Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

“Protect,” urged Anele, whispering as if he feared to speak more loudly. “Protect Anele. He is the Land’s hope. They will doom him.”

If Handir took umbrage, however, he did not show it. His countenance revealed nothing as he gazed past Linden at Mahrtiir.

“I do not say, Manethrall, that Linden Avery is false,” he answered flatly. “I say only that we must consider it.”

Then he faced her again. “Yet the state in which you have returned to us is beyond question. You now resemble the transformed Staff of Law. Darkness fills your heart. Indeed, you are as tinder, awaiting only a spark to achieve destruction. According to your tale, this alteration has been wrought by the Blood of the Earth and your son’s plight. Mayhap you have spoken truly. Yet the threat remains, regardless of its cause.

More than any of your companions, you may not safely roam the Land. You have become an avatar of woe and ire, and all of your deeds will conduce to evil.”

Gritting her teeth, Linden swallowed an impulse to say, If any of that is true, you might want to ask yourself why I’m not threatening you . When she had first entered Revelstone, Handir had assured her that the Masters could wrest her powers from her. She had believed him then: now she was not convinced. But she did not mean to respond with defiance. She simply wanted Handir to understand that she was not afraid. She had become a kind of Haruchai herself: like them, she could not be swayed.

Stiffly she asked. “Is there more?”

“There is,” he acknowledged. “A man who has shown himself greater than the Demondim is now among us. He is of the Insequent, as you have found to your cost. Yet in the spanning memory of the Haruchai , no Insequent has intruded upon the Land. In this, they resemble the Elohim . Heretofore both Elohim and Insequent have held themselves apart, except at the birth of Berek Halfhand’s High Lordship, and during the slow decline of the One Forest.

“Linden Avery, these are bleak auguries. And we have seen that the Harrow’s prowess exceeds you. If your own desires do not breed ruin, his craving for white gold and the Staff of Law will surely do so. To permit your departure will be to invoke calamity.”

There the Voice of the Masters stopped. He had said enough: Linden did not need to hear more in order to grasp the uncertainty of Stave’s kindred.

She felt surprise and confusion among Liand and the Ramen. They had not yet been told of her meeting with the Harrow, or of Stave’s tale, or of the Mahdoubt’s passing. Nevertheless Handir compelled her full attention. Because she needed some outlet for her bitterness, she asked, “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with the fact that Stave defied you by telling me about the Vizard and the Theomach?”

Handir regarded her without expression. “Stave has been adjudged. No further repudiation is seemly.”

After a moment, Linden nodded. In some ways, the worst part of Stave’s punishment was that the Masters no longer considered his actions to be of any consequence.

She was tempted to turn her back on them and their support. Let them continue to serve Lord Foul, in effect if not in intent, by clinging to their doubts in isolation. She would find some other way to leave the Keep. For the Land’s sake, however, more than for Jeremiah’s, she tried one last argument. She did not doubt that the Masters would be needed-

“All right,” she said harshly. “I think I understand why you don’t trust me. But there’s one thing that you haven’t explained.

“You weren’t able to beat the Demondim. If I hadn’t closed their caesure , you wouldn’t have been able to hold Revelstone. So what changed while I was away? What makes you think that now you can handle Esmer and Kastenessen and the skurj and Kevin’s Dirt and Falls and Roger Covenant and the Insequent, never mind Ravers and the Elohim and Joan’s ring and Corruption himself?

“Hasn’t it occurred to you yet that you need me? That you need all of us, and any other allies you can find?”

The Voice of the Masters shook his head. His countenance revealed nothing. Nonetheless some subtle shift in the quality of his intransigence gave his reply a faint patina of sadness.

“Still you do not comprehend our Mastery. We do not seek to prove ourselves equal to every peril which besets the Land. We seek only to forestall Desecration. Such evils may be performed only by those who wield power and love the Land and know despair.

“The true Thomas Covenant, ur-Lord and Unbeliever, charged us to preserve Revelstone. We will willingly spend our lives in the attempt. But our larger purpose does not require us to redeem the Land. It requires us to ensure that a new Landwaster does not commit a second Ritual of Desecration.”

In spite of her determination, Linden sagged. He was right: she had misapprehended the Masters. She had fixed her attention on the effects of what they had done; on their arrogance-As a result, she had missed the real point of Stave’s patient explanations. All of her attempts to persuade Handir and his kinsmen had been predicated on a misconception, an oblique error. She had faulted the application and results of their Mastery instead of addressing their fundamental concerns; and so her efforts to move them had failed.

Now it was too late. She could not promise Handir that his concerns were groundless; that she would never become another Landwaster. Too many people had seen darkness in her: she had seen it herself. Too many people feared that her intentions would lead to ruin rather than hope.

You have it within you to perform horrors.

Within her she holds the devastation of the Earth-

Doom awaits you in the company of the Dead.

All right, she tried to tell herself. She had failed here. She needed an entirely different approach. But for a few moments, she was caught and held by her regret for what her inadequacies had cost her. Standing before Handir, she bowed her head like an admission of defeat.

Her heart was stone: she was not beaten. But she needed a little time to recover her concentration.

While she tried to think of an alternative, Stave stepped forward unexpectedly. “It boots nothing to bandy words,” he said to Handir. “I propose a test of truth.”

A slight lift of Handir’s chin betrayed that Stave had surprised him.

While Liand fumbled in consternation at his pouch, Stave explained. “I do not suggest the use of orcrest . A challenge by Earthpower will not suffice among Haruchai . Rather I offer a test of truth by combat.”

“Stave, no,” Linden protested. She had not forgotten the blows which he had already received from his kinsmen.

“I have no wish to cause harm,” he said, holding Handir’s gaze. “And it is certain that the Chosen does not, for she comprehends that the Land requires the Haruchai . Therefore I will confront any three of the Masters. Let each in turn assail me. If I drive each from his feet and do not fall, you will permit the Chosen to depart. If I am thrown and any of the three remains standing, she will withdraw to the plateau and seek her son’s salvation by some other means.”

Before the Voice of the Masters could speak, Galt replied with unwonted eagerness, “The Humbled accept this contest.” Apparently he, Clyme, and Branl had seen a personal affront in Stave’s actions or attitude.

“ Damn it, Stave,” Linden muttered; but she knew of no argument that he would heed. His offer did not commit her to anything which would block her search for another egress. And after all that he had done for her, she could not say aloud that she believed he would fall.