Fatal Revenant by Stephen R. Donaldson Page B

It belongs to the Land. To everyone. You won’t feel like an intruder. And it cleans away Kevin’s Dirt.
    â€œI can’t use my Staff right now.” She frowned at the wood in frustration. “You know that. I can’t protect us from being blinded, any of us. But as long as we can go to Glimmermere—”
    When they knew the truth, Liand, Bhapa, and Pahni would be delighted. Anele, on the other hand—Linden sighed. He would avoid the lake strenuously. He feared anything that might threaten his self-imposed plight. And his defenses were strong. He would use every scrap of his inborn might to preserve the peculiar integrity of his madness.
    As Stave came closer, she promised the Manethrall quietly, “You’ll get your chance. I’ll make sure of it.”
    The Raman bowed again. “My thanks, Ringthane.” Wryly he added, “Doubtless you have observed that the pride of the Ramen runs hotly within me. I do not contain it well.”
    Hurrying to put the matter behind her, Linden said again, “Don’t worry about it. I respect your pride. It’s better than shame. And we have more important problems.”
    Mahrtiir nodded. He may have thought that he knew what she meant.
    A moment later, Stave reached the Manethrall’s side. He, too, bowed as if in recognition of some ineffable alteration, an elevation at once too subtle and too profound for Linden to acknowledge. “Chosen,” he said with his familiar flatness, “the waters of Glimmermere have served you well. You have been restored when none could have known that you had been diminished.”
    He had cleaned the blood from his face, but he still wore his spattered tunic and his untended bruises as if they were a reproach to the Masters. His single eye gave his concentration a prophetic cast, as if in losing half of his vision he had gained a supernal insight.
    Did he see her accurately? Had she in fact gleaned something sacramental from the lake? Something untainted by her encounter with Esmer’s ambiguous loyalties?
    She shrugged the question aside. It could not change her choices—or the risks that she meant to take.
    Without preamble, she replied, “I was just about to tell Mahrtiir that something happened after I—” She had no words adequate to the experience. “I wanted to talk to somebody who could tell me what’s going on, so I called Esmer.” Awkwardly she explained, “I have no idea what he can and can’t do. I thought that he might be able to hear me.”
    While Stave studied her, and Mahrtiir stared with open surprise, she described as concisely as she could what Cail’s son had said and done.
    â€œUr-viles,” the Manethrall breathed when she was finished, “and Waynhim. So many—and together. Have these creatures indeed come to your aid? Do they suffice against the Teeth of the Render?”
    Stave appeared to consult the air. With his tongue, he made a sound that suggested vexation. “The actions of these Demondim-spawn are unexpected,” he said aloud, “but no more so than those of their makers. If the spirit of Kastenessen is able to possess our companion Anele, much is explained.”
    Our companion—Linden could not remember hearing Stave speak the old man’s name before. Apparently the former Master had extended his friendship to include all of her comrades.
    â€œFor that reason, however,” he continued, “the peril that the same spirit moves Esmer, and with him the ur-viles and Waynhim, cannot be discounted.
    â€œDid Esmer reveal nothing of the ur-Lord, or of your son?”
    â€œNo,” she muttered bitterly. “I asked him whether Kastenessen helped Covenant and Jeremiah reach Revelstone, but he just changed the subject.”
    Mahrtiir opened his mouth, then closed it again grimly. Stave had more to say.
    â€œI mislike this confluence. Plainly the return of the Unbeliever from the