other living being .
“Indeed.” The Insequent’s voice was deep and fertile; ripe with avarice. He met her gaze like a man who yearned to devour her. “My knowledge encompasses both his hiding place and the means by which he has remained hidden. And I am able to move at will from one place to another in this time, as the foolish Mahdoubt has informed you.”
For moments that felt long to Linden’s unwilling nerves, Covenant did not respond to the aliantha on his tongue. But Mahrtiir was patient. And even if Covenant did not swallow, his mouth itself would absorb some of the berry’s virtue.
“The Worm of the World’s End is coming,” she replied to the Harrow, speaking as distinctly as the quaver in her heart allowed. “There’s nothing you can do about it. Does that make you re-think anything? Anything at all? Do you still want what I have?”
Did he still covet the responsibility implied by the Staff of Law and Covenant’s ring?
Suspense gathered around Covenant and the Manethrall. The Giants and the Humbled, the Cords and Liand and even the Ranyhyn studied the fallen Timewarden for some sign that the fruit’s rich juice or Mahrtiir’s ministrations might unclose his throat.
Linden felt the collective sigh of the Swordmainnir as Covenant swallowed reflexively.
The Manethrall bowed his head over Covenant for a moment. Then he readied another treasure-berry.
“I do, lady,” answered the Harrow avidly. “And I am not as ignorant of the Worm as Infelice chooses to imagine. The Earth’s ruin need not transpire as she asserts that it must. With the powers that you will enable me to wield, and by means which the Elohim fear to contemplate, I will demonstrate that no doom is inevitable—apart from the destruction which falls upon those who dare to oppose me.”
“All right.” Linden took a moment to confirm that she was sure. But the possibility that Covenant might awaken did not affect her decision. She needed to take one more absolute risk. Nothing less would serve her now. And she knew the cost of trying to escape her burdens. “If you’re that arrogant—or that blind—or that clever—tell me what you’ll offer in exchange.”
Without visible transition, Infelice stood in the air near Linden and the Harrow, floating so that she could face him directly with her gleaming indignation—or so that she could fling her distress down at Linden.
An instant later, the whole vale was transformed as a host of Wraiths came streaming into the hollow from every direction. Warmly they lit the dark. In spite of herself, Linden turned her head, expecting to see scores or hundreds of dancing eldritch candle-flames rush toward her as if they had been summoned by the possibility of conflict between the Elohim and the Insequent.
But they did not appear to be aware of her; or of Infelice and the Harrow. Instead they gathered around Mahrtiir and Covenant.
Infelice demanded Linden’s attention. “Linden Avery,” she protested in anguish and ire, “Wildwielder, you must not. Does the harm of this night fail to content you? The Insequent speaks of forces which he cannot comprehend. He will hasten the reaving of the Elohim and accomplish no worthy purpose. He will merely gain for himself a scant, false glory while the world falls.”
Stave ignored the Elohim . He did not glance at the Wraiths or Covenant. As if Infelice had not spoken, he said inflexibly, “Be wary, Chosen. I mislike the word of this Insequent. And the exchange which you contemplate is unequal in his favor. It may be greatly so. With wild magic and Law, perhaps wielded through High Lord Loric’s krill , he will acquire an imponderable might—and you will receive only your son. He may prove powerless against the Worm, and still wreak untold havoc ere the end, leaving naught but despair to those who briefly retain their lives.”
Linden hardly heard either of them. Held by surprise at the return of the Wraiths, she watched them bob and
“Indeed.” The Insequent’s voice was deep and fertile; ripe with avarice. He met her gaze like a man who yearned to devour her. “My knowledge encompasses both his hiding place and the means by which he has remained hidden. And I am able to move at will from one place to another in this time, as the foolish Mahdoubt has informed you.”
For moments that felt long to Linden’s unwilling nerves, Covenant did not respond to the aliantha on his tongue. But Mahrtiir was patient. And even if Covenant did not swallow, his mouth itself would absorb some of the berry’s virtue.
“The Worm of the World’s End is coming,” she replied to the Harrow, speaking as distinctly as the quaver in her heart allowed. “There’s nothing you can do about it. Does that make you re-think anything? Anything at all? Do you still want what I have?”
Did he still covet the responsibility implied by the Staff of Law and Covenant’s ring?
Suspense gathered around Covenant and the Manethrall. The Giants and the Humbled, the Cords and Liand and even the Ranyhyn studied the fallen Timewarden for some sign that the fruit’s rich juice or Mahrtiir’s ministrations might unclose his throat.
Linden felt the collective sigh of the Swordmainnir as Covenant swallowed reflexively.
The Manethrall bowed his head over Covenant for a moment. Then he readied another treasure-berry.
“I do, lady,” answered the Harrow avidly. “And I am not as ignorant of the Worm as Infelice chooses to imagine. The Earth’s ruin need not transpire as she asserts that it must. With the powers that you will enable me to wield, and by means which the Elohim fear to contemplate, I will demonstrate that no doom is inevitable—apart from the destruction which falls upon those who dare to oppose me.”
“All right.” Linden took a moment to confirm that she was sure. But the possibility that Covenant might awaken did not affect her decision. She needed to take one more absolute risk. Nothing less would serve her now. And she knew the cost of trying to escape her burdens. “If you’re that arrogant—or that blind—or that clever—tell me what you’ll offer in exchange.”
Without visible transition, Infelice stood in the air near Linden and the Harrow, floating so that she could face him directly with her gleaming indignation—or so that she could fling her distress down at Linden.
An instant later, the whole vale was transformed as a host of Wraiths came streaming into the hollow from every direction. Warmly they lit the dark. In spite of herself, Linden turned her head, expecting to see scores or hundreds of dancing eldritch candle-flames rush toward her as if they had been summoned by the possibility of conflict between the Elohim and the Insequent.
But they did not appear to be aware of her; or of Infelice and the Harrow. Instead they gathered around Mahrtiir and Covenant.
Infelice demanded Linden’s attention. “Linden Avery,” she protested in anguish and ire, “Wildwielder, you must not. Does the harm of this night fail to content you? The Insequent speaks of forces which he cannot comprehend. He will hasten the reaving of the Elohim and accomplish no worthy purpose. He will merely gain for himself a scant, false glory while the world falls.”
Stave ignored the Elohim . He did not glance at the Wraiths or Covenant. As if Infelice had not spoken, he said inflexibly, “Be wary, Chosen. I mislike the word of this Insequent. And the exchange which you contemplate is unequal in his favor. It may be greatly so. With wild magic and Law, perhaps wielded through High Lord Loric’s krill , he will acquire an imponderable might—and you will receive only your son. He may prove powerless against the Worm, and still wreak untold havoc ere the end, leaving naught but despair to those who briefly retain their lives.”
Linden hardly heard either of them. Held by surprise at the return of the Wraiths, she watched them bob and
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