Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

Liand nodded. Although he frowned darkly, he accepted her reasoning.

After another moment, Stave unfolded his arms if he were readying himself for combat. “You have informed the ur-Lord that you intend to make use of the Staff. What will you attempt?”

Linden pressed her cheek against the comforting strictures of the Staff. “I’ll tell you,” she promised. “Before you go,” before she was left alone with her mourning, “we’ll make our own plans. But this whole day”- she grimaced- “has taken a lot out of me. I need a little time.”

Across the table, she faced Liand and the Ramen. “And you have something to tell me. I can feel it. Something happened to you-something more than Glimmermere. If you’re willing to talk about it, I want to hear what it was.”

At once, as if she had prodded a forgotten worry, Mahrtiir, Bhapa, Pahni, and Liand became restless. Anele appeared unaware that Linden had spoken, and Stave betrayed no reaction. But hesitation clouded the eyes of the others. None of them looked at her directly. Liand studied his hands, Bhapa frowned at the hearth as though the flames puzzled him, and Pahni focused her attention anxiously on Liand. Only Mahrtiir conveyed a sense of anticipation; but he closed his eyes and scowled fiercely, apparently attempting to conceal what he felt.

Then, however, the Manethrall opened his eyes to meet Linden’s gaze. “We scruple to reply,” he said roughly. “because we have no wish to augment the burdens which you must bear. Yet I deem it false friendship to withhold what has transpired. Therefore I will answer.

“When I parted from you, some time passed while I gathered together the Cords, the Stonedownor, and Anele so that I might guide them to Glimmermere. Together we traversed the impending stone until at last we regained the open sky of the plateau.

“There we beheld rainfall upon the mountains, and a storm gathering. But we have no fear of the world’s weather. Rather we rejoiced that we were freed from stone and constraint. And we had grown eager for the sight of Glimmermere. Therefore we made haste among the hills, that we might gain the eldritch tarn swiftly.

As we did so, Anele appeared to accompany us willingly”- Liand and Pahni nodded in confirmation- “though you had informed us that he would eschew the waters. He spoke constantly to himself as we hastened-” For a moment, Mahrtiir dropped his gaze as if he felt a touch of chagrin. It may be that we should have attended to his words. You have informed us that his madness is altered by that which lies beneath his feet. Some insight might have been gleaned from him.” Then the Manethrall looked at Linden again. “But we have grown accustomed to his muttering, which is largely incomprehensible to us. And our eagerness distracted us. We were grateful only that he kept pace without urging.”

Linden stared at him. The grass. Damn it, she thought, the grass . The region above Revelstone was not as lush as the Verge of Wandering, but its emerald and fertile greensward resembled the tall grass of that valley. And she had given not one moment’s consideration to how walking across the upland might affect the old man. She had been so shaken by her meeting with Esmer-and so apprehensive about talking to Covenant and Jeremiah-

“I made the same mistake,” she admitted to assuage her own chagrin. “We’ve all had a lot on our minds. Please go on.”

“Nonetheless,” Mahrtiir asserted severely, “the old man was altered. Failing to observe him clearly, we failed both him and you.

“I will not prolong my preamble. Together we gained the shores of the tarn. There we cast no reflection upon the waters, although Anele’s image was plainly visible. True to your word, he would not partake of Glimmermere’s benison. When we drank, however-when we had bathed and been transformed-”

Abruptly the Manethrall stopped, caught by a resurgence of his earlier reluctance.

Leaning forward earnestly, Liand explained on Mahrtiir’s behalf, “Linden, Anele spoke to us. He has not done so ere now. Always his moments of clear speech have been directed to you, or have been uttered in your name.” Bewilderment filled the Stonedownor’s face. “Upon the verges of Glimmermere, however, he addressed each of us in turn. And his manner of speaking-”

When Liand stumbled, Mahrtiir forced himself to resume. His voice was husky as he said, “Ringthane, it appeared to us that his voice resembled his fashion of speech when he accosted you in the Verge of Wandering, before fire and fury possessed him, and he was struck down for your preservation. And his words held such gentleness and sorrow that our hearts were wrung to hear him.”

Linden blinked in shock. Was it possible? Had Covenant spoken to her friends through Anele? Had they heard his voice? Felt his love? While she had been alone with him and her son, struggling to make sense of their strangeness, their disturbing evasions, their glimpses of scorn?

Oh, Linden. I’m so glad to see you.

Covenant had claimed or implied that he was exercising his relationship with Time for several different purposes at once, simultaneously making himself and Jeremiah manifest in Revelstone, seeking the means to oppose Kastenessen, and defending the Arch against Joan’s caesures . Could he also have taken possession of Anele; addressed her friends with “gentleness and sorrow”?

Or-

Not to mention some of the other powers that have noticed what’s happening here and want to take advantage of it.

— were there other beings at work? Forces other than Kastenessen and the Demondim and Esmer and the Elohim ? Was some foe whom she had never met endeavouring to manipulate her friends?

Linden, find me. I can’t help you unless you find me.

Oh, God, she thought; groaned. Who’s doing this? How many lies have we been told?

Nevertheless this new surprise galvanised her. Her lassitude vanished: even her inward storm was pushed aside. Throughout her encounter with Covenant, he had sounded subtly false; insidiously out of tune. If Jeremiah had become so much more than the boy whom she had known, Covenant had seemed to be less than himself. The voice that had spoken to her through Anele-like the voice in her dreams-had felt far more true than Covenant himself did.

You need the ring.

Dreaming, she had heard Covenant urge her to trust herself.

“Tell me,” she told the Manethrall and Liand intently. “If that was Covenant-or even if it just sounded like him-I need to know what he said.”

The words themselves might reveal who had spoken them.

In a formal tone, Mahrtiir responded, “First he addressed us generally. His words were these.” Then he altered his voice to produce an unexpected imitation of Covenant’s. “I can only say all of this once. And I can’t explain it. As soon as he notices what I’m doing, he’ll stop me. If I even start to say his name, he’ll stop me before I can finish.

“She can do this. Tell her I said that. It’s hard now. And it’s going to get harder. She’ll have to go places and do things that ought to be impossible. But I think she can do it. And there’s no one else who can even make the attempt.”

The Manethrall paused. When Liand and the Cords nodded, confirming his recitation, he resumed.

“Anele’s possessor then spoke to Liand, saying, “I wish I could spare you. Hell, I wish any of us could spare you. But I can’t see any way around it. What you need is in the Aumbrie. Stave will show you where that is, whether the Masters want him to or not. You’ll know what you’re looking for when you touch it.”

The Aumbrie ? Linden gripped the Staff; stifled an interruption. The Aumbrie of the Clave ? She had never seen that hidden storeroom herself. But she had heard from Covenant that Vain had found his way to the Aumbrie, seeking the iron bands which had formed the heels of Berek’s original Staff of Law.