speak what you haveheard.”For a moment, thepeoplewere still. Then an

oldmanroseslowlytohisfeet. He adjusted hisjerkin, pulled his gravityabout him. “I have heardthe Rede of the na-Mhoram,asitisspokenbythe Riders of the Clave.They have said that thecoming of the man withthehalfhandandthewhitering bodes unending ruinfor us all. They have saidthatitisbettertoslaysuch

a man in his slumber,allowing the blood to fallwasted to the earth, thanto permit him one freebreathwithwhichtoutterevil.Onlytheringmustbepreserved,andgiventotheRiders, so that allblasphemymaybeavertedfromtheLand.”Blasphemy? Clave?

Covenant grappleduselessly with his

incomprehension. WhobesidesNassic’sUnfetteredancestor had foretold thereturnoftheUnbeliever?The old man concludedwithanodtotheGraveler.Opposite him, a middle-aged woman stood.Jabbing her hand towardCovenant, she said, “Hespoke thenameof thena-Mhoram as a friend. Arenotthena-Mhoramandall

his Clave bitter to MithilStonedown? Do not hisRidersreaveusofblood—and not of the old whosedeathsarenigh,butoftheyoung whose lives areprecious? Let these twodie! Our herd has alreadysufferedlongdayswithoutforage.”“Folly!” the old manreplied. “You will notspeak so when next the

Rider comes. It will besoon—our time nearsagain.InalltheLandonlythe Clave has power overthe Sunbane. The burdenoftheirsacrificingisheavyto us—but we would lacklife altogether if theyfailed to spend the bloodofthevillages.”“Yet is there not a

contradiction here?” theGraveler interposed. “He

names the na-Mhoram asfriend—and yet the mostdire Rede of the Clavespeaksagainsthim,”“For both they must

die!” Marid spatimmediately. “The na-Mhoram is not our friend,buthispowerissure.”“True!” voices said

aroundthering.“Yes.”“True.”

Linden brushedCovenant with hershoulder. “Thatman,” shewhispered.“Marid.There’ssomething— Do you seeit?”“No,” respondedCovenant through histeeth. “I told you I can’t.Whatisit?”“I don’t know.” Shesounded frightened.“Something—”

Then another womanstood. “He seeks to bereleasedsothathemaygotoanotherStonedown.Arenot all other villages ourfoes?TwicehasWindshornStonedown raided ourfields during the fertilesun, so that our belliesshrank and our childrencried in the night. Let thefriendsofourfoesdie.”Again theStonedownors

growled,“Yes.”“True.”Without warning,Marid

shouted over the grumbleof voices, “They slewNassic father of Sunder!Areweapeopletopermitmurder unavenged? Theymustdie!”“No!” Linden’s

instantaneous denialcracked across the circlelikeascourge.“Wedidnot

kill that harmless oldman!”Covenantwhirledtoher.

Butshedidnotnoticehim;her attention wasconsumedbyMarid.In a tone of acid

mockery, the man asked,“Doyoufeartodie,LindenAverytheChosen?”“Whatis it?”shegritted

back at him. “What areyou?”

“What do you see?”Covenanturged.“Tellme.”“Something—” Her

voicegroped;butherstaredid not waver.Perspiration had darkenedher hair along the line ofherforehead.“It’slikethatstorm.Somethingevil.”Intuitions flared like

spots of sun-blindnessacross Covenant’s mind.“Somethinghot.”

“Yes!”HergazeaccusedMarid fiercely. “Like theknife.”Covenant spun,confrontedMarid. He wassuddenly calm. “You,” hesaid.“Marid.Comehere.”“No, Marid,”commandedtheGraveler.“Hell and blood!”Covenant rasped likedeliberate ice. “My handsare tied.Areyouafraid to

findoutthetruth?”HedidnotglanceattheGraveler;he held Marid with hiswill.“Comehere.I’llshowyouwhokilledNassic.”“Watch out,” Lindenwhispered. “He wants tohurtyou.”Scorn twisted Marid’sface.Foramoment,hedidnotmove.Butnowall theeyes of the Stonedownwereonhim,watchinghis

reaction. And Covenantgave him no release. Aspasm of fear or gleetightened Marid’sexpression. Abruptly hestrode forward, halted infront of Covenant and theGraveler. “Speak yourlies,”hesneered.“Youwillchoke upon them beforeyoudie.”Covenant did not

hesitate. “Nassic was

stabbed in the back,” hesaid softly, “with an ironknife. Itwasa lousyjob—hebledtodeath.Whenwelefthim,theknifewasstillhot.”Marid swallowed

convulsively. “You are afool.WhatmanorwomanofMithilStonedowncouldwieldaknifewith the fireyetwithin it?Out of yourown mouth you are

condemned.”“Graveler,” Covenant

said,“touchhimwithyourstaff.”Around him, the

Stonedownorsrosetotheirfeet.“Forwhatpurpose?”the

Graveler askeduncertainly. “It is merewood. It has no virtue todetermine guilt orinnocence.”

Covenant clinchedMaridinhisgaze.“Doit.”Hesitantly the Graveler

obeyed.As the tip of the staff

neared him, Marid shied.But then a savageexaltation lit his face, andheremainedstill.The staff touched his

shoulder.Instantlythewoodburst

intoredfire.

TheGraveler recoiled inastonishment.Stonedownors gasped,gripped each other forreassurance.With an explosivemovement, Maridbackhanded Covenantacrossthesideofhishead.The unnatural power ofthe blow catapultedCovenant backward. Hetumbled heavily to the

ground. Pain like acidburned through his soreskull.“Covenant!” Lindencriedfearfully.He heard the Gravelerprotest, “Marid!”—heardthe fright of theStonedownors turn toanger. Then the painbecame a roaring thatdeafened him. For amoment,hewas toodizzy

tomove.Buthefoughtthefire, heavedhimself tohisknees so that everyonecould see the mark ofMarid’s blow among hisbruises. “Nice work, youbastard,” he rasped. Hisvoice seemed to make nosound. “What were youafraidof?Didyouthinkhewas going to help us thatmuch? Or were you justhavingfun?”

He was aware of a lowbuzzing around him, butcouldnotmakeoutwords.Marid stood with armsacrosshischest,grinning.Covenant thrust his

voice through the roar.“Why don’t you tell usyour real name? Is itHerem?Jehannum?MaybeSheol?”Linden was beside him.

She strove fervidly to free

her hands; but the bondsheld. Her mouth cheweddumbcurses.“Come on,” he

continued, though hecould barely see Maridbeyond the pain. “Attackme. Take your chances.Maybe I’ve forgotten howtouseit.”AbruptlyMaridbeganto

laugh: laughterasgelidashate. It penetrated

Covenant’s hearing,resounded inhishead likeaconcussion.“Itwillavailyou nothing!” he shouted.“Yourdeathiscertain!Youcannotharmme!”TheGravelerbrandishedhis flaming staff atMarid.DimlyCovenantheard themanrage,“HaveyouslainNassicmyfather?”“With joy!” laughed theRaver.“Ah,howit fedme

to plant my blade in hisback!”A woman shrieked.Before anyone could stopher, she sped in a blur ofgray hair across the openspace, hurled herself atMarid.He collapsed as if theimpacthadkilledhim.Covenant’sstrengthgaveout.Hefelltohisback,laypanting heavily on the

stone.Thenastenchofburned

fleshsickenedtheair.Oneof the Stonedownors criedout,“Sunder!Herhands!”Another demanded, “Is

heslain?”“No!”camethereply.Lindenwasyelling. “Let

mego!I’madoctor!Icanhelp her!” She soundedfrantic. “Don’t you knowwhatadoctoris?”

A moment later, handsgripped Covenant’s arms,lifted him to his feet. AStonedownor swamtoward him through thehurt; slowly, the faceresolved, became theGraveler. His brow was aknot of anger and grief.Stiffly, he said, “Maridsleeps. My mother isdeeplyburned.Tellmethemeaningofthis.”

“A Raver.” Covenant’sbreathingshudderedinhislungs. “Bloody hell.” Hecouldnotthinkorfindthewordsheneeded.The Graveler bunched

his fists in Covenant’sshirt.“Speak!”From somewhere

nearby, Linden shouted,“Goddamn it, leave himalone! Can’t you see he’shurt?”

Covenant fought forclarity. “Let her go,” hesaidtotheGraveler.“She’sahealer.”The muscles along the

Graveler’s jaw knotted,released. “I havenot beengiven reason to trust her.SpeaktomeofMarid.”Marid,Covenantpanted.

“Listen.” Sweating anddizzy, he squeezed thepain out of his mind. “It

wasaRaver.”The Graveler’s glarerevealed nocomprehension.“When he wakes up,he’ll probably be normalagain. May not evenrememberwhathappened.He was taken over. ThatRaver could be anywhere.Itisn’thurt.Youneedalotof power to knock one ofthem out, even

temporarily.You’vegot towatch for it. It could takeover anybody. Watch forsomebody who startsacting strange. Violent.Stay away from them. Imeanit.”The Graveler listenedfirst with urgency, thenwith disgust. Exasperationpulsed in the veins of histemples. Before Covenantfinished, the Stonedownor

turned on his heel, strodeaway.Immediately the hands

holding Covenant’s armsdragged him out of thecenterofthevillage.Linden was ahead of

him. She struggleduselessly between twoburly men. They impelledherbackintotheirjail.“Damnation,” Covenant

said. His voice had no

force. “I’m trying to warnyou.”His captors did not

respond. They thrust himinto the hut after Linden,andlethimfall.Hesanktothefloor.The

cool dimness of the roomwashed over him. Thesuddenness of his releasefrom the sun’s brownpressure made the floorwheel. But he rested his

painonthesoothingstone;and gradually that quiettouchsteadiedhim.Linden was cursing

bitterlyinthestillness.Hetried to raise his head.“Linden.”At once, she moved to

his side. “Don’t try to getup.Justletmeseeit.”He turned his head to

showherhishurt.She bent over him. He

could feel her breath onhischeek.“You’reburned,butitdoesn’tlookserious.First-degree.” Her tonetwitched with nausea andhelplessness. “None of thebonesarecracked.Howdoyoufeel?”“Dizzy,” he murmured.“Deaf.I’llbeallright.”“Sure you will,” shegrated. “You probablyhave a concussion. I’ll bet

youwanttogotosleep.”Hemumbledassent.Thedarkness in his headoffered him cool peace,and he longed to lethimselfdrowninit.She took a breaththrough her teeth. “Situp.”He did not move; helackedthestrengthtoobeyher.She nudged him with

her knee. “I’m serious. Ifyougotosleep,youmightdrift into a coma, and Iwon’t be able to doanything about it. You’vegottostayawake.Situp.”The ragged edge in her

voicesoundedlikeathreatof hysteria. Gritting histeeth,he tried to rise.Hotpain flayed the bones ofhis head; but he priedhimself erect, then

slumpedtothesidesothathis shoulder was bracedagainstthewall.“Good,” Linden sighed.

The pounding in his skullformed a gulf betweenthem. She seemed smalland lonely, aggrieved bythe loss of the world sheunderstood. “Now try tostay alert. Talk to me.”After a moment, she said,“Tellmewhathappened.”

Herecognizedherneed.Marid incarnated the fearswhich Nassic’s death hadraised for her. A beingwholivedonhate,relishedviolence and anguish. Sheknew nothing about suchthings.“A Raver.” Covenant

tried to slip his voicequietly past the pain. “Ishouldhaveknown.Maridis just a Stonedownor. He

waspossessedbyaRaver.”Linden backed away

from him, composedherself against theopposite wall. Her gazeheld his face. “What’s aRaver?”“Servant of Foul.” He

closedhiseyes, leanedhishead to the stone, so thathe could concentrate onwhat he was saying.“There are three of them.

Herem, Sheol, Jehannum—they have a lot ofdifferent names. Theydon’t have bodies of theirown, so they take overother people—evenanimals,Iguess.Whateverthey can find. So they’realways in disguise.” Hesighed—gently, tominimize the effect onhishead. “I just hope thesepeople understand what

thatmeans.”“So,” she askedcarefully,“whatIsawwasthe Raver inside Marid?That’swhyhelookedso—sowrong?”“Yes.”When he focusedon her voice, his hurtbecame lessdemanding; itgrewhotter,butalsomorespecific and limited. As afireinhisskinratherthana cudgel in his brain, it

crippled his thinking less.“Marid was just a victim.TheRaverusedhimtokillNassic—set us up for this.WhatIdon’tknowiswhy.Does Foul want us killedhere? Or is theresomething else going on?IfFoulwantsusdead,thatRavermade a bigmistakewhen it let itself getcaught. Now theStonedown has something

besidesustothinkabout.”“What I don’t know,”

Lindensaidinalornvoicelike an appeal, “is how Iwasabletoseeit.Noneofthisispossible.”Her tone sparked

unexpected memories.Suddenly he realized thattheway she had stared atMarid was the same wayshe had regarded Joan.That encounter with Joan

hadshakenhervisibly.He opened his eyes,

watched her as he said,“That’s one of the fewthings that seems naturaltome.Iusedtobeabletosee what you’re seeingnow—the other times Iwas here.” Her face wasturned toward him, butshe was not looking athim. Her attention wasbent inward as she

struggled with the lunacyof her predicament. “Yoursenses,”hewenton,tryingtohelpher,“arebecomingattuned to the Land.You’re becoming sensitiveto the physical spiritaround you. More andmore,you’regoingtolookatsomething,orhearit,ortouchit,andbeabletotellwhetherit’ssickorhealthy—natural or unnatural.”

Shedidnotappeartohearhim. Defying his pain, herasped, “Which isn’thappening to me.” Hewanted to pull her out ofherself before she lost herway. “For all I can see, Imightaswellbeblind.”Her head flinched fromside to side. “What if I’mwrong?” she breathedmiserably. “What if I’mlosingmymind?”

“No!Thatpartofyouisnever going to be wrong.And you can’t lose yourmind unless you let ithappen.” Wildnessknuckled her features.“Don’tgiveup.”Sheheardhim.With an

effortthatwrunghisheart,shecompelledherbodytorelax, muscle by muscle.She drew a breath thattrembled; but when she

exhaled,shewascalmer.“Ijustfeelsohelpless.”He said nothing,waited

forher.After a moment, she

sniffed sharply, shook herhair away from her face,met his gaze. “If theseRavers can possessanybody,” she said, “whynot us? If we’re soimportant—if this LordFoul iswhatyousayheis

—why doesn’t he justmake us into Ravers, andgetitoverwith?”With a silent groan of

relief, Covenant allowedhimself to sag. “That’s theone thing he can’t do. Hecan’t afford it. He’llmanipulate us every wayhe can, but he has toaccept the risk that wewon’t do what he wants.He needs our freedom.

What he wants from uswon’thaveanyvalueifwedon’t do it by choice.”Also, he went on tohimself, Foul doesn’t darelet a Raver get my ring.Howcouldhe trustoneofthem with that muchpower?Linden frowned. “That

might make sense—if Iunderstoodwhatmakesusso important. What we’ve

got that he could possiblywant.Butnevermindthatnow.” She took a deepbreath. “If I could see theRaver—why couldn’tanybodyelse?”Her question pangedCovenant. “That’s whatreally scares me,” he saidtautly.“Thesepeopleusedto be like you. Now theyaren’t.” And I’m not. “I’mafraideven to thinkabout

what that means. They’velost—” Lost the insightwhichtaughtthemtoloveand serve the Land—tocare about it aboveeverything else. Oh, Foul,you bastard, what haveyou done? “If they can’tseethedifferencebetweenaRaverandanormalman,thentheywon’tbeabletosee that they should trustus.”

Her mouth tightened.“You mean they’re stillplanningtokillus.”Before Covenant could

reply, the curtain wasthrust aside, and theGravelerenteredtheroom.His eyes were glazed

withtrouble,andhisbrowwore a scowlof involitionand mourning, as if hisessential gentleness hadbeen harmed. He had left

his staffbehind;hishandshung at his sides. But hecould not keep them still.Theymovedinslightjerks,half gestures, as if theysought unconsciously forsomething he could holdonto.After a moment of

awkwardness,hesatdownon his heels near theentryway.Hedidnot lookat his prisoners; his gaze

lay on the floor betweenthem.“Sunder,”Covenant said

softly,“sonofNassic.”The Graveler nodded

withoutraisinghiseyes.Covenantwaitedforhim

to speak.But theGravelerremained silent, as if hewere abashed. After amoment, Covenant said,“That woman whoattacked Marid. She was

yourmother.”“Kalina Nassic-mate,daughter of Alloma.” Heheldhimselfharshlyquiet.“Mymother.”Linden peered intentlyatSunder.“Howisshe?”“She rests. But herinjury is deep. We havelittle healing for suchhurts. It may be that shewillbesacrificed.”Covenant saw Linden

poised to demand to beallowed to help thewoman. But he forestalledher.“Sacrificed?”“Her blood belongs tothe Stonedown.” Sunder’svoice limped under aweight of pain. “It mustnotbewasted.OnlyNassicmy fatherwould not haveaccepted this.Therefore”—his throatknotted—“it is well he

knew not that I am theGraveler of MithilStonedown.ForitisIwhowillshedthesacrifice.”Linden recoiled. Aghast,

Covenant exclaimed,“You’re going to sacrificeyourownmother?”“For the survival of the

Stonedown!” croakedSunder. “We must haveblood.” Then he clampeddown his emotion. “You

alsowillbesacrificed.TheStonedown has made itsjudgment. You will beshed at the rising of themorrow’ssun.”Covenant glared at the

Graveler. Ignoring thethrob in his head, herasped,“Why?”“I have come to make

answer.”Sunder’stoneandhis downcast eyesreproved Covenant. The

Graveler plainly loathedhis responsibility; yet hedid not shirk it. “Thereasons are many. Youhave asked to be releasedso that youmayapproachanothervillage.”“I’mlookingforfriends,”

Covenantcounteredstiffly.“If I can’t find them here,I’lltrysomewhereelse.”“No.” The Graveler was

certain. “Another

Stonedown would do aswe do. Because you cameto them from MithilStonedown, they wouldsacrificeyou.Inaddition,”he continued, “you havespoken friendship for thena-Mhoram,whoreavesusofblood.”Covenant blinked at

Sunder. These accusationsformedapatternhe couldnot decipher. “I don’t

knowanyna-Mhoram.TheMhoram I knew has beendead for at least threethousandyears.”“That is not possible.”Sunder spoke withoutraising his head. “Youhave no more than twoscore years.” His handstwisted.“But that signifieslittle beside the Rede ofthe Clave. Though theRiders are loathly to us,

their power andknowledge is beyonddoubt. They have foretoldyour coming for ageneration. And they arenigh. A Rider will arrivesoontoenforcethewillofthe Clave. Retribution forany disregard would besore upon us. Their wordis one we dare not defy.Our sole concern is thatthesheddingofyourblood

mayaidthesurvivaloftheStonedown.”“Wait,” Covenant

objected. “One thing at atime.” Pain andexasperation vied in hishead. “Three thousandyears ago, a man with ahalfhandandawhitegoldring saved the Land frombeing completelydestroyed by the GraySlayer.Doyoumeantotell

me that’s been forgotten?Nobody remembers thestory?”The Graveler shifted his

weight uncomfortably. “Ihave heard such a tale—perhaps I alone in MithilStonedown. Nassic myfather spoke of suchthings. But he was mad—lost in his wits like Jousand Prassan before him.He would have been

sacrificed to the need oftheStonedown,hadKalinahis wife and I permittedit.”Sunder’s tone was a

revelation to Covenant. ItprovidedhimaglimpseoftheGraveler’s self-conflict.Sunder was torn betweenwhathisfatherhadtaughthim and what theStonedown accepted astruth. Consciously he

believed what his peoplebelieved; but theconvictionsofhishalf-madfather worked on himbelowthesurface,erodinghis confidence. He was aman unreconciled tohimself.This insight softenedCovenant’s vexation. Hesensed a range ofpossibilities in Sunder,intuitions of hope; but he

handled them1 gingerly.“All right,” he said. “Letthatpass.Howiskillingusgoingtohelpyou?”“IamtheGraveler.Withblood I am able to shapetheSunbane.”Themusclesalonghisjawclenchedandrelaxedwithoutrhythmorpurpose. “Today we lieunder the desert sun—today, and for perhaps asmany as three daysmore.

Beforethisday,thesunofrain was upon us, and itfollowed the sun ofpestilence.Ourherdneedsforage, as we need crops.Withyourblood, Iwillbeable to draw water fromthe hard earth. I will beable to raise an acre,perhapstwoacres,ofgrassand grain. Life for theStonedown, until thefertilesuncomesagain.”

This made no sense toCovenant. Fumbling forcomprehension, he asked,“Can’tyougetwateroutoftheriver?”“Thereisnowaterinthe

river.”Abruptly Linden spoke.

“No water?” The wordsconveyedthedepthofherincredulity. “That’s notpossible. It rainedyesterday.”

“I have said,” Sundersnapped like a man inpain, “that we lie underthe desert sun. Have younotbeheldit?”In his astonishment,

Covenant turned toLinden. “Is he telling thetruth?”Sunder’sheadjerkedup.

His eyes nicked back andforth between CovenantandLinden.

Through her teeth, shesaid,“Yes.It’strue.”Covenant trusted her

hearing.Heswungbacktothe Graveler. “So there’snowater.” Steadiness roseinhim—amusteringofhisresources. “Let that pass,too.”Thethrobinhisheadinsisted on hishelplessness;butheclosedhisearstoit.“Tellmehowyoudo it.Howyou shape

theSunbane.”Sunder’s eyes expressedhis reluctance. ButCovenant held theGravelerwithhisdemand.Whatever strength of willSunder possessed, he wastoounsureofhimselfnowtorefuse.Howmanytimeshad his father told himabout the Unbeliever?After a moment, heacceded. “I am the

Graveler.” He reached ahand into his jerkin. “IbeartheSunstone.”Almost reverently, he

drew out a piece of rockhalfthesizeofhisfist.Thestone was smooth,irregularly shaped. Bysometrickofitssurface,itappeared transparent, butnothingshowedthroughit.It was like a hole in hishand.

“Hellfire,” Covenantbreathed. Keen relief ranthroughhim.Herewasonehard solid piece of hope.“Orcrest.”The Graveler peered athim in surprise. “Do youhave knowledge of theSunstone?”“Sunder.” Covenantspoke stiffly to control hisexcitementandanxiety.“Ifyoutrytokilluswiththat

thing, people are going togethurt.”The Stonedownor shookhis head. “You will notresist. Mirkfruit will bebroken in your faces—thesame melon which madeyoucaptive.Therewillbenopain.”“Oh,therewillbepain,”growled Covenant. “You’llbe in pain.” Deliberatelyhe put pressure on the

Graveler. “You’ll be theonly one in this wholeStonedown who knowsyou’re destroying the lasthope of the Land. It’s toobad your father died. Hewould have found somewaytoconvinceyou.”“Enough!” Sunder

almost shouted at thelaceration of his spirit. “Ihave uttered the words Icame to speak. In this at

least I have shown youwhat courtesy I may. Ifthereisaughtelsethatyouwouldsay,thensayitandhavedone.Imustbeaboutmywork.”Covenantdidnotrelent.

“WhataboutMarid?”Sunder jerked to his

feet,stoodgloweringdownat Covenant. “He is aslayer, unshriven by anybenefit to the Stonedown

—a violator of the Redewhich all accept. He willbepunished.”“You’re going to punish

him?” Covenant’s controlfaltered in agitation.“What for?” He strugglederect,thrusthisfaceattheGraveler. “Didn’tyouhearwhat I told you? He’sinnocent. He was takenover by aRaver. Itwasn’thisfault.”

“Yes,” Sunder retorted.“And he ismy friend. Butyousayheisinnocent,andyour words have nomeaning. We knownothingofanyRaver.TheRede is the Rede. He willbepunished.”“Goddamn it!” snapped

Covenant, “did you touchhim?”“AmIa fool?Yes, Iput

my hand upon him. The

fireofhisguiltisgone.Hehas awakened and istormented with thememory of a noisomething which came uponhimoutoftherain.Yethisact remains. He will bepunished.”Covenantwantedtotake

holdoftheGraveler,shakehim. But his efforts onlymadethebondscutdeeperinto his wrists. Darkly he

asked,“How?”“Hewillbebound.”The

soft violence of Sunder’stone sounded like self-flagellation. “Borne outinto the Plains during thenight. The Sunbane willhavenomercyforhim.”Inire or regret, he evadedCovenant’sglare.Withaneffort,Covenant

put aside the question ofMarid’s fate, postponed

everything he did notunderstand about theSunbane.Insteadheasked,“Are you really going tokillKalina?”Sunder’s hands twitched

as if they wantedCovenant’sthroat.“ShoulditevercometopassthatIam free to leave thisroom,”heraspedacidly,“Iwilldomyutmost tohealher.Herbloodwillnotbe

shed until her death iswrittenonherforeheadforall to see. Do you seek toprevent me from herside?”The Graveler’s distress

touched Covenant. Hisindignation fell away. Heshookhishead,thenurgedquietly, “Untie Linden.Takeherwithyou.She’sahealer.Maybeshe—”Linden interrupted him.

