Hamako nodded. But his reply suggested politeness rather than any hope for help or guidance-the politeness of a man who had looked at his fate and approved of it “In the name of these rhysh, I thank you. Our intent is simple. Many of the Waynhim are now abroad, harrying the arghuleh to lure them hither. In this they succeed. That massed horde we will meet on the outer plain upon the morrow. There the Waynhim will concert their might and strike inward among the ice-beasts, seeking the dark heart of the force which rules them. If we discover that heart-and are equal to its destruction-then will the arghuleh be scattered, becoming once more their own prey.
“If we fail- ” The Stonedownor shrugged. There was no fear in his face. “We will at least weaken that horde sorely ere we die.”
The First was faster than Covenant “Hamako,” she said, “I like this not It is a tactic of desperation. It offers no second hope in event of first failure.”
But Hamako did not waver. “Giant, we are desperate. At our backs lies naught but the Sunbane, and against that ill we are powerless. Wherefore should we desire any second hope? All else has been rent from us. It is enough to strike this blow as best we may.”
The First had no answer for him. Slowly, his gaze left her. returned to Covenant. His brown eyes seemed as soft as weeping-and yet too hard to be daunted. “Because I have been twice bereft,” he said in that kind and unbreachable voice, “I have been granted to stand at the forefront, forging the puissance of five rhysh with my mortal hands.”
Then Covenant saw that now at last be would be allowed to ask his true question; and for an instant his courage failed. How could he bear to hear what had happened to Hamako? Such extravagant human valour came from several sources-and one of them was despair.
But Hamako's eyes held no flinch of self-pity Covenant's companions were watching him, sensitive to the importance of what lay between him and Hamako. Even Mistweave and Honninscrave showed concern; and Linden's visage ached as if Hamako's rue were poignant to her. With a wrench of will, Covenant denied his fear.
“You still haven't told me.” Strain made his tone harsh. “All this is fine. I even understand it.” He was intimately familiar with desperation. In the warmth of the cavern, he had begun to sweat. “But why in the name of every good and beautiful thing you've ever done in your life are you here at all? Even the threat of that many arghuleh can't compare with what you were doing before.”
The bare memory filled his throat with inextricable wonder and sorrow.
Lord Foul had already destroyed virtually all the natural life of the Land. Only Andelain remained, preserved against corruption by Caer-Caveral's power. Everything else that grew by Law or love from seed or egg or birth had been perverted.
Everything except that which Hamako's rhysh had kept alive.
In a cavern which was huge on the scale of lone human beings, but still paltry when measured by the destitution of the Land, the Waynhim had nurtured a garden that contained every kind of grass, shrub, flower, and tree, vine, grain, and vegetable they had been able to find and sustain. And in another cave, in a warren of pens and dens, they had saved as many species of animal as their lore and skill allowed.
It was an incomparable expression of faith in the future, of hope for the time when the Sunbane would be healed and the Land might be dependent upon this one tiny pocket of natural life for its renewal.
And it was gone. From the moment when he had recognized Hamako, Covenant had known the truth. Why else were the Waynhim here, instead of tending to their chosen work?
Useless rage cramped his chest, and his courage felt as brittle as dead bone, as he waited for Hamako's response.
It was slow in coming; but even now the Stonedownor did not waver. “It is as you have feared,” he said softly. “We were driven from our place, and the work of our lives was destroyed.” Then for the first time his voice gave a hint of anger. “Yet you have not feared enough. That ruin did not befall us alone. Across all the Land, every rhysh was beaten from its place and its work. The Waynhim gathered here are all that remain of their race. There will be no more.”
At that Covenant wanted to cry out, plead, protest. No! Not again! Was not the genocide of the Unhomed enough? How could the Land sustain another such loss?
But Hamako seemed to see Covenant's thoughts in his aghast face. “You err, ring-wielder,” said the Stonedownor grimly. “Against Ravers and the Despiser, we were forewarned and defended. And Lord Foul had no cause to fear us. We were too paltry to give him threat. No. It was the ur-viles, the black and birthless kindred of the Waynhim, that wrought our ruin from rhysh to rhysh across the Land.”
Wrought our ruin. Our ruin across the Land Covenant was no longer looking at Hamako. He could not. All that beauty. Gone to grief where all dreams go. If he met those soft, brown, irreparable eyes, he would surely begin to weep.
“Their assault was enabled to succeed because we did not expect it-for had not ur-vile and Waynhim lived in truce during all the millennia of their existence? — and because they have studied destruction as the Waynhim have not.” Slowly, the edge of his tone was blunted. “We were fortunate in our way. Many of us were slain-among them some that you have known. Vraith, dhurng, ghramin.” He spoke the names as if he knew how they would strike Covenant; for those were Waynhim who had given their blood so that he could reach Revelstone in time to rescue Linden, Sunder, and Hollian. But many escaped. Other rhysh were butchered entirely.
“Those Waynhim that survived wandered without purpose until they encountered others to form new rhysh, for a Waynhim without community is a lorn thing, deprived of meaning. And therefore,” he concluded, “we are desperate in all sooth. We are the last. After us there will be no more.”
“But why?” Covenant asked his knotted hands and the blurred light, his voice as thick as blood in his throat. “Why did they attack — ? After all those centuries?”
“Because- ” Hamako replied; and now he did falter, caught by the pain behind his resolve. “Because we gave you shelter-and with you that making of the ur-viles which they name Vain.”
Covenant's head jerked up, eyes afire with protests. This crime at least should not be laid to his charge, though instinctively he believed it. He had never learned how to repudiate any accusation. But at once Hamako said, “Ah, no, Thomas Covenant, Your pardon. I have led you to miscomprehend me.” His voice resumed the impenetrable gentleness of a man who had lost too much. “The fault was neither yours nor ours. Even at Lord Foul's command the ur-viles would not have wrought such harm upon us for merely sheltering you and any companion. Do not think it. Their rage had another source.”
“What was it?” Covenant breathed. “What in hell happened?”
Hamako shrugged at the sheer simplicity of the answer. “It was their conviction that you gained from us an explanation of Vain Demondim-spawn's purpose.”
“But I didn't!” objected Covenant. “You wouldn't tell me.”
The Waynhim had commanded Hamako to silence. He had only replied, Were I to reveal the purpose of this Demondim-spawn, that revelation could well prevent the accomplishment of his purpose. And, That purpose is greatly desirable.