Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

Yet it was clear that he retained enough discernment, in spite of Kevin’s Dirt, to recognise that some thing had happened to her or changed for her. As she neared him, he bowed deeply, as if he felt that he owed her a new homage. And when he raised his eyes again, his chagrin was unmistakable, in spite of his fierce nature.

“Ringthane-” he began awkwardly. “Again you have surpassed me. You are exalted-”

“No, Mahrtiir.” Linden hastened to forestall his wonder. She was too lost, and too needy, to bear it. “It isn’t me. It’s Glimmermere. That’s what you’re seeing.” She attempted an unsuccessful smile. You don’t need to stay away from it. As soon as you touch the water, you’ll know what I mean. It belongs to the Land. To everyone. You won’t feel like an intruder. And it cleans away Kevin’s Dirt.

“I 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 defences 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.

“Ur-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.

“For that reason, however,” he continued, “the peril that the same spirit moves Esmer, and with him the ur-viles and Waynhim, cannot be discounted.

“Did Esmer reveal nothing of the ur-Lord, or of your son?”

“No,” 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.

“I mislike this confluence. Plainly the return of the Unbeliever from the Arch of Time holds great import. It appears to promise that the Land’s redemption is at hand. Yet his account of his coming troubles me. That he is able to cast a glamour of confusion upon the Demondim, I do not greatly question. However, his avowal concerning distortions of the Law of Time-” He hesitated momentarily, then said, “And Esmer’s grandsire connives with Demondim while Esmer himself removes Waynhim and ur-viles from their proper time.

“Chosen, here is cause for concern. It cannot lack meaning that such divergent events have occurred together.”

“Stave speaks sooth, Ringthane,” the Manethrall said in a low growl. “Esmer has been altered by your return to the Land. He is not as he was when he first gained the friendship of the Ramen. Had he answered you, his words would have held too much truth and falsehood to be of service.”

Linden agreed; but the thought did not comfort her. She had suffered too many shocks.

Jeremiah is here, but Foul still has him.

What you can’t see is how much it hurts that I’m not just here.

What were Esmer’s surprises-or his betrayals-compared to that?

Fiercely she set aside her failures. Supporting her resolve, if not her heart, on the Staff of Law, she met Stave’s flat gaze.

“I’m worried about the same things. Maybe Covenant can explain them.” Or perhaps the Mahdoubt might share her obscure knowledge. “Is he ready to see me yet? Has something else happened? I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“There is no new peril,” replied the Haruchai . “The Demondim remain in abeyance, without apparent purpose. But the ur-Lord has indeed announced his readiness to speak with you. I have been instructed to summon you.”

His manner suggested that he disliked being “instructed” by either Covenant or the Masters.

“Then let’s go.” At once, Linden started into motion. “Foul still has my son.” Somehow. “If I don’t do something about that soon, it’s going to tear me apart.”

Lord’s Keep was at least a league away.

Stave and the Manethrall joined her promptly, walking at her shoulders like guardians. She set a brisk pace, borne along by Glimmermere’s lingering potency; but they accompanied her easily. Either one of them could have reached Revelstone far more swiftly without her-

As they followed low valleys among the hills and trees, Linden asked Stave, “Did you find the Mahdoubt? Will she talk to me?”

The Haruchai shook his head. It is curious. It appears that the Mahdoubt has departed from Revelstone. How she might have done so is unclear. Demondim in abundance guard the gates, the passage to the plateau is watched, and Lord’s Keep has no other egress. Yet neither the Masters nor those who serve the Keep can name her whereabouts.

“I was shown to her chambers, but she was not there. And those who have known her cannot suggest where she might be found.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Nor are they able to account for her. Indeed, they profess to know nothing certain of her. They say only that she conveys the sense that they have always known her-and that she seldom attracts notice.”

Stave shrugged slightly. “In the thoughts of the Masters, she is merely a servant of Revelstone, unremarkable and unregarded. To me, also, she has appeared to be entirely ordinary. Yet her absence now demonstrates our error. At a time of less extreme hazard, the Masters would seek to grasp her mystery. While Revelstone remains besieged, however, their attention is compelled by the Demondim.”