“No.” Despite its flatness,her voice carried a timbreof despair. “I don’t evenhavemybag. Sheneedsahospital, not wishfulthinking.Lethimmakehisowndecisions.”Covenant wheeled

toward her. Was this thesame woman who hadinsistedwithsuchpassion,Icanhelpher!Herfacewashalf hidden by her hair.

“Isn’t there anything youcando?”“Third-degree burns”—she articulated each wordasifitwereamaskforthecontradictionsofherheart—“are hard enough totreat under the bestcircumstances. If hewantsto commit euthanasia,that’s his business. Don’tbe so goddamnjudgmental.”

Without transition, sheaddressed Sunder. “Weneedfood.”He regarded hersuspiciously. “LindenAvery, there are thingsthat I would give you foryour ease, but food is notamong them. We do notwaste food on any man,woman, or child who isunder judgment. Kalinamy mother will not be

given food unless I amable to show that she canbehealed.”She did not deign to

lookathim.“Wealsoneedwater.”Cursing sourly, Sunder

turnedonhisheel,slappedthecurtainoutofhisway.As he left, he snapped,“You will have water.”Outside he yelled atsomeone, “The prisoners

require water!” Then hepassedbeyondearshot.Covenant watched the

swaying of the curtain,and strove to still hisconfusion. He could feelhis pulse beating like therhythm of slow flame inthe bones of his skull.What was wrong withLinden? Moving carefully,he went to her. She satwithhergazelowered,her

features shrouded by thedimness of the room. Hesank to his knees to askherwhatwasthematter.She faced him harshly,

shookherhair.“Imustbehysterical. These peopleareplanningtokillus.Forsome silly reason, thatbothersme.”He studied her for a

moment, measuring herbelligerence, then

retreatedtositagainsttheopposite wall. What elsecould he do? She wasalready foundering; hecould not insist that shesurrender her secrets tohim. In her straits, duringhis first experience withthe Land, he had losthimself so badly—Heclosedhiseyes,gropedforcourage. Then he sighed,“Don’t worry about it.

They’re not going to killus.”“Naturally not.” Her

tone was vicious. “You’reThomas Covenant,Unbelieverandwhitegoldwielder.Theywon’tdare.”Her scornhurthim;but

he made an effort tosuppress his anger. “We’llgetoutofheretonight.”“How?” she demanded

bluntly.

“Tonight”—hecouldnotsilencehisweariness—“I’lltrytoshowSunderwhyheoughttoletusgo.”A moment later,

someonepushedtwolargestoneware bowls of waterpast the curtain. Lindenreacted to them as if theywere the only explicablethings in the room. Sheshuttled toward them onher knees, lowered her

headtodrinkdeeply.When Covenant joined

her, she ordered him tousethebowlshehadused.He obeyed to avoid anargument; but her reasonsbecame clear when shetold him to put his handsin the still-full bowl. Thewater might reduce theirswelling,allowmorebloodpast the bonds—perhapseven loosen the bonds

themselves.Apparently his wrists

were tied with leather; ashe followed herinstructions, the cool fluidpalliated his discomfort;and a shortwhile later hefelta tingleof recovery inhis palms. He tried tothankherwithasmile;butshedidnotrespond.Whenheleft thewater,shetookhis place, soaked her own

handsforalongtime.Gradually Covenant’s

attention drifted awayfrom her. The sun wasbeginning to slant towardafternoon; a bright hotsliverof lightdissectedbyiron bars lay on the floor.He rested his head, andthought about theSunstone.Orcrest—a stone of

power.Theformermasters

of stone-lore had usedorcrest to wield theEarthpowerinavarietyofways—toshedlight,breakdroughts, test truth. IfSunder’s Sunstone wereindeedorcrest—Butwhat if itwerenot?Covenant returned to thedread which had struckhim in Nassic’s hut. Theworld is notwhat itwas. Iftherewere no Earthpower

—Something broken. Hecould not deny hisanguish.Heneededorcrest,needed its power; he hadto have a trigger. He hadneverbeenable tocallupwild magic of his ownvolition.Even in thecrisisof his final confrontationwith the Despiser, hewould have been lostutterlywithoutthecatalyst

oftheIllearthStone.IftheSunstone were not trulyorcrest—Hewishedthathecould

feel his ring; but even ifhis hands had not beenbound, his fingers wouldhave been too numb.Leper, he muttered. Makeit work. Make it. Thesunlight became a whitecynosure, growing until itthrobbed like the pain in

his head. Slowly hismindfilled with a brightnessmore fearsome andpunishing than any night.Heopposeditasifhewereafragmentofthelastkinddark which healed andrenewed.ThenLindenwassaying,

“Covenant. You’ve sleptenough. It’s dangerous ifyou have a concussion.Covenant.”

The dazzle in his brainblinded him momentarily;hehadtosquinttoseethatthe roomwas dim. Sunsetfaintlycoloredtheair.Thesky beyond the windowlayintwilight.He felt stiff andgroggy,

asifhislifehadcongealedwithinhimwhileheslept.His pain had burrowedinto the bone; but it, too,seemed imprecise—

stupefied by fatigue. AtLinden’s urging, he drankthe remaining water. Itcleared his throat, butcouldnotuncloghismind.Foralongtime,theysat

without speaking. Nightfilled the valley like anexudation from themountains; the air turnedcool as the earth lost itswarmth to the clearheavens.At first, the stars

were as vivid as language—an articulation ofthemselves across thedistance and theunfathomable night. Butthen the sky lost itsdepthasthemoonrose.“Covenant,” Linden

breathed,“talktome.”Hervoicewasasfragileasice.She was near the limit ofherendurance.He searched for

somethingthatwouldhelpthemboth, fortifyherandfocushim.“Idon’twanttodie like

this,”shegrated.“Withoutevenknowingwhy.”He ached because he

could not explain why,could not give her hissense of purpose. But heknewa storywhichmighthelp her to understandwhatwasatstake.Perhaps

it was a story they bothneededtohear.“Allright,”he said quietly. “I’ll tellyou how this world cametobecreated.”She did not answer.

Afteramoment,hebegan.Even to himself, his

voice sounded bodiless, asif the dark were speakingfor him. He was trying toreach out to her withwords, though he could

not see her, and had noveryclearideaofwhoshewas.Histalewasasimpleone; but for him itssimplicitygrewoutoflongdistillation. It made evenhisdeadnervesyearnasifhe were moved by aneloquence he did notpossess.In the measureless

heavensoftheuniverse,hetold her, where life and

space were one, and theimmortals strode throughan ether withoutlimitation, the Creatorlookedabouthim,andhisheart swelled with thedesiretomakeanewthingto gladden his brightchildren. Summoning hisstrength and subtlety, heset about the work whichwashisexaltation.Firsthe forged theArch

ofTime,so that theworldhewished tomakewouldhave a place to be. Andthen within the Arch heformedtheEarth.Wieldingthe greatness of his loveand vision as tools, hemade the world in all itsbeauty, so that no eyecould behold it withoutjoy. And then upon theEarth he placed all themyriads of its inhabitants

—beings to perceive andcherish the beauty whichhe made. Striving forperfection because it wasthe nature of creation todesire all things flawless,hemadetheinhabitantsofthe Earth capable ofcreation, and striving, andlove for the world. Thenhewithdrewhishand,andbeheldwhathehaddone.Theretohisgreatirehe

saw that evil lay in theEarth: malice buried andabroad, banes and powerswhich had no part in hisintent. For while he hadlabored over his creation,hehadclosedhiseyes,andhadnotseen theDespiser,thebittersonorbrotherofhis heart, laboring besidehim—casting dross intothe forge, addingmalignancytohisintent.

ThentheCreator’swrathshooktheheavens,andhegrappled with the son orbrother of his heart. Heoverthrew the Despiserand hurled him to theEarth, sealing him withinthe Arch of Time for hispunishment. Thus itbecamefortheinhabitantsoftheEarthasitwaswiththeCreator;forinthatacthe harmed the tiling he

loved, and so all livinghearts were taught thepower of self-despite. TheDespiserwasabroadintheEarth, awakening ills,seeking to escape hisprison. And the Creatorcould not hinder him, forthe reachofany immortalhand through the Archwould topple Time,destroying the Earth andfreeing the Despiser. This

was the great grief of theCreator, and the unendingflaw and sorrow of thosewholivedandstroveupontheEarth.Covenant fell silent.

Telling this story,essentiallyashehadheardit ten years ago, broughtback many things to him.He no longer felt blurredand ossified. Now he feltlike the night, and his

memories were stars:Mhoram, Foamfollower,Bannor, the Ranyhyn.Whilehestillhadbloodinhis veins, air in his lungs,hewouldnotturnhisbackon the world which hadgivenbirthtosuchpeople.Linden started to ask a

question; but the rustlingof the curtain interruptedher. Sunder entered theroomcarryinganoillamp.

He set it on the floor andseatedhimselfcross-leggedin front of it. Its dim,yellow light cast haggardshadowsacrosshis visage.When he spoke, his voicewore ashes, as if he hadbeenbereaved.“I, too, have heard that

tale,” he said thickly. “Itwas told to me by Nassicmyfather.Butthetaletoldin the Rede of the na-

Mhoram is anotheraltogether.”Covenant and Linden

waited. After a moment,the Graveler went on. “IntheRedeitistoldthattheEarthwas formedasa jailand tormenting-place forthe Lord of wickedness—him whom we name a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.And life was placed uponthe Earth—men and

women,andallotherraces—to wreak upon a-Jerothhisproperdoom.Buttimeand again, throughout theages,theracesoftheLandfailed their purpose.Rather than exacting painfrom a-Jeroth, meting outuponhimtheMaster’sjustretribution, they formedalliances with the Lord,spared him in hisweakness and bowed to

him in his strength. Andalways”—Sunder shot aglance at Covenant,faltered momentarily—“the most heinous ofthese betrayals have beenwrought by men born inthe image of the FirstBetrayer, Berek, father ofcowardice. Halfhandedmen.“Therefore in his wrath

theMaster turnedhis face

fromtheLand.HesenttheSunbane upon us, aschastisementfortreachery,so that we wouldremember our mortality,and become worthy againto servehis purpose.Onlythe intercession of theClave enables us toendure.”Protests thronged inCovenant. He knew fromexperience that this

conception of the Landwas false and cruel. Butbefore he could try toreply, Linden climbedsuddenly to her feet. Hereyes were feverish in thelamplight,afflictedbyfearand outrage and waiting.Her lips trembled. “AMasterlikethatisn’tworthbelieving in. But youprobably have to do itanyway.Howelsecanyou

justify killing people youdon’tevenknow?”The Graveler surged

erect,facedherextremely.The conflict in him madehim grind his teeth. “Allthe Land knows the truthwhichtheClaveteaches.Itismanifest at every risingof the sun. None deny itbutNassicmyfather,whodied in mind before hisbody was slain, and you,

whoareignorant!”Covenant remained on

the floor. While Lindenand Sunder confrontedeachother,hedrewallthestrands of himselftogether, braided anger,empathy, determination,memory tomake the cordon which all their livesdepended.Partofhimbledto think of the hurt hemeanttoinflictonSunder,

the choice he meant toextort; part raged at thebrutalitywhichhadtaughtpeoplelikeSundertothinkof their own lives aspunishment for a crimethey could not havecommitted; part quaveredin fear at the idea offailure, at the poverty ofhis grasponpower.WhenLinden began to retort tothe Graveler, he stopped

her with, a wrench of hishead.I’lldoit,hethoughtsilently toher. If it has tobe done. Shifting his gazeto Sunder, he asked,“How’syourmother?”A spasm contorted the

Graveler’s face; his handsbunchedintoknotsofpainand uselessness, “Herdeath is plain.” His eyeswere dull, wounded,articulating the frank

torment of his heart. “Imust shed her blood withyoursatthesun’srising.”Covenant bowed his

headforamomentintacitacknowledgment. Then,deliberately, he created aspace of clarity withinhimself, set his questionsand fears aside. All right,hemurmured.Leper.Ithastobedone.Takingadeepbreath,he

rose to his feet, faced theStonedownor.“Sunder,”hesaid softly,

“doyouhaveaknife?”The Graveler nodded as

if the question had nomeaning.“Takeitout.”Slowly Sunder obeyed.

He reached to his back,slippedalongironponiardoutofhisbelt.His fingersheld it as if they had no

ideahowtouseit.“I want you to see that

you’re safe,” Covenantsaid. “You have a knife.Myhands are tied. I can’thurtyou.”Sunder stared back at

Covenant, transfixed byincomprehension.All right, Covenant

breathed. Leper. Do itnow.Hisheartbeatseemedtofillhischest,leavingno

room for air. But he didnotwaver.“Get out that piece of

orcrest.TheSunstone.”Again Sunder obeyed.

Covenant’swillheldhim.Covenantdidnotpermit

himself to glance down atthe stone. He wasmarginally aware thatLinden regarded him as ifhewereno longersane.Ashudder of apprehension

threatened his clarity. Hehad to grit his teeth tokeep his voice steady,“Touchmewithit.”“Touch—?” Sunder

murmuredblankly.“Touchmyforehead.”Doubt pinched the

corners of Sunder’s eyes.His shoulders hunched ashe tightened his grip ontheknife,theSunstone.Doit.

The Graveler’s handseemed to move withoutvolition.TheorcrestpassedCovenant’s face, came torest cool and possibleagainsthistensebrow.His attention droppedthrough him to his ring,seeking for the linkbetweenorcrest and whitegold. He rememberedstanding in sunlight anddesperation on the slopes

ofMountThunder;hesawBannor take his hand,place his ring in contactwith the Staff of Law. Atrigger. He felt thedetonationofpower.Youarethewhitegold.The silence in the roomvibrated.Hislipsstretchedback from his teeth. Hesqueezed his eyes shutagainstthestrain.Atrigger.

He did notwant to die,did not want the Land todie.LordFoulabhorredalllife.Fiercely he brought the

orcrest and thewhite goldtogetherinhismind,chosepower.Aburstofargentsprang

offhisforehead.Lindenletoutastricken

gasp. Sunder snatchedback theorcrest. A gust of

forceblewoutthelamp.Then Covenant’s hands

were free. Ignoring thesuddenmagmaofrenewedcirculation, he raised hisarms in front of him,openedhiseyes.His hands blazed the

colorof the fullmoon.Hecould feel the passion ofthe fire,but itdidhimnoharm.The flames on his left

swiftlyfaded,died.Buthisright hand grew brighterastheblazefocusedonhisring, burning without asound.Linden stared at him

whitely, wildly. Sunder’seyesechoedtheargentfirelikea revelation tooacutetobear.You are stubborn yet.

Yes!Covenantpanted.Youdon’t begin to know how

stubborn.With a thought, he

struck the bonds fromLinden’s wrists. Then hereachedfortheSunstone.As he took it from

Sunder’sstunnedfingers,apiercing white lightexplodedfromthestone.Itshone like a sun in thesmallroom.Lindenduckedher head. Sunder coveredhiseyeswithhisfreearm,

waved his poniarduncertainly.“Wild magic,” Covenant

said. His voice felt likeflame in his mouth. Thereturnofbloodtohisarmsraked his nerves likeclaws. “Your knife meansnothing. I have the wildmagic. I’mnotthreateningyou. I don’t want to hurtanybody.” The night hadbecome cold, yet sweat

streamed down his face.“That’s not why I’m here.ButIwon’tletyoukillus.”“Father!” Sunder cried

in dismay. “Was it true?Was every,word that youspokeawordoftruth?”Covenantsagged.Hefelt

that he had accomplishedhispurpose;andatonceawave of fatigue brokethrough him. “Here.” Hisvoice was hoarse with

strain.“Takeit.”“Take—?”“The Sunstone. It’s

yours.”Torn by this vision of

power as if it turned theworld he had alwaysknown to chaos, Sunderstretched out his hand,touched the bright orcrest.Whenitslightdidnotburnhim, he closed his fingerson it as if it were an

anchor.With a groan, Covenant

released the wild magic.Instantly the firewentoutas if he had severed itfrom his hand. TheSunstone wasextinguished; the roomplungedintomidnight.He leaned back against

the wall, hugged hispounding arms across hischest. Flares danced along

his sight, turning slowlyfromwhite to orange andred.Hefeltexhausted;buthe could not rest. He hadsilenced his power so thattheGravelerwouldhaveachancetorefusehim.Nowhehadtomeetthecostofhis risk. Roughly, heforced out words. “I wantto get away from here.Before anything elsehappens.BeforethatRaver

triessomethingworse.Butwe need help. A guide.Somebodywho knows theSunbane.Wecan’t survivealone.Iwantyou.”From out of thedarkness,Sunderansweredas if he were foundering,“I am the Graveler ofMithil Stonedown. Mypeople hold me in theirfaith. How shall I betraymyhometoaidyou?”

“Sunder,” Covenantreplied, striving to conveythe extremity of hisconviction,“IwanttohelptheLand.Iwanttosaveitall. Including MithilStonedown.”For a longmoment, theGraveler was silent.Covenant clinched hischest, did not allowhimselftobegforSunder’said;buthisheartbeatover

and over again, Please; Ineedyou.Abruptly Linden spoke

in a tone of startlingpassion. “You shouldn’thave to kill your ownmother.”Sunder took a deep

quiveringbreath.“Idonotwishtoshedherblood.Oryours. May my peopleforgiveme.”Covenant’s head swam

with relief. He hardlyheard himself say, “Thenlet’sgetstarted.”

SEVEN:Marid

Foramoment,therewassilence in the small room.Sunderremainedstill,asifhe could not force hisreluctant bones to act onhis decision. Out of thedarkness, he breathedthickly, “ThomasCovenant, do not betrayme.”Before Covenant could

try to reply, the Gravelerturned, eased the curtainaside.Through the entryway,Covenant saw moonlightin the open center of theStonedown. Quietly heasked, “What aboutguards?”“There are none here.”Sunder’s voicewas a rigidwhisper.“Lives tobeshedareleftinthechargeofthe

Graveler. It is fitting thatone who will commitsacrifice should keep vigilwith those whose bloodwill be shed. TheStonedownsleeps.”Covenant clenched

himself against his fatigueand the Graveler’s tone.“What about outside thevillage?”“Those guards we must

evade.”

Grimly Sunder slippedoutoftheroom.Linden began to followthe Stonedownor. But atCovenant’s side shestopped, said softly, “Doyou trusthim?Healreadyregretsthis.”“I know,” Covenantresponded. In the back ofhis mind, he cursed theacuity of her hearing. “Iwouldn’t trust anybody

who didn’t regret adecisionlikethis.”She hesitated for a

moment. She saidbitterly,“I don’t think regret issuch a virtue.” Then shelet herself out into thenight.He stood still, blinking

wearilyatthedark.Hefeltwanwith hunger; and thethoughtofwhat layaheadsapped the little strength

remainingtohim.Linden’sseverity hurt him. Wherehad she learned to denyherself the simplehumanityofregret?But he had no time for

such things. His need toescape was absolute.Woodenly he followed hiscompanions out of theroom.After the blackness

behind him, the moon

seemedbright.SunderandLinden were distinct andvulnerableagainstthepalewalls of the houses,waiting for him.When hejoined them, the Gravelerturned northwardimmediately, beganmoving with barefootsilence between thedwellings. Lindenshadowed him; andCovenant stayed within

arm’sreachofherback.Astheynearedtheouter

houses, Sunder stopped.He signed for Covenantand Linden to remainwhere they were. WhenCovenant nodded, Sundercrept away back into theStonedown.Covenanttriedtomuffle

hisrespiration.Athisside,Lindenstoodwithherfistsclenched. Her lips moved

soundlessly as if shewerearguingwithherfear.Thenight was chilly;Covenant’s anxiety left acold trail down the smallofhisback.ShortlySunderreturned,

bearing a dark oblong thesize of a papaya.“Mirkfruit,” he whispered.At once, he moved offagain.Like spectres, the three

of them left MithilStonedown.From the last houses,

Sunder picked his waytoward the valley bottom.He traveled in a hah5crouch, reducing hissilhouette as much aspossible. Linden followedhisexample;sheseemedtoflit through themoonlightas if she had been bornsure-footed.But

Covenant’s toes werenumb, and his legs weretired. He stumbled overtheunevenground.Abruptly Sunder braced

his hands on a rock,vaulteddownintothelonghollowoftheriverbed.Linden jumped after

him. Sand absorbed herlanding.Swiftly,shejoinedSunder in the shadowunderthebank.

Covenant hesitated onthe edge. Lookingdownward, he becamesuddenly queasy withvertigo. He turned hishead away. The barrenlength of the watercoursestretchedserpentineoutofthe mountains on his lefttowardtheSouthPlainsonhisright.Last night, the Mithil

River had been full to

overflowing.“Come!” whisperedSunder. “You will beseen.”Covenant jumped. Helanded crookedly,sprawledinthesand.Inaninstant,Sunderreachedhisside,urgedhimtohisfeet.He ignored the Graveler.Hedughis hands into thesand,gropingformoisture.But even below the

surface, the sand wascompletely dry. His handsraiseddust thatmadehimgagtostifleacough.Impossible!The riverbed was as

desiccatedasadesert.Hadthe Law itself becomemeaningless?“Covenant!” Linden

hissed.Sunder tugged at his

shoulders.Fightingdowna

rush of blind rage,Covenant pulled his legsunder him, stumbled intotheshadowofthebank.Amoment passed before heregained himself enoughto look outward, awayfromhisdismay.Sunder pointed

downriver, toward theblackarcofabridgeafewhundred feet away. “Oneguard,” he breathed. “The

others can no longerdescry us. But him wecannotpassunseen.”“What are we going to

do?”whisperedLinden.The Graveler motioned

for silence. Hefting hismirkfruit, he crept awayalong the course, stayingcarefullyunder theshelterofthebank.Linden and Covenant

followed.

Theirprogresswasslow.The river bottom waslittered with rocks andunexpected holes,especially near the banks;Covenanthadtowatchhisfooting. Yet his gaze wasdrawntowardthebridge—the ominous black spanblocking their way like agate. He had crossed thatbridge with Lena. AndwithAtiaran.Thememory

madehisheartsquirm.Hecaughtnoglimpseof

the guard. The man musthave been hiding behindtheparapetsofthespan.Thentheydrewnearthe

bridge, made their wayunderit.CovenantheldhisbreathasSundermovedtothe riverbank. TheGraveler climbed withacutecaution;heeasedhisway upward as if every

pebbleandhandfulofdirtwere treacherous. Slowlyhedisappearedaroundthebaseofthebridge.Suspenseshiveredinthe

air as if the night wereabout to shatter.Covenant’s lungs knotted,demanding relief. Lindenhuddledintoherself.Theyheardasoftthud—

the impact of Sunder’smirkfruit—followed by a

groan, and the sound of abody falling on the stoneovertheirheads.The Graveler droppedwithalacritybackintotheriverbed. “Now we mustmake haste,” he warned,“before another comes toward in his place.” Hesoundedangry.Turningonhisheel,hestrodeawayasifwhathehadjustdonetosomeonehehadknownall

his life wereunsupportable.He set a stiff pace.Covenant and Linden hadto hurry to keep up withhim.Moonlight gave thenightacrisppatinaofoldsilver, as if the darknessitselfwereaworkof fine-spun craft. Stars winkedlikeinstancesofperfectionabove the rims of the

mountains, which roserugged into theunattainable heavens oneither side. While hisstrength held, Covenanttook pleasure in thisopportunity to recover thetangible loveliness of theLand.But as the moon

declined toward setting,andthespurofmountainsonhisleftbegantoshrink,

his momentum faltered.He was too weak. Hisheart limpedas if it couldnot keepupwithhim;hismusclesfeltlikesand.Andescape was not enough;there was something elsehehadtodoaswell.Witha dry croak, he calledSunder to a halt. Then hedropped to the ground,stretched out on his back,andsuckedair.

