still asleep—as if the
diamondraught
’s hold over her could not be breached by any desperation.
But when he set her on her feet, her eyes fluttered open. Groggily she ran her fingers through her hair, pulled it back from her face. Shadows glazed her eyes; she looked like a woman who was walking in her dreams. A yawn stretched her mouth. She appeared unaware of the pain sprawling at her feet.
Then abruptly she sank down beside the dying Giant as though her knees had failed. She bowed her head, and her hair swung forward to hide her face again.
Rigid with useless impatience, the First clenched her fists on her hips. Galewrath glared back at the lamps. Honninscrave turned away as if he could not bear the sight, began whispering commands. His tone made the crew obey with alacrity.
Linden remained bowed over the Giant as if she were praying. The noise of the crew in the wreckage, the creaking of the
dromond
’s granite, the muffled crackle of ice made what she was saying inaudible. Then her voice came into clearer focus.
“—but the spinal cord is all right. If you splint her back, strap her down, the bones should mend.”
Galewrath nodded stiffly, glowering as if she knew there was more to be said.
The next moment, a tremor ran through Linden. Her head jerked up.
“Her heart’s bleeding. A broken rib—” Her eyes cast a white blind stare into the dark.
Through her teeth, the First breathed, “Succor her, Chosen. She must not die. Three others have lost life this night. There must not be a fourth.”
Linden went on staring. Her voice had a leaden sound, as though she were almost asleep again. “How? I could open her up, but she’d lose too much blood. And I don’t have any sutures.”
“
Chosen
.” The First knelt opposite Linden, took hold of her shoulders. “I know nothing of these ‘sutures.’ Your healing surpasses me altogether. I know only that she must die if you do not aid her swiftly.”
In response, Linden gazed dully across the deck like a woman who had lost interest
“Linden!” Covenant croaked at last. “
Try
.”
Her sight swam into focus on him, and he saw glints of light pass like motes of vision across the dark background of her eyes. “Come,” she said faintly. “Come here.”
All his muscles were wooden with suppressed dismay; but he forced himself to obey. Beside the dying Giant, he faced Linden. “What do you—?”
Her expression stopped him. Her features wore the look of dreams. Without a word, she reached out, caught his halfhand by the wrist, stretched his arm like a rod over the Giant’s pain.
Before he could react, she frowned sharply; and a blare of violation ripped across his mind.
In a rush, fire poured from his ring. Wild magic threw back the night, washing the foredeck with incandescence.
He recoiled in shock rather than pain; her hold did not hurt him. Yet it bereft him of choice. Without warning, all his preconceptions were snatched apart. Everything changed. Once before, in the cavern of the One Tree, she had exerted his power for herself; but he had hardly dared consider the implications. Now her percipience had grown so acute that she could wield his ring without his bare volition. And it
was
a violation. Mhoram had said to him,
You are the white gold
. Wild magic had become a crucial part of his identity, and no one else had the right to use it, control it.
Yet he did not know how to resist her. Her grasp on what she was doing was impenetrable. Already she had set fire to the Giant’s chest as if she intended to burn out the woman’s heart.
Around the Giantship, every sound fell away, absorbed by fire. The First and Galewrath shaded their eyes against the blaze, watched the Chosen with mute astonishment. Linden’s mouth formed mumbling shapes as she worked, but no words came. Her gaze was buried deep in the flames. Covenant could feel himself dying.
For one moment, the Giant writhed against his thighs. Then she took a heavy, shuddering
diamondraught
’s hold over her could not be breached by any desperation.
But when he set her on her feet, her eyes fluttered open. Groggily she ran her fingers through her hair, pulled it back from her face. Shadows glazed her eyes; she looked like a woman who was walking in her dreams. A yawn stretched her mouth. She appeared unaware of the pain sprawling at her feet.
Then abruptly she sank down beside the dying Giant as though her knees had failed. She bowed her head, and her hair swung forward to hide her face again.
Rigid with useless impatience, the First clenched her fists on her hips. Galewrath glared back at the lamps. Honninscrave turned away as if he could not bear the sight, began whispering commands. His tone made the crew obey with alacrity.
Linden remained bowed over the Giant as if she were praying. The noise of the crew in the wreckage, the creaking of the
dromond
’s granite, the muffled crackle of ice made what she was saying inaudible. Then her voice came into clearer focus.
“—but the spinal cord is all right. If you splint her back, strap her down, the bones should mend.”
Galewrath nodded stiffly, glowering as if she knew there was more to be said.
The next moment, a tremor ran through Linden. Her head jerked up.
“Her heart’s bleeding. A broken rib—” Her eyes cast a white blind stare into the dark.
Through her teeth, the First breathed, “Succor her, Chosen. She must not die. Three others have lost life this night. There must not be a fourth.”
Linden went on staring. Her voice had a leaden sound, as though she were almost asleep again. “How? I could open her up, but she’d lose too much blood. And I don’t have any sutures.”
“
Chosen
.” The First knelt opposite Linden, took hold of her shoulders. “I know nothing of these ‘sutures.’ Your healing surpasses me altogether. I know only that she must die if you do not aid her swiftly.”
In response, Linden gazed dully across the deck like a woman who had lost interest
“Linden!” Covenant croaked at last. “
Try
.”
Her sight swam into focus on him, and he saw glints of light pass like motes of vision across the dark background of her eyes. “Come,” she said faintly. “Come here.”
All his muscles were wooden with suppressed dismay; but he forced himself to obey. Beside the dying Giant, he faced Linden. “What do you—?”
Her expression stopped him. Her features wore the look of dreams. Without a word, she reached out, caught his halfhand by the wrist, stretched his arm like a rod over the Giant’s pain.
Before he could react, she frowned sharply; and a blare of violation ripped across his mind.
In a rush, fire poured from his ring. Wild magic threw back the night, washing the foredeck with incandescence.
He recoiled in shock rather than pain; her hold did not hurt him. Yet it bereft him of choice. Without warning, all his preconceptions were snatched apart. Everything changed. Once before, in the cavern of the One Tree, she had exerted his power for herself; but he had hardly dared consider the implications. Now her percipience had grown so acute that she could wield his ring without his bare volition. And it
was
a violation. Mhoram had said to him,
You are the white gold
. Wild magic had become a crucial part of his identity, and no one else had the right to use it, control it.
Yet he did not know how to resist her. Her grasp on what she was doing was impenetrable. Already she had set fire to the Giant’s chest as if she intended to burn out the woman’s heart.
Around the Giantship, every sound fell away, absorbed by fire. The First and Galewrath shaded their eyes against the blaze, watched the Chosen with mute astonishment. Linden’s mouth formed mumbling shapes as she worked, but no words came. Her gaze was buried deep in the flames. Covenant could feel himself dying.
For one moment, the Giant writhed against his thighs. Then she took a heavy, shuddering
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