In reaction, all her strength seemed to wash out of her Covenant was coming toward her, and she did not know how to face him. Wearily, she slumped to the grass. Everything she had tried to define for herself during the night had been lost. Now she would have to bear his company again, would have to live in the constant presence of his wild purpose. The Sunbane was rising in Andelain for the first time-She covered her face to conceal her tears.
He halted in front of her. For a moment, she feared that he would be foolish enough to sit down. But he remained standing so that his boots would ward him against the sun. He radiated fatigue, lamentation, and obduracy.
Stiffly, he said, “Kevin doesn't understand. I have no intention of doing what he did. He raised his own hand against the Land. Foul didn't enact the Ritual of Desecration alone. He only shared it. I've already told you I'm never going to use power again. Whatever happens, I'm not going to be the one who destroys what I love.”
“What difference does that make?” Her bitterness was of no use to her. All the severity with which she had once endured the world was gone and refused to be conjured back. “You're giving up. Never mind the Land. There're still three of us left who want to save it. We'll think of something. But you're abandoning yourself.” Do you expect me to forgive you for that?
“No.” Protest made his tone ragged. “I'm not. There's just nothing left I can do for you anymore. And I can't help the Land. Foul took care of that long before I ever got here.” His gall was something she could understand. But the conclusion he drew from it made no sense. “I'm doing this for myself. He thinks the ring will give him what he wants. I know better. After what I've been through, I know better. He's wrong.”
His certainty made him impossible to refute. The only arguments she knew were the ones she had once used to her father, and they had always failed. They had been swallowed in darkness-in self pity grown to malice and hosting forth to devour her spirit. No argument would suffice.
Vaguely, she wondered what account of her flight he had given the Giants.
But to herself she swore, I'm going to stop you. Somehow. No evil was as great as the ill of his surrender. The Sunbane had risen into Andelain. It could never be forgiven.
Somehow.
Later that day, as the company wended eastward among the Hills, Linden took an opportunity to drift away from Covenant and the First with Pitchwife. The malformed Giant was deeply troubled. His grotesque features appeared aggrieved, as if he had lost the essential cheer which preserved his visage from ugliness. Yet he was plainly reluctant to speak of his distress. At first, she thought that this reluctance arose from a new distrust of her. But as she studied him, she saw that his mood was not so simple.
She did not want to aggravate his unhappiness. But he had often shown himself willing to be pained on behalf of his friends. And her need was exigent Covenant meant to give the Despiser his ring.
Softly, so that she would not be overheard, she breathed, “Pitchwife, help me. Please.”
She was prepared for the dismal tone of his reply, but not for its import. “There is no help,” he answered. “She will not question him.”
“She-?” Linden began, then caught herself. Carefully, she asked, “What did he say to you?”
For an aching moment, Pitchwife was still. Linden forced herself to give him time. He would not look at her. His gaze wandered the Hills morosely, as if already they had lost their lustre. Without her senses, he could not see that Andelain had not yet been damaged Ay the Sunbane. Then, sighing, he mustered words out of his gloom.
“Rousing us from sleep to hasten in your pursuit, he announced your belief that it is now his intent to destroy the Land. And Gossamer GIowlimn my wife will not question him.
“I acknowledge that he is the Earthfriend-worthy of all trust But have you not again and again proven yourself alike deserving? You are the Chosen, and for the mystery of your place among us we have been accorded no insight. Yet the Elohim have named you Sun-Sage. You alone possess the sight which proffers hope of healing. Repeatedly the burdens of our Search have fallen to you-and you have borne them well. I will not believe that you who have wrought so much restoration among the Giants and the victims of the Clave have become in the space of one night mad or cruel. And you have withdrawn trust from him. This is grave in all sooth. It must be questioned. But she is the First of the Search. She forbids.
“Chosen-” His voice was full of innominate pleading, as if he wanted something from her and did not know what it was. “It is her word that we have no other hope than him. If he has become untrue, then all is lost. Does he not hold the white ring? Therefore we must preserve our faith in him-and be still. Should he find himself poised on the blade-edge of his doom, we must not over-push him with our doubt.
“But if he must not be called to an accounting, what decency or justice will permit you to be questioned? I will not do it, though the lack of this story is grievous. If you are not to be equally trusted, you must at least be equally left in silence.”
Linden did not know how to respond. She was distressed by his troubled condition, gratified by his fairness, and incensed by the First's attitude. Yet would she not have taken the same position in the Swordmain's place? If Kevin Landwaster had spoken to someone else, would she not have been proud to repose her confidence in the Unbeliever? But that recognition only left her all the more alone. She had no right to try to persuade Pitchwife to her cause. Both he and his wife deserved' better than that she should attempt to turn them against each other-or against Covenant. And yet she had no way to test or affirm her own sanity except by direct opposition to him.
Even in his fixed weariness and determination, he was so dear to her that she could hardly endure the acuity of her desire for him.
A fatigue and defeat of her own made her stumble over the uneven turf. But she refused the solace of Pitchwife's support. Wanly, she asked him, “What are you going to do?”
“Naught,” he replied. “I am capable of naught.” His empathy for her made him acidulous. “I have no sight to equal yours. Before the truth becomes plain to me, the time for all necessary doing will have come and gone. That which requires to be done, you must do.” He paused; and she thought that he was finished, that their comradeship had come to an end. But then he gritted softly through his teeth, “Yet I say this. Chosen. You it was who obtained Vain Demondim-spawn's escape from the snares of Elemesnedene. You it was who made possible our deliverance from the Sandhold. You it was who procured safety for all but Cable Seadreamer from the Worm of the World's End, when the Earthfriend himself had fallen nigh to ruin. And you it was who found means to extinguish the Banefire. Your worth is manifold and certain.
“The First will choose as she wishes. I will give you my life, if you ask it of me.”
Linden heard him. After a while, she said simply, “Thanks.” No words were adequate. In spite of his own baffled distress, he had given her what she needed.
They walked on together in silence.
The next morning, the sun's red aura was distinct enough for all the company to see.
Linden's open nerves searched the Hills, probing Andelain's reaction to the Sunbane. At first, she found none. The air had its same piquant savour, commingled of flowers and dew and tree sap. Aliantha abounded on the hillsides. No discernible ill gnawed at the wood of the nearby Gildens and willows. And the birds and animals that flitted or scurried into view and away again were not suffering from any wrong. The Earthpower treasured in the heart of the region still withstood the pressure of corruption.