Linden stopped nearby,winded but still capable.And Sunder stood erectand impatient; he wastough as well as strong,inured to fatigue by alifetime of difficultsurvival. The little he hadseenandheardhadtaughtCovenantthatlifeinMithilStonedown was arduousand costly.Whyelsewerethese villagers willing to

sacrificetheirownparents—willing to condemnstrangers and innocents todeath? It was intolerable,that thebountifulLandhelovedhadcometothis.He was still huntingfortitudewhenSundersaidstiffly, “Here we are safeenough until the sun’srising—at least while ourabsence remainsundiscovered in the

Stonedown. But it availsnothing merely to abidehere, awaiting chance ordoom. The Rider whoapproaches MithilStonedown may comeupon us. He will surelypursuewhen he is told ofourflight.Youhaveaskedme to guide you. ThomasCovenant, where will yougo?”Groaning, Covenant

priedhimselfintoasittingposition. “First thingsfirst.” He had learnedenough to be sure Sunderwould not like the largeranswertothatquestion.Sohe concentrated on hisimmediate purpose. “FirstIwanttofindMarid.”“Marid?” The Gravelergaped. “Did I not tell youthe judgment of theStonedown? He is

condemned by ancientRede and custom to themercy of the Sunbane. Ithasalreadybeendone.”“I know,” Covenantmuttered. “You told me.And I told you. He’sinnocent.”“Guilt or innocence,”retorted Sunder, “it availsnothing. It has alreadybeen done! The men andwomen entrusted with his

doom returned before Icametospeakwithyou.”Weariness eroded

Covenant’s self-mastery.He could hardly restrainhisoldrage.“Whatexactlydidtheydotohim?”Sunder cast a look of

exasperation at the stars.“They bore him into thePlains,andlefthimhoundtoawaithisjudgment.”“Do you know where

theylefthim?”“Somewhat. They spoke

of their intent beforedeparting. I was notamongthemtobeholdtheveryspot.”“That’s good enough.”

Covenant felt as weak aswater; but he climbed tohis feet and faced theGraveler.“Takeusthere.”“There is not time!”

Sunder’s visage was a

tangle of darkness. “Thedistance is too great. Wemust find protection, lestwe also fall prey to thesun’srising.”“But Marid is innocent.”Covenant soundedwild tohimself, but did not care.“The only reason thatRaver used him wasbecause of us. I’m notgoing to let him bepunished.Goddamnit.”He

grabbed roughly atSunder’sjerkin.“Guideus!I’vegottoomuchbloodonmyhandsalready.”In a low strained tone,as if he had just glimpsedsome crucial andfrightening truth, theGravelersaid,“YoudonotunderstandtheSunbane.”“Then explain it. Whatareyousoafraidof?”“We will suffer Marid’s

doom!”From behind Sunder,

Lindensaid,“Hemeansit.Hethinkssomethingawfulis going to happen whenthesuncomesup.”Withaneffort,Covenant

forced himself to releaseSunder. He faced Linden,bit down on his voice tokeep it quiet. “What doyouthink?”She was silent for a

moment. Then she saidharshly, “I didn’t believeyou when you said Joanwas possessed. But I sawthat Raver myself. I sawMarid afterward. TheRaver was gone.” Shecarved each worddistinctly in the night air.“If you want to stay withSunder, I’ll go looking forMaridmyself.”“Heaven and Earth!”

protested Sunder. “Did Ibetraymyhomemerelysothatyoumaymeetruinforamanyoucannotsave?Ifyou place one foot amiss,youwillendinbeseechingthe stones themselves fordeath!”Covenantgazedintothe

darkness where Lindenstood, gathering strengthfromher.Softlyherepliedto Sunder, “He was your

friend.”“You are mad!” Sunderraged. “Nassic my fatherwasmad!”Hesnatchedupa stone, hurled it againsttheriverbank.“Iammad.”Then he whirled onCovenant. Angerhammered in his voice.“Very well. I will guideyou. But I will not”—hisfist hit at the night—“sufferthedestructionof

the Sunbane for any manorwoman,madorsane,”Wrenching himself intomotion, he turned andscrambled up out of theriverbed.Covenant remainedlookingtowardLinden.Hewanted to thank her forher support, herwillingness to risk herselfin the name of Marid’sinnocence. But she

brushed past him afterSunder. “Come on,” shesaid over her shoulder.“We’ve got to hurry.Whatever it is he’s afraidof, Idon’t think I’mgoingtolikeit.”He watched her whilesheclimbedthebank.Endin beseeching— He rubbedhis right hand across hischin, verified his ringagainst the stiff stubble of

his beard. Then hemarshaled his waningresources and struggled tofollowhiscompanions.On level ground, hefound himself in anentirely differentlandscape. Except for theraggedweal of theMithil,the Plains were nearlyfeatureless. They spreadnorthandwestasfarashecouldsee,markedonlyby

the faint undulations ofthe terrain—bare even ofshrubsorpilesofrock.Thelow moonlight gave theman appearance of ghostlysterility, as if they hadbeenweathered barren byagesofimplacablethirst.Sunder headed slightlyeast of north at a canter,roughly paralleling themountains which still layto the east. But Covenant

could not endure such apace. And he did notunderstand his guide’scompelling dread. Hecalled for Sunder to slowdown.TheGravelerspunonhisheel.“Thereisnottime.”“Then there’s no reasonfor us to wear ourselvesout.”Sunder spat a curse,started moving again. But

in spite of his almostfranticanxiety,hewentnofaster than a brisk walk.Sometimelater,themoonfellbelowthehorizon.Butthe scant lightof the starssufficed. The terrain wasnot difficult, and Sunderknew his way. Soon avague wash of gray fromtheeastbegantomaceratethenight.The paling of the

horizon agitated Sunder.Hesearchedtheearthnearhim while he walked,made digressions from hispathlikespurtsoffrighttostudy irregularities in theground. But he could notfind what he wanted.Withinhalfaleague,dawnhad become imminent.Urgently he facedCovenantandLinden.“Wemust find stone.Anyhard

rockfreeofsoil.Beforethesun’s rising.Search, ifyouvalue a hale life and acleandeath.”Covenant haltedwoodenly. Hissurroundings seemed toswayasiftheywereaboutto fall apart. He feltstunnedbyweariness.“There,” Linden said.Shewaspointingofftoherright.

He peered in thatdirection.Hecoulddiscernnothing. But he did nothavehereyes.Sunder gaped at her fora moment, then hastenedto investigate. With hishands, he explored thesurface.“Stone!” he hissed. “Itmay suffice.” At once, hejumped erect. “We muststand here. The stonewill

wardus.”Fatigue blurred

Covenant’ssight.Hecouldnot see the Gravelerclearly. Sunder’sapprehension made nosense to him. Sunrise wasonly moments away;luminescence cast thehorizon into stark relief.Was he supposed to beafraidofthesun?LindenaskedSunderthe

same question. “Do youthink the sun’s going tohurt us? That’s nonsense.Wespenthalfthemorningyesterday in that test ofsilence of yours, and theonly thing we sufferedfromwasprejudice.”“With stone underfoot!”fumed the Graveler. “It isthe first touch whichdestroys!Youdidnotmeetthe first touch of the

Sunbane unwarded bystone!”I don’t have time forthis,Covenantmutteredtohimself. The eyes of hismind saw Marid clearlyenough. Left to die in thesun.Unsteadilyhelurchedintomotionagain.“Fool!” Sunder shouted.“For you I betrayed mybornpeople!”Amoment later, Linden

joinedCovenant.“Find stone!” TheGraveler’spassionsoundedlike raw despair. “Youdestroy me! Must I slayyoualso?”Linden was silent for afew steps. Then shemurmured, “He believesit.”Aninnominatepangranthrough Covenant.Involuntarily he stopped.

He and Linden turned tofacetheeast.They squinted at thefirst fieryrimoftherisingsun.It flared red along theskyline; but the sun itselfworeanauraofbrown,asif it shone throughcerements of dust. Ittouched his face with dryheat.“Nothing,” Linden said

tightly. “I don’t feelanything.”He glanced back at

Sunder.TheGravelerstoodon his stone. His handshad covered his face, andhisshouldersshook.Becausehedidnotknow

what else to do, Covenantturned away, went rigidlyinsearchofMarid.Lindenstayedwithhim.

Hunger had abused her

face, giving her a sunkenaspect;andshecarriedherhead as if the injurybehind her ear still hurt.But her jaw was set,emphasizing the firm linesof her chin, and her lipswere pale with severity.She looked like a womanwhodidnotknowhowtofail. He braced himself onher determination, andkeptmoving.

Therisingofthesunhadaltered the ambience ofthe Plains. They had beensilver and bearable; nowthey became a hot andlifeless ruin.Nothinggrewor moved in the widewaste. The ground waspacked and baked until itwas as intractable as iron.Loose dirt turned to dust.The entire landscapeshimmered with heat like

the aftermath ofdestruction.Striving against the

stupefactionofhisfatigue,Covenant asked Linden totell him about theconditionoftheterrain.“It’swrong.”Shebitout

words as if the sightwereanobloquydirectedatherpersonally.“Itshouldn’tbelikethis.It’slikearunningsore. I keep expecting to

see it bleed. It isn’tsupposedtobelikethis.”Isn’tsupposedtobelikethis! he echoed. The Landhad become like Joan.Somethingbroken.The heat haze stung hiseyes.Hecouldnotseetheground except as a swathof pale ichor; he felt thathe was treading pain. Hisnumb feet stumbledhelplessly.

She caught his arm,steadied him. Clenchinghis old sorrow, he drewhimself upright. His voiceshook. “What’s causingit?”“I can’t tell,” she saidgrimly. “But it hassomething todowith thatring around the sun. Thesun itself”—her handsreleased him slowly—“seemsnatural.”

“Bloody hell,” hebreathed. “What has thatbastarddone?”Buthedidnotexpectan

answer. In spite of herpenetrating vision, Lindenknew less than he did.Deliberately he gavehimself a VSE. Then hewentonlookingforMarid.In his rue and pain, thethought of a man lyingboundat themercyof the

sunloomedastheoneideawhich made everythingelseabominable.Wearily, doggedly, heand Linden trudgedthrough the heat-leechedlandscape.Thedustcoatedhismouthwiththetasteoffailure; the glare lancedthrough his eyeballs. Ashisweaknessdeepened,hedrifted into a vaguedizziness. Only the

landmark of themountains, now east andsomewhat south of him,enabled him to keep hisdirection. The sun beatdown as if onto an anvil,hammering moisture andstrength out of him like asmith shaping futility. Hedid not know how hestayed on his feet. Attimes, he felt himselfwandering over the

colorless earth, throughthe haze, as if he were afragmentofthedesolation.He might havewandered past his goal;but Linden somehowretained more alertness.She tugged him to a stop,dragged his attention outof the slow eddying soporoftheheat.“Look.”His lips framed emptyquestions. For a moment,

he could not understandwhy he was no longermoving.“Look,” she repeated.Her voice was an aridcroak.They stood in a widebowl of dust. Cloudsbillowed from everyshuffleoftheirfeet.Beforethem, two wooden stakeshad been driven into theground. The stakes were

some distance apart, as iftheyhadbeensettosecurethe arms of a man lyingoutstretched. Tied to thestakeswereloopsofrope.Theloopswereintact.Abody’slengthfromthe

stakes were two holes inthe ground—the kind ofholes made by stakespounded in and thenpulledout.Covenant swallowed

dryly. “Marid.” The wordabradedhisthroat.“He got away,” Lindensaidhoarsely.Covenant’s legs folded.He sat down, coughingweakly at the dust heraised.Gotaway.Linden squatted in frontof him. The nearness ofherfaceforcedhimtolookat her. Her voice scrapedasifitwerefullofsand.“I

don’tknowhowhedid it,buthe’sbetteroffthanweare. This heat’s going tokillus.”His tongue fumbled. “Ihad to try. He wasinnocent.”Awkwardly she reachedout,wipedbeadsofuselesssweat from his forehead.“Youlookawful.”He peered at herthrough his exhaustion.

Dirt caked her lips andcheeks, collected in thelines on either side of hermouth. Sweat-trailsstreakedherface.Hereyeswereglazed.“Sodoyou.”“Then we’d better do

something about it.” Atremorerodedherefforttosound resolute. But shestood up, helped him tohis feet. “Let’s go back.

Maybe Sunder’s lookingforus.”He nodded. He hadforgottentheGraveler.ButwhenheandLindenturned to retrace theirway, they saw a figurecomingdarklythroughtheshimmer.He stopped, squinted.Mirage?Lindenstoodnearhim as if to prevent himfrom losing his balance.

Theywaited.The figure approacheduntil they recognizedSunder.He halted twenty pacesfromthem.In his right hand, hegripped his poniard. Thistime, he seemed perfectlyfamiliarwithitsuse.Covenant watched theGravelerdumbly, as if theknife had made them

strangers to each other.Linden’s hand touched awarningtohisarm.“Thomas Covenant.”

Sunder’s face looked likehot stone. “What is myname?”What—? Covenant

frownedattheinterveningheat.“Speak my name!” the

Graveler spat fiercely.“Donot compel me to slay

you.”Slay?Covenantmadean

efforttoreachthroughtheconfusion.“Sunder,” he croaked.

“Graveler of MithilStonedown. Holder of theSunstone.”Incomprehension

stretched Sunder’scountenance. “LindenAvery?” he askedfalteringly. “What is the

nameofmyfather?”“Was,”shesaidinaflattone. “His name wasNassic son of Jous. He’sdead.”Sunder gaped as ifCovenantandLindenweremiraculous. Then hedropped his hands to hissides. “Heaven and Earth!It is not possible. TheSunbane— Never have Ibeheld—” He shook his

headinastonishment,“Ah,you are a mystery! Howcan such things be? Doesone white ring alter theorderoflife?”“Sometimes,” Covenantmuttered.Hewastryingtofollow a fracturedsequence of memories.Everything he did was anunintentional assault onthe Graveler’spreconceptions.Hewanted

to ease Sunder with somekind of explanation. Theheat haze seemed to blurthe distinction betweenpast and present.Somethingabouthisboots—? He forced words pasthisparchedlips.“ThefirsttimeIwashere—”Boots—yes, that was it. DroolRockworm had been ableto locate him through thealientouchofhisbootson

the ground. “My boots.Her shoes. They don’tcome from the Land.Maybe that’s whatprotectedus.”Sunder grabbed at the

suggestion as if it were abenison. “Yes. It must beso. Flesh is flesh,susceptibletotheSunbane.But your footwear—it isunlike any I have seen.Surely you were shielded

atthesun’sfirsttouch,elseyou would have beenaltered beyond any powerto know me.” Then hisface darkened, “But couldyou not have told me? Ifeared—”Theclenchingofhis jaws describedeloquentlytheextremityofhisfear.“We didn’t know.”

Covenant wanted to liedown, close his eyes,

forget.“Wewerelucky.”Amoment passed before hefound the will to ask,“Marid—?”At once, Sunder puteverything else aside. Hewenttolookatthestakes,theholes.Afrownknottedhis forehead. “Fools,” hegrated. “Iwarned them toware such things. Nonecan foretell the Sunbane.Nowthereiseviluponthe

Plains.”“You mean,” askedLinden, “hedidn’t escape?Heisn’tsafe?”Inresponse,theGravelerrasped, “Did I not saythere was not time? Youhaveachievednothingbutyourownprostration. It isenough,” he went onstiffly. “I have followedyou to this useless end.Now you will accompany

me.”LindenstaredatSunder.

“Wherearewegoing?”“Tofindshelter,”hesaid

in a calmer tone. “Wecannotendurethissun.”Covenant gestured

eastward, toward a regionwith which he wasfamiliar.“Thehills—”Sunder shook his head.

“There is shelter in thehills. But to gain it we

must pass within scope ofWindshorn Stonedown.That is certain sacrifice—foranystranger,asfortheGraveler of MithilStonedown.Wegowest,totheMithilRiver.”Covenant could not

argue. Ignorance crippledhis ability to makedecisions. When Sundertook his arm and turnedhimawayfromthesun,he

began to scuffle stiffly outofthebowlofdust.Linden moved at his

side. Her stride wasunsteady; she seemeddangerously weak. Sunderwas stronger; but his eyeswere bleak, as if he couldsee disaster ahead. AndCovenant could barely lifthis feet. The sun, stillclimbing towardmidmorning, clung to his

shoulders, hag-riding him.Heat flushed back andforth across his skin—avitiating fever whichechoed the haze of thescorched earth. His eyesfelt raw from the scrapingofhiseyelids.Afteratime,he began to stumble as ifthe ligatures of his kneeswereparting.Thenhewasinthedirt,

with no idea of how he

had fallen. Sundersupported him so that hecould sit up. TheGraveler’s face was graywith dust; he, too, hadbegun to suffer. “ThomasCovenant,” he panted,“this is fatal to you. Youmusthavewater.Willyounot make use of yourwhitering?”Covenant’s respirationwas shallow and ragged.

Hestared into thehazeasifhehadgoneblind.“The white ring,”Sunderpleaded.“Youmustraisewater,lest,youdie.”Water. He pulled theshards of himself togetheraround that thought.Impossible. He could notconcentrate. Had neverused wild magic foranything exceptcontention. It was not a

panacea.BothSunder andLinden

werestudyinghimasifhewere responsible for theirhopes. They were failingalong with him. For theirsakes,hewouldhavebeenwilling to make theattempt. But it wasimpossible for otherreasonsaswell.Tortuouslyas if he had beendisjointed, he shifted

forward, got his kneesunderhim,thenhisfeet.“Ur-Lord!” protested the

Graveler.“I don’t,” Covenant

muttered, hall coughing,“don’t know how.” Hewanted to shout. “I’m aleper. I can’t see—can’tfeel—” The Earth wasclosedtohim;it layblankandmeaninglessunderhisfeet—a concatenation of

haze, nothing more. “Idon’t know how to reachit.” We need Earthpower.AndaLordtowieldit.There’s no Earthpower.

The Lords are gone. Hehad no words potentenough to convey hishelplessness.“Ijustcan’t.”Sunder groaned. But he

hesitated onlymomentarily. Then hesighed in resignation,

“Very well. Yet we musthave water.” He took outhis knife. “My strength isgreater than yours.PerhapsIamabletosparea little blood.” Grimly hedirected the blade towardthe mapwork of scars onhisleftforearm.Covenant lurched to trytostophim.Lindenwasquicker.Sheseized Sunder’s wrist.

“No!”The Graveler twistedfreeofher,grittedacutely,“Wemusthavewater.”“Notlikethat.”ThecutsonNassic’shandburnedinCovenant’s memory; herejected such powerinstinctively.“Doyouwishtodie?”“No.” Covenant upheldhimself by force of will.“But I’m not that

desperate. Not yet,anyway.”“Your knife isn’t even

clean,” added Linden. “Ifsepticemia set in, I’d havetoburnitout.”Sunder closed his eyes

asiftoshutoutwhattheyweresaying.“Iwilloutliveyou both under this sun.”His jawschewedhisvoiceintoabarrenwhisper.“Ah,my father,what have you

done to me? Is this theoutcome of all your maddevoir?”“Suit yourself,”

Covenant said brutally,tryingtokeepSunderfromdespair or rebellion. “Butat least have the decencyto wait until we’re tooweaktostopyou.”The Graveler’s eyes

burst open. He spat acurse. “Decency, is it?”he

grated. “You are swift tocast shame upon peoplewhose lives you do notcomprehend. Well, let ushastenthemomentwhenImay decently save you.”With a thrust of his arm,he pushed Covenant intomotion, then caught himaround the waist to keephim from falling, andbegan half dragging himwestward.

In a moment, Lindencame to Covenant’s otherside, shrugged his armoverher shoulders so thatshe could help supporthim. Braced in thatfashion, he was able totravel.But the sun was

remorseless. Slowly,ineluctably, it beat himtoward abjection. Bymidmorning, he was

hardly carrying a fractionof his ownweight. To hisburnedeyes,thehazesangthrenodies of prostration;motesofdarknessbegantoflitacrosshisvision.Fromtimetotime,hesawsmallclumps of night crouchingon the pale ground justbeyond clarity, as if theywerewaitingforhim.Then the earth seemedto riseup in frontofhim.

Sunder came to a halt.Linden almost fell; butCovenant clung to hersomehow. He fought tofocus his eyes. After amoment, he saw that therise was a shelf of rockjuttingwestward.Sunder tugged him andLinden forward. Theylimpedpastanotherclumplike a low bush, into theshadowoftherock.

The jut of the shelfformedanerodedleelargeenough to shelter severalpeople.Intheshadow,therock and dirt felt cool.Linden helped Sunderplace Covenant sittingagainst the balm of thestone.Covenanttriedtoliedown; but the Gravelerstopped him, and Lindenpanted, “Don’t. Youmightgotosleep.You’velosttoo

muchfluid,”Henoddedvaguely.The

coolnesswasonlyrelative,and he was febrile withthirst.Noamountofshadecouldanswertheunpityofthe sun. But the shadowitselfwasblisstohim,andhewascontent.Lindensatdown on one side of him;Sunder, on the other. Heclosedhiseyes,lethimselfdrift.

Some time later, hebecame conscious ofvoices. Linden and Sunderwere talking. Thehebetude of her tonebetrayed the difficulty ofstaying alert. Sunder’sresponses were distant, asif he found her inquiriespainfulbutcouldnotthinkofanywaytorefusethem.“Sunder,” she asked

dimly, “what is Mithil

Stonedown going to dowithoutyou?”“Linden Avery?” Heseemed not to understandherquestion.“Call me Linden. Aftertoday—”Hervoice trailedaway.He hesitated, then said,“Linden.”“You’re the Graveler.Whatwill theydowithoutaGraveler?”

“Ah.” Now he caughther meaning. “I signifylittle. The loss of theSunstone is of moreimport, yet even that losscan be overcome. TheStonedown is chary of itslore. My prentice is adeptinalltheriteswhichmustbe performed in theabsence of the Sunstone.Without doubt, he shedKalina my mother at the

sun’s rising. TheStonedown will endure.How otherwise could Ihave done what I havedone?”Afterapause,sheasked,

“You’renotmarried?”“No.”His replywas like

awince.Lindenseemedtoheara

widerangeofimplicationsin that one word. Quietlyshesaid,“Butyouwere.”

“Yes.”“Whathappened?”Sunder was silent at

first. But then he replied,“Among my people, onlythe Graveler is given thechoice of his own mate.The survival of theStonedown depends uponits children. Mating forchildren is not left to thehazard of affection orpreference. But by long

custom, the Graveler isgiven freedom. Asrecompensefortheburdenofhiswork.“Thechoiceofmyheart

felluponAimildaughterofAnest. Anest was sister toKalina my mother. Fromchildhood, Aimil and Iwere dear to each other.We were gladly wed, andgladly sought to vindicateour choosing with

children.“A son came to us, and

was given the nameNelbrin, which is ‘heart’schild.’ ” His tone was asastringent as the terrain.“He was a pale child, notgreatly well. But he grewasachildshouldgrowandwasatreasuretous.“For a score of turnings

of the moon he grew. Hewas slow in learning to

walk,andnotsteadyuponhis legs, but he came atlast to walk with glee.Until—” He swallowedconvulsively. “Until bymischance Aimil my wifeinjured him in our home.Sheturnedfromthehearthbearing a heavy pot, andNelbrin our son hadwalked to stand behindher. The pot struck himuponthechest.

“From that day, hesickened toward death. Adarkswellinggrewinhim,andhislifefaltered.”“Hemophilia,” Lindenbreathedalmostinaudibly.“Poorkid.”Sunder did not stop.“When his death waswritten upon his face forall to see, the Stonedowninvoked judgment. I wascommanded to sacrifice

him for the good of thepeople.”A rot gnawed at

Covenant’sguts.Helookedup at the Graveler. Thedryness in his throat feltlikeslowstrangulation.Heseemedtohearthegroundsizzling.Inprotest,Lindenasked,

“Your own son?What didyoudo?”Sunder stared out into

the Sunbane as if it werethe story of his life. “Icould not halt his death.Thedesertsunandthesunof pestilence had left ussorely in need. I shed hislifetoraisewaterandfoodfortheStonedown.”Oh, Sunder! Covenant

groaned.Tightly Linden

demanded, “How didAimilfeelaboutthat?”

