Unlike Sunder's former life, Hollian's had been one of acceptance rather than sacrifice. The delicate scars which laced her right palm were similar to the pale pain lattice on his left forearm, but she had never taken anyone else's blood. Yet since that time her role had been primarily one of support, aiding Sunder when he had first attuned himself to Memla's rukh during the company's journey toward Seareach as well as in his later use of the krill. It was he, guilt sore and vehement, who hated the Clave, fought it-and had been vindicated. He had struck necessary blows on behalf of the Land, showing himself a fit companion for Giants and Haruchai, Covenant and Linden. Now he bore himself with a new confidence; and the silver light seemed to shine bravely in his eyes, as though he knew that his father would have been proud of him.
HoIIian herself was proud of him. Her open gaze and gentle smile showed that she regretted nothing. The child she carried was a Joy to her. Yet Linden saw something plainly unfinished in the en Brand. Her emanations were now more complex than Sunder's. She looked like a woman who knew that she had not yet been tested. And she wanted that test, wanted to find the destiny which she wore about her like the raven wings of her lustrous hair. She was an eh-brand, rare in the Land. She wished to learn what such rareness meant.
Covenant gave Linden a glance of wry rue; but he accepted the untimely presence of the Stonedownors without protest. They were his friends, and his surety included them.
In response to Covenant's greeting, Sunder said with abrupt awkwardness, “Thomas Covenant, what is your purpose now?” His recent accomplishments had not given him an easy manner. “Forgive us that we intrude upon you. Your need for rest is plain.” His regard told Linden that her fatigue was more obvious than Covenant's. “Should you elect to remain here for any number of days, the choice would become you. In times past”- his scowl was a mix of self-mockery and regret- “I have questioned you, accusing you of every madness and all pain.” Covenant made a gesture of dismissal; but Sunder hastened to continue, “I do not question you now. You are the Earthfriend, IIIender and Prover of Life-and my friend. My doubt is gone.
“Yet,” he went on at once, “we have considered the Sunbane. The eh-brand foretells its course. With Sunstone and krill, I have felt its power. The quenching of Banefire and Clave is a great work-but the Sunbane is not diminished. The morrow's sun will be a sun of pestilence. It reigns still upon the Land, and its evil is clear.”
His voice gathered strength and determination as he spoke. “Thomas Covenant, you have taught me the falsehood of the Clave. I had believed the Land a gallow-fells, a punishing place conceived by a harsh Master. But I have learned that we are born for beauty rather than ill-that it is the Sunbane which is evil, not the life which the Sunbane torments.” His gaze glinted keenly. “Therefore I find that I am not content. The true battle is yet before us.” He was not as tall as Covenant; but he was broader and more muscular. He looked as solid as the stone of his home. “Thus I ask, what is your purpose now?”
The question distressed Covenant. His certainty could not protect him from his own empathy. He concealed his pain; but Linden saw it with her health-sense, heard it in the gruffness of his reply. “You're not content,” he muttered. “Nobody's content. Well, you ought to be.” Beneath the surface, he was as taut as a fraying bowstring. “You've done enough. You can leave the Sunbane to me-to me and Linden. I want you to stay here.”
“Stay-?” The Graveler was momentarily too surprised to understand. “Do you mean to depart from us?” Hollian placed a hand on his arm, not to restrain him, but to add her concern to his.
“Yes!” Covenant snapped more strongly than necessary. But at once he steadied himself. "Yes. That's what I want. You're the future of the Land. There's nobody else. The people the Clave let live are all too old or sick to do much, or too young to understand. You two are the only ones left who know what's happened, what it means. What the life of the Land should be like. If anything happens to you, most of the survivors won't even know the CIave was wrong. They'll go on believing those lies because there won't be anybody around to contradict them. I need you to tell them the truth. I can't risk you.”
Linden thought he would say, Please. Please. But Sunder's indignation was vivid in the sharp light. “Risk, ur-Lord?” he rasped as soon as Covenant stopped. “Is it risk you fear? Or do you deem us unworthy to partake of your high purpose? Do you forget who we are?” His hand gripped at the krill wrapped and hidden within his jerkin. "Your world is otherwhere, and to it you will return when your task is done. But we are the Land. We are the life which remains. We will not sit in safety while the outcome of that life is determined!”
Covenant stood still under Sunder's outburst; but the small muscles around his eyes flinched as if he wanted to shout, What's the matter with you? We're going to face Lord Foul! I'm trying to spare you! Yet his quietness held.
“You're right,” he said softly-more softly than Linden's desire to defend him. “You are the life of the Land. And I've already taken everything else away from you. Your homes, your families, your identities-I've spent them all and let you bear the cost. Don't you understand? I want to give something back. I want you to have a future.” The one thing he and Linden did not possess. “So your son will have at least that much chance to be born and grow up healthy.” The passion underlying his tone reminded her that he had a son whom he had not seen for eleven years. He might have been crying, Let me do this for you! "Is safety such a terrible price to pay?”
Hollian appeared to waver, persuaded by Covenant's unmistakable concern. But Sunder did not. His anger was swept out of him; his resolution remained. Thickly, he said, “Pardon my unseemly ire. Thomas Covenant, you are my friend in all ways. Will you grant to me your white ring, that I may ward you from the extremity of the Land's plight?” He did not need to wait for Covenant's answer. "Neither will I cede to you the meaning of my life. You have taught me to value that meaning too highly.”
Abruptly, he dropped his gaze. “If it is her wish, Hollian will abide here. The son she bears is ours together, but that choice must be hers.” Then his eyes fixed Covenant squarely again. “I will not part from you until I am content.”
For a moment, the Graveler and Covenant glared at each other; and Linden held her breath. But then Hollian broke the intensity. Leaning close to Sunder, grinning as if she meant to bite his ear, she breathed, “Son of Nassic, you have fallen far into folly if you credit that I will be divided from you in the name of simple safety.”
Covenant threw up his hands. “Oh, hell,” he muttered. “God preserve me from stubborn people.” He sounded vexed; but his frown had lost its seriousness.
Linden gave a sigh of relief. She caught Hollian's glance, and a secret gleam passed between them. With feigned brusqueness, she said, “We're going to leave at noon. You might as well go get ready. We'll meet you in the forehall.”
Allowing Covenant no opportunity to demur, she drew him into Mhoram's quarters and closed the door.
But later even through Revelstone's vital rock she felt the midday of the desert sun approaching; and her heart shrank from it. Sunder was right: the Sunbane had not been diminished. And she did not know how much more of it she could bear. She had stood up to it across the expanse of the North Plains. She had faced Gibbon-Raver, although his mere proximity had made the darkness in her writhe for release. But those exertions had pushed her to her limits. And she had had no sleep. The comfort of Covenant's love did many things for her, but it could not make her immune to weariness. In spite of the shielding Keep, a visceral dread seeped slowly into her.