Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

Her son’s voice trailed away. His gaze avoided hers.

For a long moment, Linden did not move. In spite of his discomfort, she probed him with every dimension of her senses, trying to see past the barriers which concealed him. Yet her percipience remained useless with him. He was sealed against her.

The ur-Lord has ever been closed to the Haruchai. And his companion is likewise hidden.

All right,” she told Jeremiah finally. “I’ll do that.”

Slapping her palms on her thighs in an effort to shift her attention, she rose to her feet and retrieved the Staff. With its clean wood almost delitescent in her hands, its lenitive powers obscured, she took a few steps across the fading light of the room so that she could confront Covenant directly.

Her detachment was gone; but she had other strengths.

When Covenant dragged his gaze up from his flagon, she began harshly, “You’re the one with all the answers. Start by telling me why you’re doing this. I mean to him .” She indicated Jeremiah. “He hurts worse when he feels it like this,” from the outside. He had said so. “If you really have the answers, you don’t need him. You’re making him suffer for nothing.”

After everything that he had already endured-

“For God’s sake,” she protested, “he’s just a boy . He didn’t choose any of this. Tell me you have a good reason for causing him more pain.”

Covenant’s mien had a drowsy cast in the dying firelight. He seemed to be falling asleep where he sat. In a blurred voice, he replied as if his reasons should have been obvious to her, “I did it so you would trust me.

“I know how this looks to you, Linden. I know I’m not the way you remember me. Too much has happened. And I’m under too much strain-” He lifted his shoulders wearily. “I knew how you would react when you saw how much I’ve changed. So I tried to think of something-I don’t know what to call it-something to demonstrate my good faith.

“I wanted to show you I can give him back. I have that much power. And I know how to do it. If you just trust me.”

“But he-” she objected, trying to find words for her dismay.

“-isn’t any worse off than he was before,” Covenant sighed. Not really. If you think what I’ve done is so terrible, ask him if he regrets being here. Ask him if he regrets anything.”

Before Linden could turn to her son, Jeremiah said, “He’s right, Mom. I don’t regret it, any of it. If he hadn’t brought me with him, I wouldn’t be able to see you. We couldn’t talk. I wouldn’t know you’re trying so hard to rescue me.”

Jeremiah’s response struck her indignation to dust. For at least half of his life, he had given her no direct sign that he was aware of her protective presence-yet now he was willing to endure torments and anguish so that he could speak to her. She had not lavished her love on him in vain.

While she struggled with her emotions, Covenant continued, “I can see what happened to you. That hole in your shirt makes it pretty obvious. And I know you’re worried about him. I can understand that.” He sounded strangely like a man who was trying to convince himself. “Unfortunately I can’t tell you if he was shot. I would if I could. But I wasn’t there. I’m not part of that reality.”

Slowly Linden regained her resolve. She had lost her detachment, and Jeremiah had rendered her protests meaningless. But she was still herself; still able to think and act. And Covenant’s answers disturbed her. They were like a song sung slightly out of tune: instead of soaring, they grated.

She took a moment to turn away and toss another couple of logs onto the fire. She needed better light. Her health-sense was useless: she had to rely on ordinary sight and hearing.

As the new wood began to blaze, she faced the Unbeliever once more. All right,” she said unsteadily. “You can’t tell me if Jeremiah was shot. You can’t tell me where he is. What can you tell me?”

Covenant squinted vaguely at the rising flames. “What do you want to know?”

Linden did not hesitate. “It was Kastenessen who convinced the Demondim to let my friends and me reach Revelstone. You said that you and Jeremiah were able to get here because you tricked them.” I put a crimp in their reality. But how can I be sure that that wasn’t Kastenessen’s doing too?”

Earlier she had believed that Covenant and Jeremiah were being herded rather than pursued.

She expected a flare of anger; but Covenant only peered into his flagon as though its contents meant more to him than her implied accusation. “Because he didn’t know we were coming. He couldn’t. I didn’t start on all this-what we’re doing now-until I knew you were safe.

“When he realised we were on our way here-” Covenant offered her a slack smile. “That made him mad as hell. He was beside himself.” Turning his head, he winked at Jeremiah. “Practically in two places at once.” When Jeremiah grinned, Covenant returned his attention to his flagon. “But you have to remember-He can’t communicate with those damn monsters. The only way he can talk to them is through the old man.” Covenant shrugged. “Since yesterday, that poor lunatic hasn’t been available.”

Abruptly Linden sagged. Hardly aware of what she did, she sank into a chair. Relief left her weak. Deep in her heart, she had been so afraid-Now Covenant had given her a reason to believe in him.

But he was not done. While she tried to gather herself, he said, You might ask why I didn’t make us just appear here .” He sounded dull with drink, sleepy, almost bored. “Riding in ahead of the Demondim was pretty risky. But I wanted a chance to mess with their reality. They can use the damn IIIearth Stone whenever they want. I had to make sure they didn’t attack too soon.

“And I was afraid of you.” He drank again, unsteadily. A little springwine sloshed down his cheeks. “If we took you by surprise-if you didn’t see us coming-you might do something to erase us. I couldn’t take that chance.” He nodded toward Jeremiah. “This isn’t something I could do twice. Kastenessen knows about us now. Hellfire, Linden, Foul himself knows. Neither of them would have any trouble stopping us. Not when I’m stretched this thin.”

By degrees, Linden’s weakness ebbed. At last, something made sense to her. She could follow Covenant’s explanation. Only the imprecise pitch of his voice inhibited her from believing him completely.

Because of his strangeness, she found an unforeseen comfort in the knowledge that he had reason to fear her.

When he was done, she nodded. “All right. I get that. But I had to ask. I’m sure you understand.”

For a moment, Jeremiah turned his grin on her. But Covenant did not reply. Instead he replenished his flagon.

With an effort, she mustered a different question. She had so many-If she did not keep him talking, he might drink himself to sleep.

“So what’s it like?” she asked quietly. “Being part of the Arch of Time?”

“I’m sorry, Linden.” He raised his flagon as if he were driving himself toward unconsciousness. “It’s like Jeremiah’s pain. There aren’t any words for it. It’s too vast, and I’m everywhere at once.

“I feel like I know the One Forest and the Worm of the World’s End and even,” he drawled, “poor ol’ Lord Foul better than I know myself. If you asked me the names of all the Sandgorgons-or what Berek had for breakfast the day he turned against his King-I could probably tell you. If I didn’t have to work so hard just to stay where I am. And,” he concluded, “if I actually cared about things like that.”

Studying him closely-the increasing looseness of his cheeks, the deepening glaze in his eyes, the mounting slur of his speech-Linden said, “Then I’ll try to be more specific. I don’t understand why the caesures haven’t already destroyed everything.