“It maddened her. Shefoughttopreventme—andwhen she could not, shebecamewild in hermind.Despair afflicted her, andshe—” For a moment,Sunder could not summonthewordsheneeded.Thenhe went on harshly, “Shecommitted a mortal harmagainstherself.Sothatherdeath would not bealtogether meaningless, I

shedheralso.”So that her— Hellfire!Covenant understood nowwhythe thoughtofkillinghis mother had drivenSunder to abandon hishome. How many lovedones could aman bear tokill?Grimly Linden said, “Itwasn’t your fault.Youdidwhat you had to do.”Passion gathered in her

tone.“It’sthisSunbane.”The Graveler did notlook at her. “Allmen andwomen die. It signifiesnothing to complain.” Hesounded as sun-tormentedas the Plains. “What elsedo you desire to know ofme? You need only ask. Ihavenosecretsfromyou.”Covenant ached tocomfort Sunder; but heknew nothing about

comfort. Anger anddefiance were the onlyanswers he understood.Becausehe couldnot easethe Stonedownor, he triedto distract him. “Tell meabout Nassic.” The wordswere rough in his mouth.“Howdidhecometohaveason?”Linden glared at

Covenant as if she werevexed by his insensitivity;

butSunderrelaxedvisibly.Heseemedrelievedbythequestion—glad to escapethe futility of hismourning. “Nassic myfather,” he said, with awearinesswhich servedascalm, “was like Jous hisfather,andlikePrassanhisfather’s father. He was amanofMithilStonedown.“Joushis father lived in

the place he named his

temple, and from time totime Nassic visited Jous,out of respect for hisfather, and also toascertainthatnoharmhadbefallen him. TheStonedown wed Nassic toKalina, and they weretogetherasanyyoungmanandwoman.ButthenJousfell toward his death.Nassicwent to the templetobearhisfathertoMithil

Stonedown for sacrifice.He did not return. Dying,Jous placed his handsupon Nassic, and themadness or prophecy ofthe father passed into theson. Thus Nassic was losttotheStonedown.“This loss was sore to

Kalina my mother. Shewas ill content with justoneson.Manyatime,shewenttothetemple,togive

her love tomy father andto plead for his. Alwaysshe returned weeping andbarren. I fear—” Hepaused sadly. “I fear shehurled herself at Maridhopingtodie.”Gradually Covenant’sattention drifted. He wastoo weak to concentrate.Dimly he noted theshifting angle of the sun.Noon had come, laying

sunlight within inches ofhis feet. By midafternoon,the shade would be gone.Bymidafternoon—He could not survivemuch more of the sun’sdirectweight.The dark clump whichhe had passed near theshelf was still there.Apparently it was not amirage. He blinked at it,tryingtomakeoutdetails.

Ifnotamirage,thenwhat?Abush?Whatkindofbushcould endure this sun,when every other form oflife had been burnedaway?The question raised

echoesinhismemory,buthe could not hear themclearly. Exhaustion andthirstdeafenedhismind.“Die?”He was hardly aware

that he had spoken aloud.His voice felt like sandrubbing against stone.Whatkind—?Hestrovetofocus his eyes. “Thatbush.” He nodded weaklytoward the patch ofdarkness.“Whatisit?”Sunder squinted. “It is

aliantha. Such bushesmaybefoundinanyplace,butthey are most commonnear the River. In some

way, they defy theSunbane.” He dismissedthe subject. “They are amostdeadlypoison.”“Poison?” Pain sliced

Covenant’s lips; thevehemence of his outcrysplit them.Bloodbegantorunthroughthedustlikeatrail of fury cleaving hischin.Notaliantha!The Graveler reached

toward Covenant’s face as

if those dirty red dropswereprecious.Empoweredby memories, CovenantstruckSunder’shandaside.“Poison?” he croaked. Intimes past, the rarealiment of aliantha hadsustained him more oftenthan he could recollect. Ifthey had become poison—!Hewasabruptlygiddywith violence. If they hadbecome poison, then the

Land had not simply lostits Earthpower. TheEarthpower had beencorrupted! He wanted tobatter Sunder with hisfists.“Howdoyouknow?”Linden caught at hisshoulder.“Covenant!”“It is contained in theRede of the na-Mhoram,”rasped Sunder. “I am aGraveler—itismyworktomake use of that

knowledge.Iknowittobetrue.”No! Covenant grated.

“Haveyoutriedit?”Sunder gaped at him.

“No.”“Do you know anybody

whoevertriedit?”“Itispoison!Nomanor

womanwillinglyconsumespoison.”“Hell and blood.”

Bracing himself on the

stone,Covenantheaved tohisfeet.“Idon’tbelieveit.Hecan’tdestroytheentireLaw. If he did, the Landwouldn’texistanymore.”The Graveler sprang

erect, gripped Covenant’sarms, shook him fiercely.“Itispoison.”Mustering all his

passion, Covenantresponded,“No!”Sunder’s visage knurled

asifonlytheclenchofhismuscles kept him fromexploding. With onewrench of his hands, hethrust Covenant to theground. “You are mad.”His voice was iron andbitterness. “You seducedme frommyhome,askingmyaid—but at every turnyou defy me. You mustseek for Marid. Madness!Youmust refuse all safety

against the Sunbane.Madness!Youmustdeclineto raise water, nor permitme to raise it. Madness!Now nothing will contentyou but poison.” WhenCovenant tried to rise,Sunder shoved him back.“It is enough. Make anyfurtherattempttowardthealiantha, and I will strikeyousenseless.”Covenant’s gaze raged

up at the Graveler; butSunder did not flinch.Desperation inuredhim tocontradiction; he wastrying to reclaim somecontroloverhisdoom.Holding Sunder’s rigidstare,Covenantclimbedtohis feet, stood swayingbefore the Graveler.Linden was erect behindSunder; but Covenant didnot look at her. Softly he

said,“Idonotbelievethataliantha is poisonous.”Thenheturned,andbeganto shamble toward thebush.A howl burst fromSunder. Covenant tried tododge;butSundercrashedintohimheadlong,carriedhim sprawling to the dirt.Ablowon thebackofhishead sent lights acrosshisvision like fragments of

vertigo.Then Sunder fell away.

Covenant levered his legsunder him, to see LindenstandingovertheGraveler.She held him in a thumb-lockwhichpressedhimtotheground.Covenant stumbled to

thebush.His head reeled. He fell

tohisknees.Thebushwaspale with dust and bore

little resemblance to thedark green-and-viridianplant he remembered. Butthe leaves were holly-likeand firm, though few.Three small fruit the sizeofblueberriesclungtothebranchesindefianceoftheSunbane.Trembling he plucked

one, wiped the dust awayto see the berry’s truecolor.

Attheedgeofhissight,he saw Sunder knockLinden’s feet away, breakfreeofher.Gritting his courage,

Covenant put the berry inhismouth.“Covenant!” Sunder

cried.The world spun wildly,

then sprang straight. Cooljuice filled Covenant’smouth with a savor of

peach made tangy by saltand lime. At once, newenergy burst through him.Deliciousness cleansed histhroat of dirt and thirstand blood. All his nervesthrilled to a savor he hadnot tasted for ten longyears: the quintessentialnectaroftheLand.SunderandLindenwereon their feet, staring athim.

Asoundlikedrysobbingcame from him. His sightwas a blur of relief andgratitude. The seeddroppedfromhislips.“Oh,dear God,” he murmuredbrokenly. “There’sEarthpoweryet.”Amoment later, Lindenreached him. She helpedhimtohisfeet,peeredintohis face. “Areyou—?” shebegan, then stopped

herself. “No, you’re allright.Better. Icanalreadysee the difference. How—?”He could not stop

shaking.Hewantedtohugher; but he only allowedhimselftotouchhercheek,lift a strand of hair awayfrom her mouth. Then, toanswer her, thank her, hepluckedanotherberry,andgaveittoher.

“Eat—”She held it gently,

looked at it. Sudden tearsoverflowed her eyes. Herlower lip trembled as shewhispered, “It’s the firsthealthy—” Her voicecaught.“Eat it,” he urged

thickly.She raised it to her

mouth.Herteethclosedonit.

Slowlyalookofwonderspread over hercountenance. Her posturestraightened; she began tosmilelikeacooldawn.Covenant nodded to tell

her that he understood.“Spit out the seed.Maybeanotheronewillgrow.”Shetooktheseedinher

hand, gazed at it for amoment as if it had beensanctified before she

tossedittotheground.Sunder had not moved.

He stood with his armsclamped across his chest.Hiseyesweredullwiththehorrorofwatchinghis lifebecomefalse.Carefully Covenant

picked the last berry. Hisstridewasalmoststeadyashe went to Sunder, Hisheartsang:Earthpower!“Sunder,” he said, half

insisting, half pleading,“thisisaliantha.Theyusedto be called treasure-berries—the gift of theEarth to anybody whosuffered from hunger orneed. This is what theLandwaslike.”Sunder did not respond.The glazing of his gazewascomplete.“It’snotpoison,”Lindensaid clearly, “It’s immune

totheSunbane.”“Eat it,” Covenant

urged. “This is why we’rehere. What we want toaccomplish. Health.Earthpower.Eatit.”With a painful effort,

Sunder dredged up hisanswer. “I do not wish totrustyou.”Hisvoicewasawilderland. “You violateall my life. When I havelearned that aliantha are

not poison, you will seekto teach me that theSunbane does not exist—thatallthelifeoftheLandthroughallthegenerationshashadnomeaning.Thatthe shedding I have doneisnolessthanmurder.”Heswallowed harshly. “But Imust. I must find sometruth to take the place ofthetruthyoudestroy.”Abruptly he took the

berry,putitinhismouth.For a moment, his soulwasnaked inhis face.Hisinitialanticipationofharmbecame involuntarydelight; his inner worldstruggledtoalteritself.Hishands quavered when hetook the seed from hismouth. “Heaven andEarth!” he breathed. Hisawe was as exquisite asanguish. “Covenant—”His

jawworkedtoformwords.“IsthistrulytheLand—theLand of which my fatherdreamed?”“Yes.”“Thenhewasmad.”One

deep spasmof grief shookSunder before he tuggedback about him thetattered garment of hisself-command. “I mustlearntobelikewisemad.”Turning away, he went

back to the shelf of rock,seated himself in theshade, and covered hisfacewithhishands.To give Sunder’s

disorientation at least adegree of privacy,Covenant shifted hisattention to Linden. Thenew lightness of herexpressionamelioratedherhabitual severity, liftedsome of her beauty out

from under the streakeddust on her face. “Thankyou.”Hebegantosay,Fortrying to save my life.Back there in the woods.But he did not want toremember that blow.Instead he said, “Forgetting Sunder off me.” Ididn’t know you trustedmethatmuch.“Wheredidyou learn that thumb-hold?”

“Oh,that.”Hergrinwashalf grimness, halfamusement. “The medschool I went to was in apretty roughneighborhood. Thesecurity guards gave self-defenselessons.”Covenant found himself

wonderinghowlongithadbeen since a woman hadlast smiled at him. Beforehecouldreply,sheglanced

upward. “We ought to getout of the sun. Onetreasure-berry apiece isn’tgoing to keep us goingverylong.”“True.”Thealianthahad

blunted his hunger, easedhis body’s yearning forwater, restored a measureof life to his muscles. Butit could not make himimpervious to the sun.Around him, the Plains

swam with heat as if thefabric of the ground werebeingbleachedaway fiberby fiber. He rubbedabsent-mindedly at theblood on his chin, startedtowardSunder.Linden halted him.

“Covenant.”He turned. She stood

facingeastward,backoverthe shelf of rock. Bothhandsshadedhereyes.

“Something’scoming.”Sunder joined them;

together, they squintedinto the haze. “What thehell—?” Covenantmuttered.At first he saw nothing

butheatandpaledirt.Butthen he glimpsed an erectfigure, shimmering darklyinandoutofsight.Thefiguregrewsteadier

asitapproached.Slowly,it

became solid,transubstantiating itselflike an avatar of theSunbane.Itwasaman.Hewore the apparel of aStonedownor.“Who—?”“Oh, my God!” Linden

gasped.Themancamecloser.Sunderspat,“Marid!”Marid? An abrupt

weakness struck

Covenant’sknees.TheSunbanewillhaveno

mercy—The man had Marid’s

eyes, chancrous with self-loathing, mutesupplication, lust. He stillworestakestiedtoeachofhis ankles. His gait was ashambling of eagernessanddread.He was a monster.

Scales covered the lower

half of his face; bothmouth and nose weregone. And his arms weresnakes. Thick scale-cladbodies writhed from hisshoulders; serpent-headsgapedwherehishandshadbeen,brandishing fangsaswhite as bone. His chestheaved for air, and thesnakeshissed.Hellfire.Linden stared at Marid.

Nausea distorted hermouth.Shewasparalyzed,hardlybreathing.ThesightofMarid’s inflicted ill refther of thought, courage,motion.“Ah,Marid, my friend,”Sunder whisperedmiserably. “This is theretributionoftheSunbane,whichnonecanforetell. Ifyouwere innocent, as theur-Lord insists—” He

groaned in grief. “Forgiveme.”But an instant later his

voice hardened. “Avaunt,Marid!” he barked. “Wareus! Your life is forfeithere!”Marid’s gaze flinched as

if he understood; but hecontinued to advance,moving purposefullytowardtheshelfofrock.“Marid!” Sunder

snatched out his poniard.“I have guilt enough inyour doom. Do not thrustthisuponme.”Marid’s eyes shouted a

voiceless warning at theGraveler.Covenant’s throat felt

like sand; his lungslabored.Inthebackofhismind, a pulse of outragebeatlikelifeblood.Three steps to his side,

Linden stood frozen andappalled.Hissing voraciously,

Marid flunghimself intoarun. He sprinted to therock,uptheshelf.Foronesplinteroftime,

Covenant could notmove.He saw Marid launchhimself at Linden, sawfangs reaching toward herface,sawherstandingasifherhearthadstopped.

Her need snatchedCovenant into motion. Hetooktwodesperatestrides,crashed head andshoulders against her.They tumbled togetheracrosstheharddirt.Hedisentangledhimself,

flippedtohisfeet.Marid landed heavily,

rolling to get his legsunderhim.Wielding his knife,

Sunder attempted to closewithMarid.Butaflurryoffangsdrovehimback.At once, Marid rushed

towardLindenagain.Covenant met the

charge. He stopped oneserpentheadwithhisrightforearm, caught the otherscalybodyinhisleftfist.The free snake reared

backtostrike.In that instant, Sunder

reached into the struggle.Too swiftly for the snakesto react, he cut Marid’sthroat. Viscid fluidsplashed the front ofCovenant’sclothes.Sunderdroppedhisdead

friend. Blood poured intothedirt.Covenantrecoiledseveral steps. As she roseto her knees, Lindengagged as if she werebeing asphyxiated by the

Sunbane.The Graveler paid no

heedtohiscompanions.Afrenetic haste possessedhim. “Blood,” he panted.“Life.” He slapped hishands into the spreadingpool, rubbed themtogether,smearedredontohis forehead and cheeks.“At least your death willbe of some avail. It ismyguilt-gift.”

Covenant stared indismay.Hehadnotknownthat a human body couldbesolavishofblood.Snatching out the

Sunstone, Sunder bent hishead to Marid’s neck,suckedblooddirectlyfromthe cut. With the stoneheld in both palms, hespewed fluid onto it sothat it lay cupped inMarid’s rife. Then he

looked upward and beganto chant in a languageCovenant could notunderstand.Around him, the air

concentratedasiftheheattookpersonalnoticeofhisinvocation. Energyblossomedfromtheorcrest.A shaft of vermeil as

straight as the linebetween life and deathshot toward the sun. It

crackled like a dischargeof lightning; but it wassteady and palpable,sustainedbyblood.ItconsumedthebloodinSunder’s hands, drank theblood from Marid’s veins,leechedthebloodfromtheearth. Soon every trace ofred was gone. Marid’sthroat gaped like a drygrin.Stillchanting,Sunderset

down the Sunstone nearMarid’s head. The shaftbinding the orcrest to thesundidnotfalter.Almost at once, waterbubbled up around thestone. It gathered forceuntilitwasasmallspring,as fresh and clear as if itarose from mountain rockrather than from barrendust.As he watched,

Covenant’s head began tothrob.Hewas flushedandsweatingundertheweightofthesun.Still Sunder chanted;

and beside the spring, agreen shoot raised itshead. It grew withstaggering celerity; itbecame a vine, spreaditselfalongtheground,putoutleaves.Inamoment,itproduced several buds

whichswelledlikemelons.The Graveler gestured

Linden toward the spring.Her expression hadchanged from suffocationto astonishment. Movingas if she were entranced,shekneltbesidethespring,putherlipsintothewater.She jerked back at once,surprised by the water’scoldness. Then she wasdrinkingdeeply,greedily.

A maleficent firebloomed in Covenant’sright forearm. Hisbreathing was ragged.Dust filled his mouth. Hecouldfeelhispulsebeatinginthebaseofhisthroat.After a time, Linden

pulled away from thespring,turnedtohim.“It’sgood,” she said in dimwonder.“It’sgood.”He did not move, did

not look at her. Dreadspurted up in him likewaterfromdryground.“Come on,” she urged.

“Drink.”He could not stop

staring at Marid. Withoutshifting his gaze, heextended his right armtowardher.She glanced at it, then

gave a sharp cry andleapedtohim,tookholdof

his arm to look at itclosely.He was loath to see

what she saw; but heforced himself to gazedownward.Hisforearmwaslivid.A

short way up from hiswrist, twopuncturemarksglared bright red againstthe darkness of theswelling.“Bastardbitme,”he coughed as if he were

alreadydying.

EIGHT:TheCorruptionoftheSun

“Sunder!” Lindenbarked. “Give me yourknife,”The Graveler hadfaltered when he saw thefangmarks;andthespringhad also faltered. But herecoveredquickly,restoredthe cadence of his chant.The shaft of Sunbane-fire

wavered, thengrew stableonce more. The melonscontinuedtoripen.Still chanting, heextended his poniardtoward Linden. She strodeover to him, took theblade.Shedidnothesitate;all her actions werecertain.StoopingtooneofMarid’s ankles, she cut asection of the rope whichboundthestake.

The pain became ahammer in Covenant’sforearm, beating as if itmeant to crush the bones.Mutely, he gripped theelbow with his left hand,squeezedhard inanefforttorestrictthespreadofthevenom.Hedidnotwanttodie like this, with all hisquestionsunanswered,andnothingaccomplished.Amoment later, Linden

returned.Herlipsweresetin lines of command.Whenshesaid,“Sitdown,”his knees folded as if sheheldthestringsofhiswill.She sat in front of him,straightened his armbetween them. Deftly sheloopedtheropejustabovehis elbow, pulled it tightuntil he winced; then sheknottedit.“Now,” she said evenly,

“I’m going to have to cutyou. Get out as much ofthevenomasIcan.”He nodded. He tried to

swallow,butcouldnot.She set the point of the

bladeagainsttheswelling,abruptly snatched it back.Her tone betrayed aglimpse of strain.“Goddamn knife’s toodirty.”Frowning, she snapped,

“Don’tmove,”andjumpedto her feet. Purposefullyshe went to the hot redshaft of Sunder’s power.He hissed a warning, butshe ignored him. With aphysician’s care, shetouchedtheponiardtothebeam.Sparks sprayed fromthe

contact; fire licked alongthe knife. When shewithdrew it, she nodded

grimlytoherself.She rejoined Covenant,braced his arm. For amoment,shemethisgaze.“Thisisgoingtohurt,”shesaid straight intohis eyes.“Butit’llbeworseifIdon’tdoit.”He fought to clear histhroat.“Goahead.”Slowly,deliberately, shecut a deep cross betweenthe fang marks. A scream

tore his flesh. He wentrigid, but did not permithimselftoflinch.Thiswasnecessary; he had donesuch things himself. Painwaslife;onlythedeadfeltnopain.He remained stillas she bent her head tosuckattheincisions.Withhis free hand, he grippedhisforehead,clutchingthebones of his skull forcourage.

Her hands squeezed theswelling, multiplying fire.Her lips hurt him liketeeth as she drew bloodand venom into hermouth.The taste shattered her

composure; she spat hisblood fiercely at theground. “God!” shegasped.“Whatkind—?”Atonce, she attacked thewound again, sucked and

spat with violentrevulsion. Her handsshuddered as she grippedhisarm.Whatkind—?Herwords

throbbed along thepressureinhishead.Whatwasshetalkingabout?Athirdtimeshesucked,

spat.Her features strainedwhitely, like clenchedknuckles.Withunintendedbrutality, she dropped his

arm; a blaze shot upthrough his shoulder.Springing to her feet, shestampedonthespatblood,grounditintothedirtasifit were an outrage shewanted to eradicate fromtheworld.“Linden,” he panted

wanly through his pain,“whatisit?”“Venom!” She

fulminated with

repugnance.“Whatkindofplace is this?” Abruptlyshe hastened to Sunder’sspring, began rinsing hermouth.Hershoulderswereknotsofabhorrence.When she returned to

Covenant,herwholebodywas trembling, and hereyes were hollow.“Poison.” She huggedherself as if she weresuddenly cold. “I don’t

have words for it. Thatwasn’t just venom. It wassomething more—somethingworse. Like theSunbane. Some kind ofmoral poison.” She pulledher hands through herhair, fighting for control.“God,you’regoingtobesosick—! You need ahospital.Except there’snoantivenin in theworld forpoisonlikethat.”

Covenant whirled inpain,couldnotdistinguishbetweenitandfear.Moralpoison? He did notunderstand herdescription,butitclarifiedother questions. Itexplained why the RaverinMaridhadalloweditselfto be exposed. So thatMarid would becondemned to theSunbane,would become a

monster capable ofinflicting such poison. Butwhy? What would LordFoulgainifCovenantdiedlike this? And why hadMarid aimed his attack atLinden? Because she wassensitive to the Land,could see things theDespiser did not wantseen?Covenant could not

think. The reek of blood

on his shirt filled hissenses. Everything becamedread; he wanted to wail.But Linden came to hisaid. Somehow shesuppressed her owndistress. Urging himupright,shesupportedhimto the water so that hecould drink. He wasalready palsied. But hisbody recognized its needfor water; he swallowed

thirstilyatthespring.When hewas done, she

helpedhim into the shadeof the shelf. Then she satbeside him and held hislivid arm with her hands,tryinginthatwaytomakehimcomfortable.Blood dripped

unremarked fromhis cuts.The swelling spreaddarkness up toward hiselbow.

Sunder had beenchantingcontinuously;butnowhestopped.Hehadatlastbeenable tomakehisinvocation briefly self-sustaining. When he fellsilent, theorcrest’s vermeilshaft flickered and wentout, leaving the stoneempty, like a hole in theground; but the springcontinuedtoflowforafewmoments. He had time to

drink deeply before thewater sank back into thebarrenearth.Withhisponiard,hecut

themelonsfromtheirvine,then bore them into theshade, and sat down onCovenant’s left.Unsteadilyhe began slicing themelons into sections,scooping out the seeds.Theseedsheputawayinapocket of his jerkin. Then

he handed sections ofmelonacrosstoLinden.“This is ussusimiel,” hesaidinafragiletone,asifhe were exhausted andfeared contradiction. “Atneed it will sustain lifewith no other food.”Wearilyhebegantoeat.Linden tasted the fruit.She nodded her approval,then started todevour thesections Sunder had given

her. Dully Covenantaccepted a piece forhimself.Buthefeltunableto eat. Pain excruciatedthebonesofhisrightarm;and that fire seemed todrawallotherstrengthoutof him, leaving him todrown in a wide slowwhirl of lassitude.Hewasgoing to pass out—Andthereweresomanythingshis companions did not

understand.Onewasmoreimportant

thantheothers.Hetriedtofocus his sight on theGraveler.Buthecouldnotkeep his vision clear. Heclosed his eyes so that hewould not have to watchthe way the Stonedownorblurredandran.“Sunder.”“Ur-Lord?”Covenant sighed,

dreading Sunder’sreaction. “Listen.” Heconcentrated the vestigesofhisdeterminationinhisvoice.“Wecan’tstayhere.I haven’t told you wherewe’regoing.”“Let it pass,” said his

guide quietly. “You areharmed and hungry. Youmusteat.Wewillconsidersuchquestionslater.”“Listen.”Covenantcould

feel midnight creepingtoward him. He strove toarticulate his urgency.“TakemetoRevelstone.”“Revelstone?” Sunderexploded in protest. “Youwander in your wits. Doyou not know thatRevelstone is the Keep ofthe na-Mhoram? Have Inot spoken of the Redeconcerning you? TheRiders journey throughout

the Land, commandingyour destruction. Do youbelieve that they willwelcome youcourteously?”“Idon’tcareaboutthat.”Covenant shook his head,then found that he couldnot stop. The muscles ofhis neck jerked back andforth like the onset ofhysteria.“That’swheretheanswers are. I’ve got to

find out how thishappened.” He tried togesture toward thebarrenness; but all hishorizons were dark,blinded by dust and deadair.“What theSunbane is.I can’t fight it if I don’tknowwhatitis.”“Ur-Lord, it is three

hundredleagues.”“I know.But I’ve got to

go. I have to know what

happened.” He insistedweakly, like a sick child.“SoIcanfightit”“Heaven and Earth!”Sunder groaned. “This isthe greatest madness ofall.” For a long moment,heremainedstill,scouringhimself for endurance orwisdom. Please, Covenantbreathed into the silence.Sunder.Please.Abruptly the Graveler

muttered,“Ah,well.Ihaveno longer any otherdemanduponme.Andyouarenottobedenied.Inthename of Nassic my father—andofMaridmyfriend,whose life you strove toredeematyourcost—Iwillguideyouwhereyouwishto go. Now eat. Evenprophets and madmenrequiresustenance.”Covenantnoddeddimly.

Shutting his mind to thesmell of blood, he took abiteoftheussusimiel.It could not compare

withaliantha for taste andpotency;butitfeltcleaninhismouth, and seemed torelieve some of thecongestion of his pain. Ashe ate, the darknessrecededsomewhat.After he had consumed

his share of the fruit, he

settledhimselftorestforawhile.ButSunderstoodupsuddenly. “Come,”he saidto Linden. “Let us be onourway.”“He shouldn’t be

moved,”sherepliedflatly.“There will be aliantha

nigh the River. Perhapsthey will have power toaidhim.”“Maybe. But he

shouldn’t be moved. It’ll

makethevenomspread.”“Linden Avery,” Sunderbreathed. “Marid was myfriend. I cannot remain inthisplace.”Covenant becameconsciousofadimfetorinthe air. It came from hisarm. Or from Marid’scorpse.For a moment, Lindendidnot respond.Then shesighed,“Givemetheknife.

He can’t travel with hisarmlikethat.”Sunder handed her hisponiard. She lookedclosely at Covenant’sswelling. It had grownupwardpasthiselbow. Itsblack pressure made therope bite deeply into hisarm.He watched tacitly asshe cut away thetourniquet.

Blood rushed at hiswound.Hecriedout.Then thedarkness came

over him for a time. Hewas on his feet, and hisarmswerehookedovertheshoulders of hiscompanions, and theywere moving westward.Thesunbeatatthemasiftheywereanaffronttoitssuzerainty. The air wasturgidwithheat;itseemed

to resist respiration. In alldirections, the stone andsoil of the Plainsshimmeredasiftheywereevaporating. Pain laughedgarishly in his head atevery step. If Linden orSunder did not find somekind of febrifuge for himsoon—Linden was on his left

now,sothatherstumblingwould not directly jar his

sick arm. Oblivion cameandwent.WhenCovenantbecameawareofthevoice,hecouldnotbesureof it.It might have been thevoiceofadream.

“Andhewhowieldswhite wild magicgoldisaparadox—for he is everythingandnothing,

heroandfool,potent,helpless—and with the oneword of truth ortreacheryhewillsaveordamntheEarthbecause he is madandsane,coldandpassionate,lostandfound.”

Sunderfellsilent.Aftera

moment, Linden asked,“Whatisthat?”Shepantedthewordsraggedly.“A song,” said theGraveler. “Nassic myfathersangit—wheneverIbecame angry at his folly.But I have nounderstanding of it,though I have seen thewhite ring, and the wildmagic shining with aterribleloveliness.”

Terrible, Covenantbreathed as if he weredreaming.Later, Linden said,“Keeptalking.Ithelps—Doyou know any othersongs?”“What is life withoutsinging?” Sunderresponded. “We havesongs for sowing and forreaping—songs to consolechildrenduring the sunof

pestilence—songstohonorthosewhoseblood is shedfor the Stonedown. But Ihave setasidemyright tosing them.” He made noeffort to conceal hisbitterness. “I will sing foryouoneof thesongsofa-Jeroth, as it is taught bytheRidersoftheClave.”He straightened hisshoulders, harrowingCovenant’s arm. When he

began, his voice washoarse with dust, short-winded with exertion; butitsuitedhissong.

“ ‘Oh, come, mylove, and bed withme;Your mate knowsneither lust norheart—Forget him in thisecstasy.

I joy to play thetreacher’spart.’Acute withblandishments andspellsSpoke a-Jeroth oftheSevenHells.

“DiassomerMininderain,The mate of might,andMaster’swife,All stars’ and

heavens’chatelaine,With power overrealmandstrife,Attended well, thestorytells,To a-Jeroth of theSevenHells.

“Witha-Jeroththeladyran;Diassomer with fearanddreadFled from the

Master’srulingspan.On Earth she hideshertremblinghead,While all about herlaughterwellsFroma-JerothoftheSevenHells.

“ ‘Forgive!’ shecries with woe andpain;Her treacher’slaughter hurts her

sore.‘His blandishmentshavebeenmybane.IyearnmyMastertoadore.’For in her ears thespurningknellsOf a-Jeroth of theSevenHells.

“Wrath is theMaster—fire andrage.

Retribution fills hishands.Attacking comes he,swordandgage,‘Gainst treachery inallthelands.Then crippled arethecunningspellsOf a-Jeroth of theSevenHells.

“Mininderain hetreatswithrue;

Noheaven-home forbrokentrust,But children giventopursueAll treachery todeathanddust.ThusEarthbecameagallow-fellsFor a-Jeroth of theSevenHells.”

The Graveler sighed.“Her children are the

inhabitantsoftheEarth.Itis said that elsewhere intheEarth—acrosstheseas,beyond the mountains—livebeingswhohavekeptfaith. But the Land is thehome of the faithless, andon the descendants ofbetrayal the Sunbanewreaks the Master’swrath.”Covenant expostulatedmutely.Heknewasvividly

as leprosy that theClave’sview of history was a lie,thatthepeopleoftheLandhad been faithful againstLord Foul for millennia.But he could notunderstandhowsucha liehad come to be believed.Time alone did notaccount for thiscorruption.He wanted to denySunder’s tale. But his

swelling had risen blackand febrile halfway to hisshoulder.Whenhetriedtofind words, the darknessreturned.After a time, he heardLinden say, “You keepmentioning the Riders ofthe Clave.”Her voicewasconstricted, as if shesuffered from severalbrokenribs.“Whatdotheyride?”

“Great beasts,” Sunderanswered, “which theynameCoursers.”“Horses?”shepanted.“Horses? I do not knowthisword.”Do not—? Covenantgroaned as if the pain inhis arm were speaking.Not know the Ranyhyn?He saw a suddenmemoryin theheat-haze: thegreathorsesofRarearing.They

hadtaughthimalessonhecould hardly bear aboutthe meaning of fidelity.Now they were gone?Dead? The desecrationwhich Lord Foul hadwrought upon the Landseemedtohavenoend.“Beasts are few in the

Land,” Sunder went on,“for how can they endurethe Sunbane? My peoplehaveherds—somegoats,a

few cattle—only becauselarge effort is made topreserve their lives. Theanimals are penned in acave near the mountains,broughtoutonlywhentheSunbanepermits.“Butitisotherwisewiththe Coursers of the Clave.They are bred inRevelstone for the uses oftheRiders—beastsofgreatswiftness and size. It is

said that those on theirbacksarewardedfromtheSunbane.” Grimly heconcluded, “We mustevade all such aid if wewishtolive.”NoRanyhyn?Foratime,Covenant’s grief becamegreater than his pain. Butthe sun was coquelicotmalice in his face,blanchingwhatwasleftofhim. The sleeve of his T-

shirt formed a noosearoundhisblackarm;andhis arm itself on Sunder’sshoulder seemed to beraised above him like amad, involuntarysalute tothe Sunbane. Even sorrowwas leprosy, numbcorruption: meaninglessand irrefragable. Venomslowly closed around hisheart.

Sometime later, thedarkness bifurcated, sothat it filledhishead,andyethecouldgazeoutatit.Helayonhisback,lookingat themoon; the shadowsof the riverbanks rose oneither side. A breezedrifted over him, but itseemed only to fan hisfever. The molten lead inhis arm contradicted thetaste of aliantha in his

mouth.His head rested inLinden’s lap. Her headleanedagainsttheslopeofthe watercourse; her eyeswere closed; perhaps sheslept.Buthehadlainwithhishead inawoman’s laponcebefore,andknewthedanger. Of your ownvolition—He bared histeeth at the moon. “It’sgoing to kill me.” The

words threatened tostrangle him. His bodywent rigid, strainingagainst invisible poison.“I’ll never give you thering.Never.”Thenheunderstoodthat

he was delirious. Hewatched himself, helpless,whilehe faded in andoutof nightmare, and themooncrestedoverhead.

Eventually he heardSunder rouse Linden. “Wemust journey now for atime,” the Graveler saidsoftly, “if wewish to findnew aliantha. We haveconsumedallthatishere.”Shesighedasifthevigilshekeptgalledhersoul.“Does he hold?” askedSunder.She shifted so that shecould get to her feet. “It’s

the aliantha,” shemurmured. “If we keepfeedinghim—”Ah,youare stubbornyet.Are stubborn yet stubbornyet.Then Covenant waserect, crucified across theshoulders of hiscompanions. At first, hesuffered under unquietdreams of Lord Foul, ofMarid lying throat-cut

beneathanangrysun.Butlater he grew still, driftedintovisionaryfields—dew-bedizened leas deckedwith eglantine andmeadow rue. Lindenwalked among them. Shewas Lena and Atiaran:strong, and strongly hurt;capable of love; thwarted.And she was Elena,corrupted by amisbegottenhate—childof

rape, who destroyedherselftobreaktheLawofDeath because shebelieved that the deadcould bear the burdens oftheliving.Yet she was none ofthese. She was herself,Linden Avery, and hertouchcooledhis forehead.His armwas full of ashes,and his sleeve no longercutintotheswelling.Noon

held the watercourse in avise of heat; but he couldbreathe,andsee.Hisheartbeat unselfconsciously.Whenhelookedupather,the sun made her hairradiantaboutherhead.“Sunder.” Her tone

sounded like tears. “He’sgoingtobeallright.”“A rare poison, this

aliantha,” the Gravelerreplied grimly. “For that

lie,atleast,theClavemustgiveanaccounting.”Covenant wanted tospeak;buthewastorpidinthe heat, infant-weak. Heshifted his hips in thesand,wentbacktosleep.When he awakenedagain, there was sunsetabovehim.HelaywithhisheadonLinden’slapunderthewestbankoftheriver,and the sky was streaked

with orange and pink,sunlight striking throughdust-laden air. He feltbrittleasanoldbone;buthewaslucidandalive.Hisbeard itched.Theswellinghad receded past hiselbow; his forearm hadfaded from blackness tothe lavender of shadows.Even the bruises on hisface seemed to havehealed.His shirtwas long

dry now, sparing him thesmellofblood.Dimness obscured

Linden’smien;butshewasgazing down at him, andhegaveherawansmile.“Idreamedaboutyou.”“Something good, I

hope.” She sounded liketheshadows.“You were knocking at

mydoor,”hesaidbecausehisheartwasfullofrelief.

“I opened it, and shouted,‘Goddamn it, if I wantedvisitors I’d post a sign!’Yougavemea right crossthatalmostbrokemy jaw.Itwasloveatfirstsight.”At that, she turned herhead away as if he hadhurt her. His smile fellapart. Immediately hisrelief became the oldfamiliaracheofloneliness,isolation made more

poignant by the fact thatshewasnotafraidofhim.“Anyway,” he mutteredwith a crooked grimacelike an apology, “it madesenseatthetime.”Shedidnotrespond.Hervisage looked like a helmin the crepuscular air,fortified against anyaffectionorkinship.Afaintdistantpoundingaccentuated the twilight;

butCovenanthardlyheardit until Sunder leapedsuddenly down the eastbankintothewatercourse.“Rider!” he cried, rushingacross the sand to crouchatLinden’s side.“Almost Iwasseen.”Linden coiled under

Covenant,poisedherselftomove.Heclamberedintoasitting position, fought hisheart and head for

balance. He was in noconditiontoflee.Fright sharpened

Linden’s whisper. “Is hecomingthisway?”“No,” replied Sunder

quickly.“HegoestoMithilStonedown.”“Then we’re safe?”

Already the noise wasalmostgone.“No. The Stonedown

will tell him of our flight.

He will not ignore theescapeofthehalfhandandthewhitering.”Her agitation increased.“He’llcomeafterus?”“Beyond doubt. TheStonedown will not givepursuit.Though theyhavelosttheSunstone,theywillfear to encounter Marid.But no such fear willrestrain the Rider. At thesun’s rising—if not before

—hewillbeahuntforus.”Inatonelikeahardknot,he concluded, “We mustgo.”“Go?”Lindenmurmuredin distraction. “He’s stilltoo weak.” But an instantlater she pulled herselferect,“We’llhaveto.”Covenant did nothesitate. He extended ahandtoSunder.WhentheGraveler raised him to his

feet,herestedonSunder’sshoulder while frailtywhirled in his head, andforcedhismouth to shapewords. “How far have wecome?”“We are no more than

six leagues by the Riverfrom Mithil Stonedown,”Sunder answered. “See,”he said, pointingsouthward.“Itisnotfar.”Rising there roseate in

thesunsetweremountain-heads—the west wall ofthe Mithil valley. Theyseemed dangerously near.Six! Covenant groaned tohimself. In two days.SurelyaRidercouldcoverthat distance in onemorning.He turned back to his

companions. Standingupright in the waterway,he had better light; he

could see them clearly.Loss and self-doubt,knowledgeof liesandfearof truth, had burrowedintoSunder’scountenance.He had been bereft ofeverything which hadenabled him to acceptwhat he had done to hisson, to his wife. Inexchange, he had beengiven a weak driven manwho defied him, and a

hope no larger than aweddingband.And Linden, too, wassuffering. Her skin hadbeen painfully sunburned.Shewascaughtinaworldshedidnotknowandhadnot chosen, trapped in astruggle between forcesshecouldnotcomprehend.Covenant was her onlylink to her own life; andshe had almost lost him.

Ordinary mortality wasnot made to meet suchdemands.Andyetshemetthem and refused even toaccept his gratitude. Shestored up pain for herselfas if no other being hadtherighttotouchher,careabouther.Regret raked atCovenant’s heart. He hadtoomuch experience withthewayotherpeoplebore

thecostofhisactions.Butheacceptedit.There

was a promise in suchpain. It gave him power.With power, he had oncewrested meaning for alltheblood lost inhisnamefrom Lord Foul’s worstDespite.For amomentwhilehis

companionswaited, tryingto contain their haste, hegave himself a VSE. Then

he said tightly, “Comeon.I canwalk,” andbegan toshamble northward alongthewatercourse.With the thought of a

Rider pressing against hisback, he kept his legs inmotion for half a league.But the aftermath of thevenomhad left him tabid.Soonhewas forced toaskfor help. He turned toSunder; but the Graveler

told him to rest, thenscrambled out of theriverbed.Covenant folded

unwillingly to the ground,sat trying to find ananswer to the incapacitywhich clung to his bones.As themoon rose, Sunderreturned with a doublehandfulofaliantha.Eating his share of the

treasure-berries, Covenant

feltnewstrengthflowintohim, new healing. Heneeded water, but histhirstwasnotacute.Whenhewas done, hewas ableto regain his feet, walkagain.With the help of

frequent rests, morealiantha,andsupport fromhis companions, he keptmoving throughout thenight. Darkness lay cool

andsoothingontheSouthPlains, as if all the fierymalison of the Sunbanehad been swept away,absorbed by the gaps ofmidnight between thestars. And the sandybottomoftheMithilmadeeasy going. He drovehimself. The Clave hadcommanded his death.Under the moon, he heldhis weakness upright; but

after moonset, hismovementsbecamea longstagger of mortality,dependentandvisionless.They rested beforedawn; but Sunder rousedthemassunrisedrewnear.“ThedoomoftheSunbaneapproaches,” hemurmured. “I have seenthat your footwear sparesyou.Yetyouwill easemyheart if you join me.” He

nodded toward a broadplane of rock nearby—clean stone large enoughto protect a score ofpeople.Trembling with

exhaustion, Covenanttottered to his feet.Together the companionsstoodon the rock tomeettheday.When the sunbroke the

horizon, Sunder let out a

cry of exultation. Thebrown was gone. In itsplace, the sun wore acoronal of chrysoprase.The light green touch onCovenant’sfacewasbalmyandpleasant, like a caressafter the cruel pressure ofthedesertsun.“A fertile sun!” Sunder

crowed.“Thiswillhamperpursuit, even for aRider.”Leaping off the rock as if

he had been made youngagain,hehurriedtofindaclear patch of sand. Withthehaftofhisponiard,heplowed two swift furrowsacross the sand; and inthemheplantedahandfulof his ussusimiel seeds.“Firstwewill have food!”he called. “Can water befarbehind?”Covenant turned toward

Lindentoaskherwhatshe

sawinthesun’sgreen.Herface was slack and puffy,untouched by Sunder’sexcitement; she waspushing herself too hard,demanding too much ofher worn spirit. And hereyes were dull, as if shewerebeingblindedby thethings she saw—essentialthings neither CovenantnorSundercoulddiscern.He started to frame a

question; but then thesunshine snatched hisattention away. He gapedatthewestbank.The light had movedpartway down the side ofthe watercourse. Andwherever it touched soil,new-green sprouts andshootsthrustintoview.They grew with visiblerapidity.Above the rimofthe river, a few bushes

raised their heads highenough to be seen. Greenspread downward like amantle, following the sun-line cast by the east wall;plants seemed to scurryoutof thedirt.Morebushtops appeared beyond thebank. Here and there,young saplings reachedtoward the sky. Wherevertheanademedsunlightfell,the wasteland of the past

three days becamesmotheredbyverdure.“Thefertilesun,”Sunder

breathed gladly. “Nonecan say when it will rise.Butwhenitrises,itbringslifetotheLand.”“Impossible,” Covenant

whispered. He keptblinking his eyes,unconsciously trying toclearhissight,keptstaringatthewaygrassandvines

came teeming down theriverbank, at the straightnew trees which werealready showingthemselves beyond theshrubs along the river’sedge. The effect waseldritch,andfrightening.Itviolated his instinctivesenseofLaw,“Impossible.”“Forsooth,”chuckledthe

Graveler.He seemed new-madebythesun.“Doyour

eyeslackcredence?Surelyyou must nowacknowledge that there istruthintheSunbane.”“Truth—?” Covenant

hardly heard Sunder. Hewas absorbed in his ownamazement. “There’s stillEarthpower—that’sobvious. But it was neverlike this.” He felt anintuitive chill of danger.“What’s wrong with the

Law?” Was that it? HadFoul found some way todestroytheLawitself?TheLaw?“Often,” Sunder said,“Nassic my father sang ofLaw.Buthedidnotknowitsimport.WhatisLaw?”Covenant staredsightlesslyat theGraveler.“The Law of Earthpower.”Fearsome speculationsclogged his throat; dread

rotted his guts. “Thenatural order. Seasons.Weather. Growth anddecay. What happened toit?Whathashedone?”Sunder frowned as ifCovenant’sattitudewereadenial of his gladness. “Iknow nothing of suchmatters. The Sunbane Iknow—and the Redewhich the na-Mhoramhasgiven us for our survival.

But seasons—Law. Thesewordshavenomeaning.”No meaning, Covenant

groaned.No,ofcoursenot.If there were no Law, iftherehadbeennoLawforcenturies, theStonedownor could notpossibly understand.Impulsively he turned toLinden. “Tell him whatyousee.”She appeared not to

hearhim.Shestoodattheside of the rock, wearingan aspect of defenselesshebetude.“Linden!” he cried,

driven by his mortalapprehension. “Tell himwhatyousee.”Hermouth twisted as if

hisdemandwereanactofbrutality. She pushed herhands through her hair,glanced up at the green-

wreathed sun, then at thegreen-thickbank.Shuddering she

permittedherselftosee.Herrevulsionwasallthe

answer Covenant needed.It struck him like aninstant of shared vision,momentarily gifting orblighting his senses withthe acuity they lacked.Suddenly the long grassand curling vines, the

thick bushes, the saplingsno longer seemed lush tohim. Instead they lookedfrenetic, hysterical. Theydid not spring withspontaneous luxurianceout of the soil; they wereforced to grow by theunnatural scourge of thesun. The trees clawedtoward the sky likedrowners; the creeperswrithed along the ground

asiftheylayoncoals;thegrass grew as raw andimmediateasashriek.The moment passed,leavinghimshaken.“It’s wrong.” Lindenrubbedherarmsasifwhatshesawmadeherskinitchlike an infestation of lice.Therednessofhersunburnaggravated all herfeatures. “Sick. Evil. It’snot supposed to be like

this. It’s killing me.”Abruptlyshesatdown,hidher face inherhands.Hershoulders clenched as ifshedidnotdaretoweep.Covenant started to ask,

Killing you? But Sunderwasalreadyshouting.“Your words signify

nothing!This is the fertilesun! It is not wrong. Itsimply is. Thus theSunbane has been since

the punishment began.Behold!”He stabbed a gesture

toward the sandypatch inwhich he had planted hisseeds. The sun-line layacross one of his furrows.In the light, ussusimielweresprouting.“Becauseofthis,wewill

have food! The fertile sungives life to all the Land.In Mithil Stonedown—

now,whileyoustandthusdecrying wrong and ill—every man, woman, andchild sings. All who havestrength are at labor.Whilethefertilesunholds,they will labor until theyfall from weariness.Searching first to discoverplaceswhere the soil is ofa kind to support crops,then striving to clear thatground so seeds may be

planted.Thriceinthisoneday, cropswill be plantedandharvested, thrice eachdayofthefertilesun.“And if people from

another Stonedown comeupon this place, seekingproper soil for themselves,then there will be killinguntiloneStonedownislefttotendthecrops.Andthepeoplewillsing!Thefertilesun is life! It is fiber for

ropeandthreadandcloth,woodfor toolsandvesselsandfire,grabforfood,andfor the metheglin whichhealsweariness.Speaknottomeofwrong!”he criedthickly. But then hispassion sagged, leavinghim stooped andsorrowful. His arms hungat his sides as if inbetrayinghishomehehadgiven up all solace. “I

cannotbearit.”“Sunder.” Covenant’svoice shook. How muchlonger could he endurebeingthecauseofsomuchpain? “That isn’t what Imeant.”“Then enlighten me,”the Graveler muttered.“Comfort the poverty ofmycomprehension.”“I’m trying tounderstand your life. You

endure so much—justbeing able to sing is avictory.Butthatisn’twhatI meant.” He grippedhimself so that his angerwould not misdirect itselfat Sunder. “This isn’t apunishment.ThepeopleoftheLandaren’tcriminals—betrayers.No!”Ihavebeenpreparing retribution. “Yourlives aren’t wrong. TheSunbane is wrong. It’s an

evil that’s being done tothe Land. I don’t knowhow. But I know who’sresponsible. Lord Foul—you call him a-Jeroth. It’shisdoing.“Sunder, he can be

fought. Listen to me.” Heappealed to the scowlingGraveler. “He can befought.”Sunder glared at

Covenant, clinging to

ideas, perceptions, hecould understand. Butafter a moment hedroppedhisgaze.Whenhespoke, his words were arecognition. “The fertilesun is also perilous, in itsway. Remain upon thesafety of the rock whileyoumay.”With his knife,he went to clean awaygrass and weeds fromaroundhisvines.

Ah, Sunder, Covenantsighed.You’rebraver thanIdeserve.He wanted to rest,Fatiguemadethebonesofhisskullhurt.Theswellingof his forearm was gonenow;butthefleshwasstilldeeply bruised, and thejoints of his elbow andwrist ached. But he heldhimself upright, turned toface Linden’s mute

distress.She sat staring emptilyat nothing. Pain draggedher mouth into lines offailure, acutely personaland forlorn. Her handsgripped her elbows,hugging her knees, as ifshe strove to anchorherself on the stiffmortalityofherbones.Looking at her, hethought he recognized his

own first ordeals in theLand.Hemadeanefforttospeakgently.“It’sallright.Iunderstand.”Hemeant to add, Don’t

let it overwhelm you.You’re not alone. Therearereasonsforallthis.Buther reply stopped him.“No, you don’t.” She didnot have even enoughconviction for bitterness.“Youcan’tsee.”

He had no answer. Theflat truth of her wordsdenied his empathy, lefthim groping withinhimselfasifhehadlostallhis fingers. Defenselessagainst his incapacity, hisresponsibility for burdenshewasunabletocarry,hesank to the stone,stretchedouthistiredness.She was here because shehad tried to save his life.

He yearned to give hersomething in return, somehelp, protection, ease.Some answer to her ownseverity. But there wasnothing he could do. Hecould not even keep hiseyesopen.When he looked up

again, the growthonbothsides of the watercourse,anddownthewestbanktothe edge of the rock, had

become alarmingly dense.Some of the grass wasalready knee-deep. Hewonderedhowitwouldbepossible to travel undersuchasun.ButheleftthatquestiontoSunder.While melon buds

ripened on his vines, theGraveler occupied himselfby foraging for wildcreepers.Thesehecutintostrands. When he was

satisfiedwithwhathehadgathered, he returned tothe rock, and beganknotting and weaving thevinestoformameshsack.By the time he hadfinished this chore, thefirst of theussusimielwereripe. He sectioned them,stored the seeds in hispocket, then meted outrations tohis companions.Covenant accepted his

share deliberately,knowing his body’s needfor aliment. But Sunderhad to nudge Linden’sshoulder to gain herattention. She frowned attheussusimiel as if itwereunconscionable,receiveditwithalookofgall.When they had eaten,Sunder picked the rest ofthe melons and put theminhissack.Heappearedto

be in a lighter mood;perhaps his ability toprovide food hadstrengthened his sense ofhowmuchhewasneeded;or perhaps he was nowless afraid of pursuit.Firmlyheannounced,“Wemust leave the riverbed.We will find no waterhere.” He nodded towardthe east bank. “At first itwillbearduous.Butasthe

trees mount, they willshade theground, slowingtheundergrowth.Butmarkme—I have said that thefertile sun is perilous. Wemusttravelwarily,lestwefall among plants whichwill not release us. Whilethis sun holds, we willsojourn in daylight,sleepingonlyatnight.”Covenant rubbed lightly

at the scabs on his

forearm, eyed the rim ofthe bank. “Did you saywater?”“As swiftly as strength

andchancepermit.”Strength, Covenant

muttered. Chance. Helacked one, and did nottrust theother.Buthedidnothesitate.“Let’sgo.”Both men looked at

Linden.She rose slowly to her

feet. Shedidnot raisehereyes; but she noddedmutely.Sunder glanced aquestion at Covenant; butCovenant had no answer.Withashrug,theGravelerlifted his sack to hisshoulderandstarteddowntheriverbottom.Covenantfollowed, with Lindenbehindhim.Sunder avoided the

grass and weeds as muchas possible until hereachedaplacewhere thesides were less steep.Therehedughis feet intothe dirt, and scrambledupward.He had to burrowthrough the underbrushwhich lipped the slope togain level ground.Covenant watched untilthe Graveler disappeared,

then attempted the climbhimself. Handholds onlong dangling clumps ofgrass aided his ascent.After a moment ofslippage, he crawled intoSunder’sburrow.Carefully he moved

along the tunnel ofbracken and brush whichSunder had brunted clear.The teeming vegetationmadeprogressdifficult;he

could not rise above hishands and knees. He feltenclosed by incondignverdancy,asavageecstasyof growth more insidiousthan walls, and morestifling. He could notcontroltheshuddersofhismuscles.Crawling threatened to

exhaust him; but aftersome distance, the tunnelended. Sunder had found

anareawherethebrackenwas only waist-high,shaded by a crowdedyoung copse ofwattle.Hewas stamping down thebrush to make a clearingwhen Covenant and thenLinden caught up withhim.“We are fortunate,”

Sunder murmured,noddingtowardoneofthenearesttrees.Itwasanew

mimosa nearly fifteen feettall;butitwouldnotgrowany more; it was beingstrangled by a heavycreeper as thick asCovenant’s thigh. Thisplant had a glossy greenskin, and it bore a clusterofyellow-greenfruitwhichvaguelyresembledpapaya.“Itismirkfruit.”Mirkfruit? Covenant

wondered, remembering

the narcoleptic pulp withwhich he and Linden hadbeen captured by MithilStonedown. “How is thatfortunate?”Sunder took out hisknife. “The fruit is onematter, the vine another.”Drawing Covenant withhim, he stepped towardthe creeper, gripped hisponiard in both hands.“Stand ready,”hewarned.

Then he leaped upwardand spiked his blade intothe plant above the levelofhishead.The knife cut the vinelike flesh. When Sundersnatched back his blade,clear water gushed fromthewound.Inhissurprise,Covenanthesitated.“Drink!” snappedSunder. Brusquely he

thrust Covenant under thespout.Then Covenant was

gulping at water thatsplashed into his face andmouth. It was as fresh asnightair.When he had satisfied

his body’s taut thirst,Linden took his place,drankasifshewerefranticfor something, anything,which did not exacerbate

thesorenessofhernerves.Covenant feared the vinewould run dry. But aftershe stepped aside, Sunderwas able to drink his fillbeforethestreambegantoslacken.While the water lasted,

the companions used it towash their hands andfaces, sluice some of thedust from their clothes.Then the Graveler

shouldered his sack. “Wemust continue. Nothingmotionless is free ofhazardunderthissun.”Todemonstrate his point, hekicked his feet, showedhow the grass tried towind around his ankles.“And the Rider will beabroad.WewilljourneyasneartheMithilassoilandsunallow.”He gestured northward.

In that direction, beyondtheshadeofthecopse,layabroadswathofrawgraygrass, chest-high andgrowing. But then thegrassfadedintoastandoftrees, an incongruousaggregation of oak andsycamore, eucalyptus andjacaranda. “There is greatdiversity in the soil,”Sunderexplained,“andthesoil grows what is proper

toit.Icannotforeseewhatwewillencounter.Butwewill strive to stay amongtreesandshade.”Scanningthe area as if he expectedto see signs of the Rider,hebegantobreasthiswaythroughthethickgrass.Covenant followedunsteadily,with Linden athisback.By the timetheynearedthe trees, his arms were

latticedwithfinescratchesfromtheroughblades;andthe grass itself wavedabovehishead.But later,asSunderhad

predicted,theshadeofthetreesheldtheundergrowthto more naturalproportions. And thesetrees led to a woodlandeven more heavilyshadowed by cypress,floweringmulberry, and a

maple-like tree withyellow leaves whichCovenant recognizedpoignantly as Gilden. Thesightofthesestatelytrees,which the people of theLand had once treasuredso highly, now beinggrown likepuppetsby theSunbane, made ire poundlikevertigointhebonesofhisforehead.He turned to share his

outrage with Linden. Butshe was consumed by herown needs, and did notnotice him. Her gaze washaunted by misery; hereyes seemed to winceaway from everythingaroundher,asifshecouldnot blind herself to thescreaming of the trees.Neither she nor Covenanthadanychoicebuttokeepmoving.

Shortly after noon,Sunder halted in a bowerunder a dense willow.There the companions ateamealofussusimiel.Then,half a league farther on,they came across anothermirkfruit creeper. Thesethings sustained Covenantagainst his convalescentweakness. Nevertheless hereached the end of hisstamina by midafternoon.

Finally, hedropped to theground,allowedhimselftoliestill.Allhismusclesfeltlikemud;hisheadworeavise of fatigue thatconstricted his sight andbalance. “That’s enough,”he mumbled. “I’ve got torest.”“You cannot,” theGraveler said.He soundeddistant. “Not until thesun’s setting—or until we

have found barrenground.”“He has to,” panted

Linden. “He hasn’t got hisstrength back.He still hasthat poison in him. Hecouldrelapse.”After amoment, Sunder

muttered, “Very well.Remain with him—wardhim. I will search for aplace of safety.” CovenantheardtheGravelerstalking

awaythroughthebrush.Impelled by Sunder’swarning, Covenantcrawled to the shade of abroadGildentrunk,seatedhimself against the bark.Forashorttime,heclosedhis eyes, floated awayalong the wide rolling ofhisweariness.Linden brought himback to himself. Shemusthave been tired, but she

could not rest. She pacedback and forth in front ofhim, gripping her elbowswith her hands, shakingher head as if she werearguing bitterly withherself. He watched for amoment, tried to squeezethe fatigue from his sight.Then he said carefully,“Tell me what’s thematter.”“That’s the worst.” His

request triggered wordsoutofher;butsherepliedto herself rather than tohim. “It’s all terrible, butthat’stheworst.Whatkindof tree is that?” Sheindicatedthetrunkagainstwhichhesat.“It’s called a Gilden.”

Spurred by memories, headded, “Thewoodused tobe considered veryspecial.”

“It’s the worst.” Herpacing tightened.“Everything’shurt.Insuchpain—” Tremors began toscaleupward inhervoice.“But that’s the worst. AlltheGilden.They’reonfireinside.Likeanauto-da-fé.”Herhandssprangtocoverthe distress on her face.“Theyought tobeputoutoftheirmisery.”Put out of—? The

thought frightened him.Like Sunder’s mother?“Linden,” he said warily,“tell me what’s thematter.”She spun on him in

suddenrage.“Areyoudeafaswellasblind?Can’tyoufeel anything? I saidthey’re in pain! Theyought to be put out oftheirmisery!”“No.”He faced her fury

without blinking. That’swhatKevindid.TheLand’sneedbrokehisheart.Soheinvoked the Ritual ofDesecration, trying toextirpate evil bydestroying what he loved.Covenant winced toremember how close hehad come to walking thatpath himself. “You can’tfight Lord Foul that way.That’sjustwhathewants.”

“Don’ttellmethat!”shespat at him. “I don’twantto hear it. You’re a leper.Why should you careaboutpain?Let thewholeworld scream! It won’tmake any difference toyou.” Abruptly she flungherself to the ground, satagainst a tree with herknees raised to her chest.“I can’t take any more.”Suppressed weeping

knurled her face. Shebowed her head, sat withher arms outstretched andrigidacrossherknees.Herhands curled into fists,clingingfutilelytothinair.“Ican’t.”The sight of her wrung

his heart. “Please,” hebreathed. “Tell me whythishurtsyousomuch.”“I can’t shut it out.”

Hands, arms, shoulders—

every part of her wasclenched into a rictus ofdamned and demandingpassion.“It’sallhappeningtome.Icansee—feel—thetrees. In me. It’s too—personal.Ican’ttakeit.It’skillingme.”Covenant wanted to

touch her, but did notdare. She was toovulnerable. Perhaps shewould be able to feel

leprosy in the contact ofhis fingers.Foramoment,he grappled with a desiretotellheraboutKevin.Butshe might hear that storyasadenialofherpain.Yethe had to offer hersomething.“Linden,” he said,

groaning inwardly at thearduousness of what hemeant to say, “when hesummoned us here, Foul

spoke to me. You didn’thearhim.I’mgoingtotellyouwhathesaid.”Her hands writhed; but

she made no other reply.After a difficult moment,he began to repeat theDespiser’scoldscorn.Ah,youarestubbornyet.He remembered every

word of it, every drop ofvenom, every infliction ofcontempt. The memory

cameuponhimlikeageas,overwhelming hisrevulsion, numbing hisheart.Yethedidnottrytostop. He wanted her tohear it all. Since he couldnot ease her, he tried tosharehissenseofpurpose.Youwillbetheinstrumentofmyvictory.Asthewordsfellonher,she coiled into herself—curled her arms around

her knees, buried her faceagainstthem—shrankfromwhathewas saying like achildinterror.There is despair laid upfor you here beyondanything your petty mortalheartcanbear.Yet throughout hisrecitation he felt that shehardlyheardhim,thatherreaction was private, animplication of things he

did not know about her.He half expected her tobreak out in keening. Sheseemed so bereft of thesimple instinct for solace.She could have sustainedherself with anger at theDespiser, as he did; butsuch an outlet seemed tohave no bearing on hercomplex anguish. She satfolded trembling intoherself, and made no

sound.Finally he could no

longer endure watchingher.Hecrawledforwardasif he were damninghimself, and sat besideher. Firmly he pried herright hand loose from itsclinch,placedhishalfhandin her grip so that shecould not let go of hismaimed humanity unlessshe released her hold on

herself. “Lepers aren’tnumb,” he said softly.“Onlythebodygetsnumb.The rest compensates. Iwant to help you, and Idon’tknowhow.”Throughthe words, he breathed,Don’t hurt yourself likethis.Somehow the touch of

his hand, or the empathyin his voice, reached her.As if by a supreme act of

will,shebegantorelaxhermuscles,undotheknotsofher distress. She drew ashuddering breath, let hershoulderssag.Butstillsheclungtohishand,heldtheplaceofhis lost fingers asif that amputation werethe only part of him shecouldunderstand.“Idon’tbelieve inevil.”

Her voice seemed toscrape through her throat,

come out smeared withblood. “People aren’t likethat. This place is sick.LordFoulisjustsomethingyou made up. If you canblame sickness onsomebody, instead ofaccepting it forwhat it is,then you can avoid beingresponsible for it. Youdon’t have to try to endthepain.”Herwordswereanaccusation;buthergrip

on his hand contradictedit. “Even if this is adream.”Covenant could not

answer. If she refused toadmit the existenceofherown inner Despiser, howcould he persuade her?And how could he try todefend her against LordFoul’s manipulations?When she abruptlydisengaged her hand, rose

to her feet as if to escapethe implications of hisgrasp, he gazed after herwith an acheof lonelinessindistinguishablefromfearinhisheart.

NINE:River-Ride

A short time later,Sunder returned. If henoticedLinden’stensionasshe stood there pale andabsolute with her back toCovenant, he did not askfor any explanation.Quietlyheannouncedthathe had found a placewhere they could restsafely until the next

morning. Then he offeredCovenanthishand.Covenant accepted thehelp, lethimselfbepulledtohisfeet.Hismusclesfeltlikeashesinhislimbs;butby leaning on Sunder’sshoulder he was able totravel another half aleaguetoreachastretchofrock.Itwashiddenamonghigh brush, whichprovided at least some

protection againstdiscovery.Recliningontherough stone, Covenantwent to sleep for theremainder of theafternoon. After a supperof ussusimiel, he surprisedhimself by sleepingthroughoutthenight.In spite of the hardness

of his bed, he did notawaken until shortly aftersunrise. By that time,

Sunder had alreadycleared a patch of groundandplantedanewcropofmelons.When Covenant arose,Linden joined him.Avoidinghisgazeasifshecouldnottoleratethesightof his thoughts, hisconcern for her, hiscountervailing beliefs, sheexamined him mutely,then pronounced him free

of fever, fit to travel.Something she sawdisturbed her, but she didnot say what it was, andhedidnotask.AssoonasSunder’snew

crop was ripe, hereplenished his stock ofseeds and refilled his sackof melons. Then he ledCovenantandLindenawayintothebrush.The Mithil River had

turned toward thenorthwest, and theycontinued to follow itscourse as closely as theterrain permitted. Initiallytheir progress was slow;their way traversed atangleofground-ivywhichthreatened to baffle eventhe Graveler’s strength.But beyond the ivy theyentered a deep forest ofbanyan trees, andwalking

becameeasier.The second day of thefertile sun raised thebanyans to heights farbeyondanythingCovenantwould have believedpossible. Huge avenuesand galleries lay betweenthe trunks; the prodigiousintergrown branchesarched and stretched likethe high groined ceilingand towering pillars of a

place of reverence inRevelstone—or like thegrand cavern of Earthrootunder MelenkurionSkyweir.Buttheeffectwasominous rather thangrand. Every bough andtrunk seemed to besuffering under its ownweight.Several times, Covenant

thoughtheheardarumbleof hooves in the distance,

thoughhesawnothing.The next day, the

companions met some ofthe consequences of thesun’s necrotic fecundity.By midmorning, theyfound themselvesstrugglingthroughanareawhich,justthedaybefore,hadbeenastandofcedarsmanyhundredsoffeettall.Butnowit looked like thesceneofaholocaust.

Sometime during thenight,thetreeshadstartedto topple;andeach fallingcolossus had choppeddown others. Now theentire region was a chaosof broken timber—trunksand branches titanicallyrent, splintered, crushed.The three companionsspent the whole daywrestlingwiththeruins.Near sunset, they won

throughtoalowhillsideofheather, seething in thebreeze and twice theirheight. Sunder attackedthe wrist-thick stems withhis poniard, andeventually succeeded inclearing an area largeenough for them to liedown. But even then hecouldnotrest;hewastautwith anxiety. While theyate, Covenant made no

comment; and Linden,wrapped in her privacy,seemed unaware of theGraveler. But laterCovenant asked him whattroubledhim.Grimly Sunder replied,

“I have found no stone.Themoonwanes,andwillnot penetrate this heathersufficiently to aid mysearch.IknownothowtoavoidMarid’sfate.”

Covenant considered fora moment, then said, “I’llcarryyou.IfI’mprotected,yououghttobesafe,too.”The Graveler accededwithastiff shrug.Butstillhe did not relax.Covenant’s suggestionviolated a lifetime ofingrained caution. QuietlyCovenant said, “I thinkyou’ll be all right. I wasright about the aliantha,

wasn’tI?”Sunder responded by

settling himself for sleep.But when Covenantawakened briefly duringthenightandlookedabouthim, he saw the Gravelerstaring up into thedarkness of the heatherlike a man biddingfarewell to the use of hiseyes.The companions rose in

the early gray of dawn.Together they movedthrough the heather untilthey found a thinningthrough which they couldglimpse the easternhorizon. The breeze hadbecome stronger andcooler since the previousevening. Covenant felt alow chill of apprehension.PerhapsheandLindenhadnotbeenprotectedbytheir

footwear; perhaps theywere naturally immune tothe Sunbane. In that case—They had no time to

search for alternatives.Sunrise was imminent.Linden took the sack ofmelons. Covenant stoopedto let Sunder mount hisback. Then they faced theeast. Covenant had tocompelhimselfnottohold

hisbreath.Thesuncameupflaring

azure,blue-cladinanauraofsapphire.It shone for only a

moment. Then blackclouds began to rollwestward like thevanguardofanattack.“The sun of rain.”With

an effort, Sunderungnarledhis fingers fromCovenant’s shoulders and

dropped to the ground.“Now,” he rasped againstthe constriction of hischest, “we will at lastbegin to travel with someswiftness.Ifwedonotfoilpursuitaltogether,wewillatleastprolongourlives.”At once, he turned

toward the River, startedplunging hurriedlythrough the heather as ifhewereracingtheclouds.

Covenant faced Lindenacross the risingwind. “Isheallright?”“Yes,” she replied

impatiently. “Our shoesblock theSunbane.”Whenhe nodded his relief, shehastenedafterSunder.The heather spread

westward for somedistance, then changedabruptly into a thicket ofknaggy bushes as tall as

trees along the riverbank.Thecloudswereoverhead,and a few raindrops hadbeguntospatteroutofthesky, as Sunder forged intothe high brush. While hemoved,hehackedorbrokeoff stout branches nearlyeight feet along, cut looselong sections of creeper.Thesehedraggedwithhimthrough the thicket.Whenhe had collected all he

couldmanage,hegavethebranches and vines to hiscompanions,thengatheredmore wood of the samelength.By the time they camein sight of the riverbed,only a small strip of skyremainedclearinthewest.Sunder pressed forwardto the edge of the bank.Therehepreparedaspacein which he could work.

Obeying his terse orders,though theydidnot knowwhat he had in mind,Covenant and Lindenhelped him strip his vinesandbranchesof twigsandleaves. Then they put allthe wood togetherlengthwise, and Sunderlashed it into a securebundle with the vines.Whenhewasdone,hehada tight stack thicker than

thereachofhisarms.Wind began to rip the

top of the thicket. Heavydrops slapped against theleaves,producinga steadydrizzle within the brush.But Sunder appeared tohave forgotten his haste.Hesatdownanddidwhathe could to make himselfcomfortable.After a moment,

Covenant asked, “Now

what?”Sunderlookedathim,atLinden. “Are you able toswim?”Theybothnodded.“ThenwewillawaittherisingoftheRiver.”Covenant blinked thewater out of his eyes.Damnation,hemuttered.Araft.The idea was a goodone. The current of the

Mithil would provide afaster pace than anythingthey could hope to matchbytravelingoverland.AndSunder’s raft would givethem something to holdonto so that they did notexhaust themselves. TheGravelerhadbeen in sucha hurry because the choreofmaking even this smallraft would have been farmore difficult under the

full weight of the rain.Covenant nodded tohimself. Sunder was amore resourceful guidethanhedeserved.Linden seated herself

near the raft and foldedher arms over her knees.In a flat voice, she said,“It’sgoingtobecold.”That was true; the rain

was already chilly. ButCovenant ignored it,

moved to look down intotheriverbottom.The sight made himdubious. The bed waschoked with growthalmost to the level of therim.Hedidnotknowhowlongthewaterwould taketo rise; but when it did,the treesandbrushwouldmake it extremelyhazardous.As Sunder handed out

rations of ussusimiel,Covenant continuedstudying the watercourse.The downpour was hardand flat now, beating intothe brush as steadily as awaterfall, and the airdarkenedgradually;buthecould see well enough tomake out the first muddystirrings of the River.Initiallyhe feared that thewater would rise too

slowly.Butthethickethadcaused him tounderestimate the forceofthestorm.Thetorrentsfellheavily—andmoreheavilymoment by moment. Therain sounded like a greatbeast thrashing in thebrush.Thewater began to run

more rapidly.Moiling likea current of snakes, thestream slipped between

the trees, rushed slappingand gurgling through theshrubs. All this region ofthe South Plains drainedinto the watercourse.Covenant had barelyfinished his meal when asudden change came overtheflow.Withoutwarning,thecurrentseemedtoleapupward, forward, like apouncing predator; andsomeofthebushesshifted.

They were shallow-rooted.The stream tuggedthem free. They caughtpromptly in the limbs ofthe trees, hung there likedesperation in the coils ofthe current. But thewaterbuiltupagainstthem.Thetreesthemselvesstartedtotopple.Soon uprooted trunksandbranchesthrongedtheRiver, beating irresistibly

downstream. The waterseethed with the force ofanavalanche.RaincrashedintotheMithil,anditroseand ran avidly. Foot byfoot,itsweptitselfclean.The current was morethanhalfwayupthebankswhen Sunder got to hisfeet. He spent a momentensuring that his fewpossessions were secure,then stooped to the raft,

lashed the sack of melonstightlytothewood.A spasm of fear twisted

Covenant’s chest. “It’s toodangerous!” he shoutedthrough the noise of therain. “We’ll bebattered topieces!”I’maleper!“No!” Sunder returned.

“We will ride with thecurrent—with the trees! Ifthe hazard surpasses you,we must wait! The River

willnotrunclearuntilthemorrow!”Covenant thought about

theRider,aboutbeingshehad encountered whocouldsensethepresenceofwhite gold. Before hecould respond, Lindenbarked, “I’ll go crazy if Ihave to spend my timesittinghere!”Sunder picked up one

end of the raft. “Cling to

thewood, lestwe becomelosttoeachother!”Atonce,shebent to the

other end of the bundle,locked her hands amongthebranches,liftedthem.Cursing silently,

Covenant placed himselfbeside her and tried togripthewetbranches.Thenumbness of his fingersthreatened to betray him;hecouldnotbesureofhis

hold.“Wemustmoveasone!”Sunder warned. “Out intothecenter!”Covenant growled hisunderstanding. He wantedto pause for a VSE. Thewatercourselookedlikeanabysstohisreadyvertigo.The next moment,Sunderyelled,“Now!”andhurled himself toward theedge.

Hellfire!TheraftyankedatCovenantasSunderandLinden heaved it forward.Helurchedintomotion.Sunder sprang for thewater. The raft dove overthe bank. Covenant’s griptorehimheadlongpasttheedge. With a shatteringjolt, he smashed into thewater.The impact snatchedhisinadequate fingers from

the raft. TheMithil swepthim away and down. Hewhirled tumbling alongthecurrent,losthimselfinturbulence andsuffocation. An instant ofpanic made his brain asdark as the water. Heflailed about him withoutknowing how to find thesurface.Then a bush stillclinchedtoitsrootsstruck

his leg a stinging blow. Itrighted him. He clawedupward.With a gasp that madenosound,hebrokewater.Amid the tumult of therain, he was deaf toeverything except air andfear,thecurrentshovingathis face,andthegelid fireof the water. The coldstunnedhismind.But a frantic voice was

howling,“Covenant!”The urgency of Linden’scry reached him. Fightingthe drag of his boots, hesurgedheadandshouldersout of the racing boil,scannedthedarkness.Before he plungedunderwater again, hecaught a glimpse of theraft.It was nearby, ten feetfarther downriver. As he

regained the surface, hestruck out along thecurrent.An arm groped for him.He kicked forward,grabbed at Linden’s wristwith his half-hand. Hisnumb fingers could nothold.Waterclosedoverhishead.Her hand clamped ontohis forearm, heaved himtoward the raft. He

grappled for one of thebranches and managed tofastenhimselftotheroughbark.His weight upsetSunder’s control of theraft. The bundle began tospin. Covenant had animpression of perilousspeed. The riverbankswere only a vaguelooming;theyseethedpasthim as he hurtled along

thewatercourse.“Are you all right?”

Lindenshouted.“Yes!”Together they battled

the cold water, helpedSunder right the raft’splunging.The rain deluged them,

rendered them blind andmute.Thecurrentwrestledconstantly for mastery ofthe raft. Repeatedly they

had to thrash their wayout of vicious backwatersand fend off trees whichcame beating down theRiver like triremes. Onlythe width of the Mithilprevented logjams fromdevelopingateverybend.Andthewaterwascold.It seemed to suck at theirmuscles, draining theirstrength and warmth.Covenant felt as if his

bones were being filledwith ice. Soon he couldhardly keep his headabove water, hardly holdontothewood.ButastheRiverrose,itssurfacegraduallygrewlessturbulent. The current didnot slow; but the increaseof water blunted themoiling effect of theunevenbottomandbanks.The raft became easier to

manage.Then,atSunder’sinstructions, thecompanions began to taketurns riding prone on theraft while the other twosteered, striving to delaythe crisis of theirexhaustion.Later the water became

drinkable. It still left alayerofgritonCovenant’steeth; but rain and runoffslowlymaceratedthemud,

clarifyingtheMithil.He began to hear anoccasional dull boominglikethesoundsofbattle.Itwas not thunder; nolightning accompanied it.Yet it broke through theloud water-sizzle of therain.Without warning, asharp splintering rent theair. A monstrous shadowhove above him. At the

last instant, the currentrushed the raft out fromunder the fall of animmense tree. Too tall forits roots, overburdened bythe weight of the storm,the tree had riven itsmoorings and toppledacrosstheRiver.NowCovenantheardthesame rending everywhere,near and far. The Mithiltraversed a region of

megalithic trees; theclamoroftheirdestructionbroke and boomedincessantly.He feared that one ofthemwouldstrike theraftordamtheRiver.Butthatdid not happen. The treeswhichlandedintheMithiloccluded the currentwithout blocking it. Andthenthenoiseoftheirruinreceded as the River left

thatregionbehind.Rain continued to falllikethecollapseofthesky.Covenantplacedhimselfatone end of the raft andused the weight of hisboots to steady its course.Half paralyzed with cold,he and his companionsrode through a day thatseemed to have nomeasureandnoend.Whentherainbegantodwindle,

that fact could notpenetrate his doggedstupor. As the cloudsrolled back from the east,uncovering the clearheavens of evening, hegapedattheopenairasifit spoke a languagewhichhadbecomealientohim.Together the

companions flopped likedyingfishtotheriverbank,crawled out of the water.

SomehowSundermusteredthe strength to secure theraft against the rising ofthe River. Then he joinedCovenant and Linden inthewind-shelterofacopseofpreternaturalgorse,andslumped to the ground.The teeming black cloudsslidawaytothewest;andthe sun set, glorious withorange and red. Thegloaming thickened

towardnight.“Fire.” Linden’s voicequivered; she wastrembling from head tofoot.“We’vegot tohaveafire.”Covenant groaned hismind out of the mud onwhich he lay, raised hishead. Long vibrations ofcold ran through him;shivers knotted hismuscles. The sun had not

shoneonthePlainsalldayandthenightwasasclearasperfectice.“Yes,” Sunder said

through locked teeth. “Wemusthavefire.”Fire. Covenant winced

tohimself.Hewastoocoldto feel anything exceptdread. But the need wasabsolute.Andhecouldnotbear to thinkofblood.Toforestall the Graveler, he

struggledtohishandsandknees, though his bonesseemedtoclattertogether.“I’lldoit”They faced each other.The silence between themwas marked only by thechill breeze rubbing itsway through the copse,and by the clenchedshudder of breathing.Sunder’s expressionshowed that he did not

trust Covenant’s strength,did not want to set asidehis responsibility for hiscompanions.ButCovenantkept repeating inwardly,You’re not going to cutyourself for me, and didnot relent. After amoment, Sunder handedhimtheorcrest.Covenant accepted itwith his trembling half-hand, placed it in contact

with his ring, glared at itweakly. But then hefaltered.Evenintenyears,he had not been able tounlearnhisinstinctivefearofpower.“Hurry,” Linden

whispered.Hurry? He covered his

face with his left hand,striving to hide his ague.Bloodyhell.Helackedthestrength. The orcrest lay

inert in his fist; he couldnotevenconcentrateonit.You don’t know whatyou’reasking.But the need wasindefeasible. His angerslowly tightened. Hebecame rigid, clenchedagainst the chills. Ireindistinguishable frompain or exhaustion shapeditself to the circle of hisring.TheSunstonehadno

life;thewhitegoldhadnolife.Hegavethemhislife.There was no otheranswer.Cursing silently, hehammered his fist at themud.White light burst in theorcrest: flame sprang fromhis ring as if the metalwere a band of silvermagma. In an instant, hiswholehandwasablaze.

He raised his fist,brandished fire like apromise of retributionagainst theSunbane.Thenhe dropped the Sunstone.It went out; but his ringcontinued to spout flame.In a choking voice, hegasped,“Sunder!”At once, the Gravelergave him a dead gorse-branch. He grasped thewet bark in his half-hand:

his arm shook as hesqueezedwhite flame intothe wood. When he set itdown,itwasafire.Sunder supplied morewood, then knelt to tendtheweakfire.Covenantsetflame to the secondbranch, to a third andfourth. Sunder fed theburning with leaves andtwigs, blew carefully onthe flames. After a

moment, he announced,“Itisenough.”With a groan, Covenant

lethismindfallblank,andthe blaze of his ringplunged into darkness.Night closed over thecopse,huddledaroundthefaint yellow light andsmokeofthefire.Soon he began to feel

heatonhisface.Sagging within himself,

he tried to estimate theconsequences of what hehad done, measure theemotional umbrage ofpower.Shortly the Gravelerrecovered his sack ofmelons from the raft, anddealt out rations ofussusimiel. Covenant felttoo empty to eat; but hisbody responded withouthisvolition.Hesatlikean

effigy, with wraiths ofmoisture curling upwardfrom his clothes, andlooked dumbly at theinanitionofhissoul.When she finished hermeal, Linden threw therinds away. Staring intothe flames, she saidremotely, “I don’t think Ican take another day ofthis.”“Is there choice?”

Fatigue dulled Sunder’seyes. He sat close to theheat, as if his bones werethirsty for warmth. “Theur-Lord aims towardRevelstone.Verywell.Butthe distance is great.Refusing the aid of theRiver, we must journeyafoot.Togain theKeepofthe na-Mhoram wouldrequire many turnings ofthe moon. But I fear we

would not gain it. TheSunbane is too perilous.And there is thematterofpursuit.”The set of Linden’sshoulders showed herapprehension. After amoment,sheaskedtightly,“Howmuchlonger?”The Graveler sighed.“None can foretell theSunbane,”hesaidinadimvoice. “It is said that in

generationspast eachnewsunshoneforfiveandsix,even as many as sevendays. But a sun of fourdays is now uncommon.And with my own eyes Ihave beheld only one sunoflessthanthree.”“Two more days,”Linden muttered. “DearGod.”For a while, they weresilent. Then, by tacit

agreement,theybotharosetogatherwoodforthefire.Scouring the copse, theycollectedasubstantialpileof brush and branches.After that, Sunderstretched out on theground. But Lindenremainedsittingbesidethefire. Slowly Covenantnoticed through hisnumbness that she wasstudyinghim.

In a tone that seemeddeliberately inflectionless,she asked, “Why does itbother you to use yourring?”His ague had abated,

leaving only a vestigialchill along his bones. Buthis thoughts were echoesofanger.“It’shard.”“Inwhatway?” In spite

of its severity, herexpression said that she

wanted to understand.Perhaps she needed tounderstand.Hereadinhera long history of self-punishment. She was aphysician who tormentedherself in order to healothers,asiftheconnectionbetween the two wereessentialandcompulsory.Tothecomplexityofherquestion, he gave thesimplest answer he knew.

“Morally.”For a moment, theyregarded each other, triedtodefineeachother.Then,unexpectedly,theGravelerspoke. “There at last, ur-Lord,”hemurmured,“youhaveutteredawordwhichlies within mycomprehension.”Hisvoiceseemed to arise from thewetwood and the flames.“You fear both strength

andweakness,bothpowerand lack of power. Youfeartobeinneed—andtohave your need answered.AsdoI.“I am a Graveler—well

acquaintedwithsuch fear.A Stonedown trusts theGravelerforitslife.Butinthenameof that life, thattrust, he must shed thebloodofhispeople.Thosewho trust must be

sacrificed to meet thetrust.Thustrustbecomesamatterofbloodanddeath.Therefore I have fled myhome”—the simple timbreof lament in his tonerelieved what he said ofany accusation—“to serveamanandawomanwhomI cannot trust. I knownothowtotrustyou,andso Iam freedof theburdenoftrust. There is naught

between us which wouldrequire me to shed yourlives. Or to sacrifice myown.”Listening to Sunder’s

voice and the fire,Covenant lost some of hisfear. A sense of kinshipcame over him. This dourself-doubting Stonedownorhadsufferedsomuch,andyethadpreservedsomuchof himself. After a long

moment, Covenant chosetoacceptwhatSunderwassaying. He could not payevery price alone. “Allright,”hebreathedlikethenight breeze in the copse.“Tomorrow night you canstartthefire.”Quietly Sunder replied,“Thatiswell.”Covenant nodded. Soonhe closed his eyes. Hisweariness lowered him to

thegroundbesidethefire.Hewantedtosleep.But Linden held hisattention. “It isn’tenough,” she said stiffly.“You keep saying youwanttofighttheSunbane,butyoucanhardly lightafire.Youmightaswellbeafraid of rubbing stickstogether. I need a betteranswerthanthat.”He understood her

point. Surely the Sunbane—capable of torturingnature itself at itswhim—couldnotbeabrogatedbyanything as paltry as awhite gold ring. Hedistrusted power becausenopowerwaseverenoughto accomplish his heart’sdesires.Tohealtheworld.Cure leprosy. Bridge theloneliness which thwartedhis capacity for love. He

made an effort not tosound harsh. “Then findone.Nobodyelsecandoitforyou.”Shedidnotrespond.His

wordsseemedtodriveherbackintoherisolation.Buthe was too tired tocontendwith her. Alreadyhe had begun to fade. Asshe settled herself for thenight, he rode thesusurration of the River

intosleep.

He awoke cramped andchilled beside a pile ofdeadembers.Thestarshadbeen effaced; and in thedawn, the rapid Mithillooked dark and cold, asfatal as sleet He did notbelieve he could surviveanotherdayinthewater.But,asSunderhadsaid,

they had no choice.Shivering in direanticipation, he awakenedhis companions. Lindenlooked pale and haggard,and her eyes avoided theRiver as if she could notbear to think about it.Together they ate a scantbreakfast, then stood on aboulder to face the dawn.As they had expected, thesunroseinaglowofblue,

and menacing cloudsbegan to pile out of theeast. Sunder shrugged inresignation and went toretie his shrinking sack ofmelonstotheraft.The companionslaunched the bundle ofwood. The sting of thewater burned Covenant’sbreathoutofhislungs;buthefoughtthecoldandthecurrent and the weight of

his boots with his oldleper’s intransigence, andsurvivedthefirstshock.Then the raincommenced. During thenight, the River hadbecomelessviolent;ithadwashed itself free offloating brush and treesand had risen above theworstofitsturbulence.Butthe rain wasmore severe,had more wind behind it.

Gusts drove the raindropsuntil they hit like flurriesof hail. Torrents lashedinto thewaterwith ahot,scorchingsound.The downpour rapidly

became torment for thecompanions. They couldnot escape from thesoddenand insidiouscold.From time to time,Covenantglimpsedaburstof lightning in the

distance, rupturing thedark; but the unremittingslash of rain into theMithil drowned out anythunder. Soon hismusclesgrewso leaden,hisnervessonumb,thathecouldnolonger grip the raft. Hejammedhishandinamongthe branches, hooked hiselbow over one of thebindings,andsurvived.Somehow the day

passed. At last, a line ofclearskybrokeopenalongthe east. Gradually therainandwindeased.Morebychance than intent, thecompanionsgainedasmallcoveofgravelandsandinthe west bank. As theydrew their raft out of thewater, Covenant’s legsfailed, and he collapsedfacedown on the pebblesas if he would never be

abletomoveagain.Linden panted,“Firewood.”Hecouldhearthe stumbling scrunch ofher shoes. Sunder alsoseemedtobemoving.Her groan jerked up hishead, heaved him to hishands and knees.Following her woundedstare, he saw what haddismayedher.There was no firewood.

The rain had washed thegravelclean.Andthesmallpatch of shore wasimpenetrably surroundedby a tangle of briar withlong barbed thorns.Exhaustion and tearsthickenedhervoiceasshemoaned, “What are wegoingtodo?”Covenanttriedtospeak,butwastooweaktomakeanysound.

The Graveler locked hisweary knees, mustered ascant smile. “The ur-Lordhasgrantedpermission.Beof good heart. Some littlewarmth will ease usgreatly.”Lurching to his feet,

Covenantwatched blanklyas Sunder approached thethickestpartofthebriar.The muscles of his jaw

knotted and released

irrhythmically, like afalteringheartbeat.Buthedid not hesitate. Reachinghislefthandinamongthethorns, he pressed hisforearmagainstoneofthebarbsandtoreacutacrosshisskin.Covenant was too

stunned by fatigue andcold and responsibility toreact.Linden flinched,butdidnotmove.

With a shudder, Sundersmeared thewellingbloodonto his hands and face,then took out his orcrest.Holding the Sunstone sothat his cut dripped overit,hebegantochant.For a long moment,

nothing happened.Covenant trembled in hisbones, thinking thatwithout sunlight Sunderwould not be able to

succeed. But suddenly ared glow awakened in thetranslucent stone. PowerthecolorofSunder’sbloodshafted in the direction ofthesun.The sunhadalready set

behind a line of hills, butthe Sunstone wasunaffected by theintervening terrain;Sunder’s vermeil shaftstruck toward the sun’s

hidden position. Somedistancefromthecove,theshaft disappeared into thedark base of the hills; butits straight, bright powerwasnothindered.Still chanting, Sundermoved his hands so thatthe shaft encountered athickbriarstem.Almostatonce,flameburstfromthewood.Whenthestemwaswell

afire,he shiftedhispowertothenearestbranches.The briar was wet andalive;buthisshaft litnewstemsandtwigseasily,andthe tangle was so densethat the flames fed eachother.Soonhehadcreatedaself-sustainingbonfire.He fell silent; and theblood-beam vanished.Totteringweakly, hewentto the River to wash

himselfandtheSunstone.Covenant and Linden

hunchedclosetotheblaze.Twilight was deepeningaround them. At theirbacks, the Mithil soundedlike the respiration of thesea. In the firelight,Covenant could see thather lips were blue withcold, her face drained ofblood. Her eyes reflectedthe flames as if theywere

devoidofanyothervision.Grimly he hoped that shewouldfindsomewherethedesire or the resolution toendure.ShortlySunderreturned,

carrying his sack ofussusimiel.Lindenbestirredherselftotendhisarm;buthe declined quietly. “I amaGraveler,”hemurmured.“Such work would nothave fallen to me, were I

slowofhealing.”Heraisedhis forearm, showed herthat the bleeding hadalready stopped. Then hesat down near the flames,and began to prepare aration of melons forsupper.Thethreeofthematein

silence, settled themselvesfor the night in silence.Covenant was seekingwithin himself for the

courage to face anotherdayunder the sunof rain.He guessed that hiscompanions were doingthe same.Theywore theirprivate needs likecerements, and slept inisolation.

The next day surpassedCovenant’s worstexpectations. As clouds

sealedthePlains,thewindmounted to rabidproportions, whipping theRiver into froth andflailing rain like the barbsofascourge.Lightningandthunder bludgeoned eachother across the heavens.In flashes, the skybecameas lurid as the crumblingofa firmament,as loudasan avalanche. The raftrode the current likedead

wood, entirely at themercyoftheMithil.Covenant thrashed and

clung in constant fear ofthe lightning, expecting itto strike the raft, to fryhim and his companions.Butthatkillingblowneverfell. Late in the day, thelightning itself grantedthem an unexpectedreprieve. Downriver fromthem, a blue-white bolt

sizzled into a stand ofprodigiouseucalyptus.Oneof the trees burned like atorch.Sunder yelled at his

companions.Togethertheyheavedtherafttowardthebank, then left the Riverand hastened to the trees.They could not approachthe burning eucalyptus;butwhenablazingbranchfell nearby, they used

other dead wood to dragthebranchoutfromunderthe danger of the tree.Then they fed brush,broken tree limbs,eucalyptusleavesasbigasscythes,totheflamesuntilthe blaze was hot enoughtoresisttherain.Theburningtreeandthe

campfire shed heat like abenediction. The groundwas thick with leaves

which formed the softestbed Covenant and hiscompanions had had fordays. Sometime aftersunset, the tree collapsed,butitfellawayfromthem;after that they were abletorestwithoutconcern.Early in the dawn,

Sunder roused Covenantand Linden so that theywould have time to breaktheir fast before the sun

rose. The Graveler wastense and distracted,anticipating a change inthe Sunbane. When theyhadeaten,theywentdowntotheriverbankandfoundastretchofflatrockwherethey could stand to awaitthe morning. Through thegauntandblackenedtrees,they saw the sun cast itsfirst glance over thehorizon.

Itappearedbaleful,fieryandred;itworecoquelicotlikeacrownofthorns,andcastahumidheatentirelyunlike the fierce intensityof the desert sun. Itscorona seemed insidiousand detrimental. Linden’seyes flinched at the sight.And Sunder’s face wasstrangely blanched. Hemade an instinctivewardinggesturewithboth

hands.“Sunofpestilence,”he breathed; and his tonewinced.“Ah,wehavebeenfortunate. Had this suncome upon us after thedesertsun,orthefertile—”The thought died in histhroat. “But now, after asun of rain—” He sighed.“Fortunate,indeed.”“How so?” asked

Covenant. He did notunderstand the attitude of

hiscompanions.Hisbonesyearned for the relief ofoneclearcleanday.“Whatdoesthissundo?”“Do?” Sunder gritted.

“Whatharmdoesitnot?Itis the dread and tormentof the Land. Still waterbecomes stagnant.Growing things rot andcrumble. All who eat ordrinkofthatwhichhasnotbeen shaded are afflicted

with a disease which fewsurvive and none cure.Andtheinsects—!”“He’s right,” Linden

whisperedwithhermouthfull of dismay, “Oh, myGod.”“It is the Mithil River

whichmakesus fortunate,for it will not stagnate.Untilanotherdesertsun,itwillcontinue to flowfromits springs, and from the

rain.Anditwillwardusinother ways also.” Thereflected red in Sunder’seyesmadehimlooklikeacornered animal. “Yet Icannot behold such a sunwithout faintheartedness.My people hide in theirhomes at such a time andprayforasunoftwodays.Iachetobehiddenalso. Iam homeless and smallagainstthewidenessofthe

world,and inall theLandI fear a sun of pestilencemore than any otherthing.”Sunder’s frankapprehension affectedCovenant like guilt. Toanswerit,hesaid,“You’realso theonly reasonwe’restillalive.”“Yes,” the Gravelerresponded as if he werelistening to his own

thoughts rather than toCovenant.“Yes!” Covenant

snapped. “And somedayevery Stonedown is goingtoknowthat thisSunbaneisnottheonlywaytolive.When that day comes,you’re going to be justabout the only person inthe Land who can teachthemanything.”Sunder was silent for a

time. Then he askeddistantly, “What will Iteachthem?”“To remake the Land.”

Deliberately Covenantincluded Linden in hispassion. “It used to be aplace of such health andloveliness—ifyousawit,itwould break your heart.”His voice gave off gleamsofrageandlove.“Thatcanbe true again.” He glared

at his companions, daringthemtodoubthim.Lindencoveredhergaze;

butSunderturnedandmetCovenant’s ire. “Yourwords have no meaning.No man or woman canremake the Land. It is inthehandsof the Sunbane,for good or ill. Yet this Isay to you,” he gratedwhen Covenant began toprotest. “Make the

attempt.” Abruptly heloweredhiseyes.“IcannolongerbeartobelievethatNassic my father was amere witless fool.”Retrieving his sack ofmelons,hewentbrusquelyandtiedittothecenteroftheraft.“I hear you,” Covenant

muttered. He felt anunexpected desire forviolence.“Ihearyou.”

Linden touchedhisarm.“Come on.” She did notmeethisglance.“It’sgoingtobedangeroushere.”He followed mutely asshe and Sunder launchedtheraft.Soon they were out inthe center of the Mithil,riding the currentunder ared-wreathed sun and acerulean sky. The warmerairmade thewateralmost

pleasant; and the pace ofthe River had slowedduring the night, easingthe management of theraft. Yet the sun’s auroranagged at Covenant. Evento his superficial sight, itlookedlikeasecretthreat,mendacious andbloodthirsty.Becauseofit,the warm sunlight andclear sky seemed likeconcealment for an

ambush.His companions shared

his trepidation. Sunderswam with a doggedwariness,asifheexpectedan attack at anymoment.And Linden’s mannerbetrayed an innominateanxiety more acute thananything she had shownsince the first day of thefertilesun.But nothing occurred to

justify this vague dread.Themorningpassedeasilyas the water lost its chill.The air filled with flies,gnats, midges, like motesof vehemence in the red-tinged light; but suchthingsdidnotprevent thecompanions from stoppingwhenever they sawaliantha. Slowly Covenantbegan to relax. Noon hadpassed before he noticed

that the River wasbecomingrougher.During thedaysof rain,

the Mithil had turneddirectly northward; andnow it grew unexpectedlybroader, more troubled.Soonhedescriedwhatwashappening. The raft wasmovingrapidlytowardtheconfluence of the Mithilandanotherriver.Their speed left the

companions no time forchoice. Sunder shouted,“Hold!” Linden thrust herhair away from her face,tightened her grip.Covenant jammed hisnumbfingersinamongthebranches of the raft. Thenthe Mithil swept themspinningandtumblingintotheturbulentcenteroftheconfluence.The raft plunged end

over end. Covenant felthimself yanked throughthe turmoil, and fought toholdhisbreath.Butalmostatoncethecurrentrushedthe raft in anotherdirection. Gasping for air,he shook water from hiseyes and saw that nowthey were travelingnortheastward.Formore thana league,the raft seemed to hurtle

downthewatercourse.Butfinally the new streameased somewhat betweenitsbanks.Covenantstartedtocatchhisbreath.“Whatwasthat?”Linden

panted.Covenant searched his

memory. “Must have beenthe Black River.” FromGarroting Deep. And fromMelenkurion Skyweir,where Elena had broken

the Law of Death tosummonKevinLandwasterfrom his grave, and haddied herself as a result.Covenant flinched at therecollection, and at thethoughtthatperhapsnoneof the Land’s ancientforests had survived theSunbane. Gritting himself,headded,“ItseparatestheSouthandCenterPlains.”“Yes,”saidtheGraveler.

“Andnowwemustchoose.Revelstone lies north ofnorthwest from us. TheMithil no longer shortensourway.”Covenant nodded. But

the seine of hisremembering brought upother things as well.“That’s all right. It won’tincrease the distance.” Heknew vividly where theMithil River would take

him. “Anyway, I don’twant to walk under thissun.”Andelain.He shivered at the

suddenness of his hopeand anxiety. If alianthacouldenduretheSunbane,could not Andelain alsopreserveitself?OrhadthechiefgemandgloryoftheLandalreadybeenbroughttoruin?

That thoughtoutweighedhisurgencytoreach Revelstone. Heestimated that they wereabout eighty leagues fromMithil Stonedown. Surelytheyhadoutdistancedanyimmediate pursuit. Theycould afford thisdigression.He noticed that Sunderregarded him strangely.But the Graveler’s face

showednodesire at all tobravethesunofpestilenceafoot. And Linden seemedto have lost the will tocare where the Rivercarriedthem.By turns, they begantrying to get some restafter the strain of theconfluence.For a time, Covenant’sawareness of hissurroundingswasetiolated

by memories of Andelain.But then a flutter of coloralmost struck his face,snatching his attention tothe air overhis head.Theatmosphere throngedwithbugs of all kinds.Butterflies the size of hisopenhand,withwingslikeflakes of chiaroscuro,winked and skimmederratically over the water;huge horseflies whined

pasthim; clusters of gnatsswirled likemirages.Theymarked the air withconstant hums andbuzzings, like a rumor ofdistant violence. Thesound made him uneasy.Itching skirled down hisspine.Sunder showed no

specific anxiety. ButLinden’s agitationmounted. She seemed

inexplicablycold;herteethchattered until she lockedherjawstostopthem.Shesearched the sky and theriverbanks apprehensively,looking—The air became harder

to breathe, humid anddangerous.Covenant was

momentarily deaf to theswellinghum.But thenheheard it—a raw thick

growling like the anger ofbees.Bees!The noise augeredthrough him.He gaped indumb horror as a swarmdense enough to obscurethe sun rose abruptly outof the brush along theRiver and came snarlingtowardtheraft.“Heaven and Earth!”Sundergasped.

Linden thrashed thewater, clutched atCovenant. “Raver!” Hervoice scaled into a shriek.“Oh,myGod!”

TEN:ValeofCrystal

The presence of theRaver, lurid and tangible,burned through LindenAvery’s nerves like adischarge of lightning,stunning her. She couldnotmove.Covenantthrusther behind him, turned tofacetheonslaught.Hercrydrownedaswatersplashedoverher.

Then the swarm hit.Black-yellow bodies aslong as her thumb clawedthe air, smacked into theRiver as if they had beendriven mad. She felt theRaver all around her—aspirit of ravage and lustthreshing viciously amongthebees.Impelled by fear, shedove.Thewaterundertheraft

was clear; she sawSunderdiving near her. Hegripped his knife and theSunstoneas ifhe intendedto fight the swarm byhand.Covenant remained on

the surface. His legs andbody writhed; he musthave been swattingwildlyatthebees.At once, her fear

changed directions,

became fear for him. Shelunged toward him,grabbedoneankle,heavedhim downward as hard asshe could. He sanksuddenlyinhergrasp.Twobeesstillclungtohisface.In a fury of revulsion, sheslapped them away. Thenshehadtogoupforair.Sunder rose nearby. Ashe moved, he wielded hisknife.Bloodstreamedfrom

hisleftforearm.She split the surface,

gulped air, and doveagain.The Graveler did not.

Through the distortion ofthewater,shewatchedredsunfire raging from theorcrest. The swarmconcentrated darklyaround Sunder. His legsscissored, lifting hisshoulders. Power burst

from him, igniting theswarm; bees flamed likehotspangles.An instant later, the

attackended.Linden broke water

again, looked aroundrapidly.ButtheRaverwasgone.BurntbodieslitteredthefaceoftheMithil.Sunder hugged the raft,

gasping as if the exertionof so much force had

ruptured something in hischest.She ignored him. HerswiftscanshowedherthatCovenanthadnotregainedthesurface.Snatching air into herlungs, she went down forhim.Shewrenched herself incircles, searching thewater. At first, she couldfind nothing. Then she

spottedhim.Hewassomedistance away across thecurrent, strugglingupward. His movementsweredesperate. Inspiteofthe interference of theRiver, she could see thathe was not simplydesperateforair.With all the strength of

her limbs, she swam afterhim.He reached the surface;

but his body went onthrashingasifhewerestillassailedbybees.Sheraisedherheadinto

theairnearhim,surgedtohisaid.“Hellfire!” he spat like

an ague of fear or agony.Water streamed throughhis hair and his raggedbeard, as if he had beenimmersed inmadness. Hishandsslappedathisface.

“Covenant!” Lindenshouted.He did not hear her.

Wildly he fought invisiblebees,poundedhisface.Aninchoate cry tore throughhisthroat.“Sunder!” she panted.

“Help me!” Duckingaround Covenant, shecaught him across thechest, began to drag himtoward the bank. The

sensation of hisconvulsions sickened her;but she bit down hernausea, wrestled himthroughtheRiver.The Graveler came

limpingafterher,draggingthe raft. His mien wastight with pain. A thinsmearofbloodstainedhislips.Reaching the bank, she

dredged Covenant out of

the water. Spasms ranthrough all his muscles,resisting her involuntarily.But his need gave herstrength;shestretchedhimoutontheground,kneltathissidetoexaminehim.For one horrific

moment,herfearreturned,threatening to swampher.She did not want to seewhatwaswrongwithhim.She had already seen too

much; the wrong of theSunbane had excruciatedher nerves so long, sointimately, that she halfbelieved she had lost hermind. But she was adoctor;shehadchosenthiswork for reasons whichbrooked no excuse of fearor repugnance orincapacity.Settingherselfaside, she bent the newdimension of her senses

towardCovenant.Clenchings shook him

like bursts of brain-fire.His face contorted aroundthe two bee stings. Themarkswerebrightredandswelling rapidly; but theywere not serious. Or theywereseriousinanentirelydifferentway.Linden swallowed bile,

and probed him moredeeply.

His leprosy becameobvioustoher.Itlayinhisflesh like a malignantinfestation, exigent anddire.Butitwasquiescent.Something else raged in

him. Baring her senses toit, she suddenlyremembered what Sunderhad said about the sun ofpestilence—and what hehad implied about insects.Hestoodoverher.Inspite

of his pain, he swattedgrimly at mosquitoes thesizeofdragonflies,keepingthemoffCovenant.Shebither lips in apprehension,lookeddownatCovenant’srightforearm.Hisskinaroundthepale

scars left byMarid’s fangsand Sunder’s poniard wasalready bloated and dark,asifhisarmhadsufferedanew infusion of venom.

The swelling worsened asshegazedatit.Itwastightandhot,asdangerousasafresh snakebite. Again itgave her a vividimpression of moralwrong, as if the poisonwere as much spiritual asphysical.Marid’s venom had

neverleftCovenant’sflesh.Shehadbeendisturbedbyhints of this in days past,

buthad failed to grasp itssignificance. Repulsed byaliantha, the venom hadremained latent in him,waiting—Both Marid andthe bees had been formedby the Sunbane: both hadbeen driven by Ravers.The bee-stings hadtriggeredthisreaction.Thatmusthavebeenthe

reason for the swarm’sattack,thereasonwhythe

Raver had chosen bees towork its will. To producethisrelapse.Covenant gaped back at

her sightlessly. Hisconvulsions began to fadeas his muscles weakened.He was slipping intoshock. For a moment, sheglimpsed a structure oftruth behind his apparentparanoia, his belief in anEnemy who sought to

destroy him. All herinstincts rebelled againstsuch a conception. Butnow for an instant sheseemed to see somethingdeliberate in the Sunbane,something intentional andcunningintheseattacksonCovenant.The glimpse reft her ofself-trust. She knelt besidehim, unable to move orchoose. The same dismay

which had incapacitatedher when she had firstseenJoancameuponher.But then the sounds ofpain reached her—themoanof Sunder’swrackedbreathing. She looked upat him, asking mutely foranswers. He must haveguessed intuitively theconnection betweenvenomandbees.Thatwaswhy he defied his own

hurt to prevent furtherinsect bites. Meeting hersore gaze, he said,“Something in me hastorn.”Hewinced at everyword. “It is keen—but Ithink not perilous. Neverhave I drawn such powerfrom the Sunstone.” Shecould feel his pain as apalpable emission; but hehad clearly rent some ofthe ligatures between his

ribs,notbrokenanyoftheribs themselves, ordamagedanythingvital.Yet his hurt, and his

resolute self-expenditureon Covenant’s behalf,restored her to herself. Ameasure of her familiarseverity returned,steadying the labor of herheart. She climbed to herfeet. “Come on. Let’s gethimbackinthewater.”

Sunder nodded. GentlytheyliftedCovenantdownthebank.Proppinghisleftarm over the raft so thathis right arm could hangfreeinthecoolwater,theyshovedout into thecenterof the current. Then theylet the River carry themdownstream under thebaleofared-ringedsun.Duringtheremainderofthe afternoon, Linden

struggled against hermemoryofJoan,hersenseof failure. She couldalmost hear her motherwhining for death.Covenant regainedconsciousness severaltimes, lifted his head; butthepoisonalwaysdraggedhim back before he couldspeak. Through thewater,she watched the blacktumescence creep avidly

up his arm. It seemedmuch swifter than theprevious time; Marid’spoison had increased invirulence during itsdormancy. The sightblurredhereyes.Shecouldnot silence the fearsgnawingatherheart.Then, before sunset, the

River unbent among aclump of hills into a longstraight line leading

toward a wide ravinewhich opened on theMithil. The sides of theravine were as sheer as abarranca, and theyreflected the low sunshinewith a strange brilliance.Theravinewaslikeavaleofdiamonds;itswallswereformed of faceted crystalwhichcaughtthelightandreturned it in delicateshades of white and pink.

Whenthesunofpestilencedipped toward thehorizon, washing theterrain in a bath ofvermilion, the barrancabecame a place of rareglory.People moved on theriver shore; but they gaveno indication that theysaw the raft. The Riverwas already in shadow,and the brightness of the

crystalwas dazzling. Soonthey left the bank andwentupintotheravine.Linden and Sunder

shared a look, and beganto steer toward themouthof the barranca. In duskmaceratedonlybythelastgleamings along the valerim, they pulled their raftpartway up the shore andcarefully eased Covenantto dry ground. His arm

wasblackandthicktotheshoulder, cruelly pinchedby both his ring and hisshirt,andhemoanedwhentheymovedhim.She sat beside him,

stroked his forehead; buther gaze was fixed onSunder. “I don’t knowwhat to do,” she saidflatly. “We’re going tohave to ask these peopleforhelp.”

TheGraveler stoodwithhisarmsaroundhis chest,cradling his pain. “Wecannot. Have youforgotten MithilStonedown?We are bloodthatthesepeoplemayshedwithoutcosttothemselves.And the Rede denounceshim. I redeemedyou fromMithil Stonedown. Whowillredeemushere?”She gripped herself.

“Thenwhydidwestop?”He shrugged, winced.“Wemusthavefood.Littleussusimielremainstous.”“Howdoyouproposetoget it?” She disliked thesarcasm in her tone, butcouldnotstifleit.“When they sleep”—Sunder’s eyes revealed hisreluctance as clearly aswords—“I will attempt tostealwhatwemusthave.”

Linden frownedinvoluntarily.“Whataboutguards?”“They will ward the

hills, and the River fromthehills.Thereisnootherapproach to this place. Iftheyhavenotyetobservedus,perhapswearesafe.”Sheagreed.Thethought

of stealing was awkwardtoher; but she recognizedthat they had no

alternative.“I’llcomewithyou.”Sunderbegantoprotest;

she stopped him with abrusqueshakeofherhead.“You’re not exactlyhealthy. If nothing else,you’ll need me to watchyour back. And,” shesighed,“Iwanttogetsomemirkfruit.Heneedsit.”The Graveler’s face was

unreadableinthetwilight.

But he acquiescedmutely.Retrieving the last of hismelons from the raft, hebegantocutthemopen.She ate her ration, then

didwhatshecouldtofeedCovenant. The task wasdifficult; she had troublemaking him swallow thethinmorselssheputinhismouth. Again dreadconstricted her heart. Butshesuppressedit.Patiently

shefedsliversofmelontohim, then stroked histhroat to trigger hisswallowingreflex,untilhehad consumed a scantmeal.When she finished, thenight was deep aroundher, and a waning moonhadjustbeguntocrestthehills. She rested besideCovenant for a while,trying to gather up the

unraveled ends of hercompetence.Butshefoundherself listening to hisrespiration as if sheexpected every hoarseintake to be his last. Sheloathedherhelplessnesssokeenly—A distinct fetorrode the breeze fromacrosstheRiver,theeffectofthesunofpestilenceonthe vegetation. She couldnotrest.

Abruptly Covenantbegan to flinch. A faintwhite light winked alonghisrightside—burnedandvanishedinaninstant.She sat up, hissed,“Sunder.”The light came again—an evanescent stutter ofpower from the ringembedded deep inCovenant’sswollenfinger.“Heaven and Earth!”

whispered Sunder. “Itwillbeseen.”“I thought—” Shewatched stupidly as theGraveler slid Covenant’shandintothepocketofhispants. The movementmadehimbarehisteethina grin of pain. His drystare was fixed on themoon. “I thought heneeded the Sunstone. Totrigger it.” His pocket

muffled the intermittentgleaming, but did notconceal it entirely.“Sunder.”Herdomingwasstill damp; she could notstop shivering. “What’shappeningtohim?”“Ask me not,” Sunderbreathed roughly. “I lackyoursight.”Butamomentlater he inquired, “Can itbethatthisRaverofwhichhespeaks—thatthisRaver

iswithinhim?”“No!” she snapped,repudiating the idea soswiftly that she had nochance to control hervehemence. “He isn’tMarid.” Her senses werecertain of this; Covenantwas ill, not possessed.Nevertheless Sunder’ssuggestionstruckchordsofanger which took her bysurprise. She had not

realized that she wasinvesting so much ofherself in ThomasCovenant. Back on HavenFarm, in the world sheunderstood, she hadchosen to support hisembattled integrity,hopingtolearnalessonofstrength. But she had hadno conception of wherethat decision would carryher. She had already

witnessed toomuch whenshehadwatchedhimsmilefor Joan—smile, andforfeithislife.Aninchoatepart of her clung to thisimage of him; his self-sacrifice seemed so muchcleaner than her own.Now, with a pang, shewonderedhowmuchmoreshehadyettocomprehendabout him. And aboutherself. Her voice shook.

“Whatever else he is, heisn’taRaver.”Sunder shifted in thedarkness as if he weretryingtoframeaquestion.But before he couldarticulate it, the dimflicker of Covenant’s ringwas effaced by a brightspanglingfromthewallsofthebarranca.Suddenlythewholeravineseemedtobeonfire.

Linden sprang erect,expecting to findscoresofangry Stonedownorsrushingtowardher.Butashereyesadjusted,shesawthat the source of thereflection was somedistanceaway.Thevillagemust have lit an immensebonfire. Flames showedtheprofileofstonehousesbetweenherandthelight;fire echoed off the crystal

facetsinalldirections.Shecould hear nothing toindicate that she and hercompanions were indanger.Sunder touched her

shoulder. “Come,” hewhispered. “Some highpurpose gathers theStonedown. All its peoplewill attend. Perhaps wehave been granted anopportunitytofindfood.”

She hesitated, bent toexamine Covenant. Acomplex fear made herreluctant. “Should weleave him?” His skin feltcrispwithfever.“Wherewillhego?”theGraveler respondedsimply.She bowed her head.Sunder would probablyneed her. And Covenantseemedfartooilltomove,

to harm himself. Yet helooked so frail— But shehad no choice. Pullingherself upright, shemotioned for the Gravelertoleadtheway.Without delay, Sundercreptuptheravine.Lindenfollowed as stealthily asshecould.She felt exposed in thebrightness of the vale; butno alarm was raised. And

the light allowed them toapproach the Stonedowneasily. Soon they wereamongthehouses.Sunder stoppedateverycorner to be sure that thepath was clear. But theysaw no one. All thedwellings seemed to beempty.TheGravelerchosea house. Motioning forLinden to guard thedoorway,heeasedhimself

pastthecurtain.The sound of voicesreached her. For aninstant, she froze with awarning inher throat.Butthen her hearing clarified,locatedthesound.Itcamefrom the center of theStonedown. She grippedherreliefandwaited.Moments later, Sunderreturned.Hehadabulgingleatherknapsackunderhis

arm. In her ear, hebreathed that he hadfoundmirkfruit as well asfood.He started to leave. But

she stopped him, gesturedinward. For amoment, heconsidered the advantagesof knowing whattranspired in the village.Thenheagreed.Together they sneaked

forward until only one

housestoodbetweenthemandthecenter.Thevoicesbecamedistinct; she couldhearangeranduncertaintyin them. When Sunderpointed at the roof, shenoddedatonce.Hesethisknapsack down, lifted hertotheflateaves.Carefullysheclimbedontotheroof.Sunder handed her thesack. She took it, thenreacheddowntohelphim

joinher.Theexertiontorea groan from his sorechest; but the sound wastoo soft to disturb thevoices. Side by side, theyslid forward until theywere able to see and hearwhatwashappeninginthecenteroftheStonedown.The people weregathered in a tight ringaround the open space.They were a substantially

larger number than thepopulation of MithilStonedown. In an elusiveway, they seemed moreprosperous, better-fed,than the folk of Sunder’shome.Buttheirfacesweregrim, anxious, fearful.They watched the centerof the circle with tenseattention.Beside thebonfire stood

three figures—two men

andawoman.Thewomanwas poised between themen in an attitude ofprayer, as if she werepleading with both ofthem. She wore a sturdyleather shift like the otherStonedownor women. Herpaledelicatefeatureswereurgent,andthedisarrayofherravenhairgaveheranappearanceoffatality.The man nearest to

Linden and Sunder wasalso a Stonedownor, a tallsquare individual with abristling black beard andeyes darkened by conflict.But the person oppositehim was unlike anyoneLinden had seen before.His raiment was a vividred robe draped with ablack chasuble. A hoodshadowedhisfeatures.Hishandsheldashortironrod

likeascepterwithanopentriangle affixed to its end.Emanations of hieraticpride and vitriol flowedfrom him as if he weredefying the entireStonedown.“A Rider!” Sunder

whispered.“ARideroftheClave.”The woman—she was

hardly more than a girl—faced the tall

Stonedownor. “Croft!” shebegged.Tearssuffusedhermien. “You are theGraveler. You mustforbid!”“Aye, Hollian,” hereplied with greatbitterness.Whilehespoke,his hands toyed with aslim wooden wand. “Byrightofbloodandpower,Iam theGraveler. And youare an eh-Brand—a

benison beyond price tothe life of CrystalStonedown.Buthe isSivitna-Mhoram-wist. Heclaimsyou in thenameofthe Clave. How may Irefuse?”“You may refuse—”began the Rider in asepulchraltone.“You must refuse!” thewomancried.“—but should you

refuse,” Sivit continuedremorselessly,“shouldyouthink to denyme, I swearby theSunbane that Iwilllevythena-Mhoram’sGrimuponyou,andyouwillbeground under its mightlikechaff!”At the word Grim, amoan ran through theStonedown; and Sundershivered.But Hollian defied their

fear. “Croft!” she insisted,“forbid! I carenothing forthe na-Mhoram or hisGrim. I am an eh-Brand. Iforetell the Sunbane! Noharm, no Grim or anycurse, will find youunwarywhileIabidehere.Croft! My people!” Sheappealed to the ring ofStonedownors. “Am Inothing, that you cast measide at thewhimof Sivit

na-Mhoram-wist?”“Whim?” barked the

Rider. “I speak for theClave. I do not utterwhims.Harkentome,girl.I claim you by right ofservice. Without themediation of the Clave—withoutthewisdomoftheRede and the sacrifice ofthe na-Mhoram—therewouldbenolifeleftinanyStonedown or

Woodhelven, despite yourarrogance. And we musthave life forourwork.Doyou think to deny me?Condemnablefolly!”“She is precious to us,”said the tall Gravelersoftly. “Do not enforceyourwilluponus.”“Is she?” Sivit raged,brandishing his scepter.“You are sick with herfolly. She is not precious.

She is an abomination!Youthinkheraneh-Brand,aboon rare in theLand. Isay to you, she is a Sun-Sage!Damnedasaservantof a-Jeroth! She does notforetell the Sunbane. Shecauses it to be as shechooses. Against her andher foul kind the Clavestrives, seeking to undothe harm such beingswreak.”

The Rider continued torant; but Linden turnedaway. To Sunder, shewhispered, “Why does hewanther?”“Have you learned

nothing?” he repliedtightly. “The Clave haspower over the Sunbane.Forpower,theymusthaveblood.”“Blood?”He nodded. “At all

times, Riders journey theLand, visiting again andagain every village. Ateachvisit,theytakeoneortwo or three lives—everyoung and strong lives—and bear them toRevelstone, where the na-Mhoramworkshiswork.”Linden clenched heroutrage, kept her voice ata whisper. “You meanthey’regoingtokillher?”

“Yes!”hehissed.Atonce,allherinstinctsrebelled. A shock ofpurpose ran through her,clarifyingforthefirsttimeher maddeningrelationship to the Land.Some of Covenant’s readypassion became suddenlyexplicable. “Sunder,” shebreathed, “we’ve got tosaveher.”“Save—?”Healmostlost

control of his voice. “Weare two against aStonedown.And theRiderismighty.”“We’ve got to!” She

groped for a way toconvincehim.Themurderof this woman could notbe allowed.Why else hadCovenant tried to saveJoan? Why else hadLinden herself risked herlife to prevent his death?

Urgently she said,“Covenant tried to saveMarid.”“Yes!” rasped Sunder.

“Andbeholdthecost!”“No.”Foramoment,she

could not find the answershe needed. Then it cameto her. “What’s a Sun-Sage?”Hestaredather.“Sucha

beingcannotexist.”“What,” she enunciated,

“isit?”“TheRiderhassaid,”hemurmured. “It is onewhocancausetheSunbane.”She fixed him with allher determination. “Thenweneedher.”His eyes seemed tobulge in their sockets.Hishands grasped forsomething to hold onto.Buthecouldnotdeny theforce of her argument.

“Mad,”heexhaledthroughhis teeth. “All of us—mad.” Briefly he searchedthe Stonedown as if hewere looking for valor.Then he reached adecision. “Remain here,”hewhispered.“Igotofindthe Rider’s Courser.Perhapsitmaybeharmed,ordrivenoff.Thenhewillbe unable to bear heraway.Wewillgaintimeto

considerotheraction.”“Good!” she responded

eagerly. “If they leavehere, I’ll try to see wheretheytakeher.”He gave a curt nod.

Muttering softly tohimself, “Mad. Mad,” hecrept to the rear of theroof and dropped to theground, taking hisknapsackwithhim.Linden returned her

attention to Hollian’speople.Theyoungwomanwas on her knees, hidingherfaceinherhands.TheRider stood over her,denouncing her with hisscepter; but he shouted attheStonedownors.“Doyoubelievethatyou

can endure the na-Mhoram’s Grim? You arefeyandanile.BytheThreeCorners of Truth! At one

word from me, the Clavewill unleash suchdevastation upon you thatyou will grovel to bepermitted to deliver upthis foul eh-Brand, and itwillavailyounothing!”Abruptly the woman

jerked upright, threwherself to confront theGraveler. “Croft!” shepanted in desperation,“slay this Rider! Let him

not carry word to theClave. Then I will remaininCrystal Stonedown, andthe Clave will knownothing of what we havedone.” Her hands grippedhis jerkin, urging him.“Croft,hearme.Slayhim!”Sivit barked acontemptuous laugh. Thenhisvoicedropped,becamelowanddeadly.“Youhavenotthepower.”

“He speaks truly,” Croftmurmured to Hollian.Misery knurled hiscountenance. “He requiresnoGrimtoworkourruin.Imust meet his claim, elsewewill not endure to rueourdefiance.”Aninarticulatecrybrokefrom her. For a moment,Linden feared that theyoung woman wouldcollapse into hysteria. But

out of Hollian’s distresscameanangrydignity.Sheraised her head, drewherself erect. “Yousurrender me,” she saidbitterly. “I am withouthelporhope.Yetyoumustat least accord to me thecourtesy of my worth.Restoretomethelianar.”Croftlookeddownatthe

wand in his hands. Therictus of his shoulders

revealed his shame anddecision. “No,” he saidsoftly. “With this woodyou perform yourforetelling. Sivit na-Mhoram-wisthasnoclaimuponit—andforyouithasno future. CrystalStonedown will retain it.Asaprayerforthebirthofaneweh-Brand.”Triumphshonefromthe

Riderasifhewereatorch

ofmalice.At the far side of the

village, Linden glimpsed asudden hot flaring of red.Sunder’s power. He musthave made use of hisSunstone. The beam castvermeil through thecrystal,thenvanished.Sheheld her breath, fearingthat Sunder had givenhimself away. But theStonedownors were intent

on the conflict in theirmidst: the instant of forcepassedunnoticed.Mute with despair,

Hollian turned away fromtheGraveler, thenstoppedasifshehadbeenslapped,staring past the corner ofthehouseonwhichLindenlay. Muffled gaspsspattered around the ring;everyone followed the en-Brand’sstare.

What—?Linden peered over theeaves in time to seeCovenant come shamblinginto the center of thevillage. He moved like aderelict.Hisrightarmwashideously swollen. Poisonblazedinhiseyes.Hisringspaterraticburstsofwhitefire.No! she cried silently.Covenant!

HewassoweakthatanyoftheStonedownorscouldhavetoppledhimwithonehand. But the rage of hisfever commanded theirrestraint; the circle partedfor him involuntarily,admittinghimto theopenspace.He lurched to a stop,stood glaring flamesaround him. “Linden,” hecroaked in a parched

voice.“Linden.”Covenant!Without hesitation, she

dropped from the roof.Before they could realizewhat was happening, shethrust her way betweenthe Stonedownors,hastenedtoCovenant.“Linden?”Herecognized

her with difficulty;confusion and venomwrestled across his visage.