Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

From his damaged perspective, he had no cause to love her-

An uncertain future in his natural world or a life of wholeness in the Land. The Power of Command would enable her to provide one or the other for her son. But that choice was not hers to make: it belonged to him. Either way, he would be lost her to her; but her bereavement was beside the point. She had already lost him. And he was not responsible for her dedication-or her sorrow.

Covenant was another matter entirely. He had lied to her. Deliberately he had tried to obscure the true crux of Jeremiah’s straits-and of her own.

She needed to talk to him. She needed to talk to him now.

But when she snatched down her hands and opened her eyes to the dying light, she found the Theomach standing in front of her.

Instinctively she clasped her numb fingers around the Staff. But she did not call upon its power. She felt no threat from the Insequent. To her health-sense, he still appeared to be an ordinary man beneath his strange habiliments; devoid of any inherent theurgy. If she had not fallen so far down into her grief and anger, she would have discerned him as soon as he approached her.

Instead of fire, she drew a little heat from the ready wood, a little comfort, so that she would not collapse into shivering.

She meant to demand, Tell me. I have to know. Why did Covenant lie to me? But before she could form the words, the Theomach held up his hand to forestall her. His wrapped and hidden face regarded her with an attitude of grave attention.

“Lady,” he said in his light voice, “understand that your son’s plight is not a simple matter-as yours is not. Even the Halfhand is not free of pain.

“I may say nothing of his designs. You must earn the knowledge that you seek. However,” he added as she started to protest, “I will accompany you now, if you will permit it. In recompense for your courtesy, I will answer any questions which do not undermine the integrity of Time, or of my own purposes.” Then he lowered his voice as if he did not wish to be overheard. “Also I will ease your passage through this winter, so that you need not hazard either your own fire or the Halfhand’s. Perhaps my aid will enable you to gain your destination with strength sufficient for what must be done.”

Linden stared at him. He had surprised her out of her immediate turmoil, but she did not forget it. And she was sick to death of people who sought to manipulate her by concealing the truth. However, she understood nothing about the Theomach-and he had offered to answer questions.

After a moment, she said stiffly, “I’m not sure that I want company.” Convince me. “Let’s start with this. If Covenant stays on your path-and I do-will I get a chance to find out what he isn’t telling me?”

The Theomach bowed as though her query signalled acquiescence. “Lady, I believe that you will. You have displayed cleverness, and perhaps wisdom as well. You will contrive opportunities to wrest what veracity you may from your companions.”

What veracity you may-Linden heard disturbing implications in the words, but she was too distraught to consider them. She already knew that she did not trust Covenant.

And her son had not been shot. He would live, whatever happened.

“In that case,” she replied, “I can’t pretend that I don’t need help. What can you do to make this easier?”

Her companion gestured along Covenant’s and Jeremiah’s trail. “Words will not demonstrate my intent. Walk and you will witness my aid.”

Linden stared at him for a moment longer. Then she sighed to herself. Gripping the Staff tensely in one hand, she resumed her long floundering trudge through the snow.

But she did not flounder: her boots did not break through the crust. Instead she found herself striding like the Theomach over the unreliable surface, unimpeded by brittle ice or clogging snow. The iron heel of the Staff struck the crust with a muted thud like a buried echo, but did not pierce it.

The change relieved her tired muscles and worn resolve more than she would have thought possible. She felt lighter, as though a portion of her mortal dross had been lifted from her. -with strength sufficient for what must be done. She had no idea what the Theomach meant; but now she could believe that she would be able to reach her immediate goal.

All right,” she said when she had passed back into the shadows and could see no more sunlight along her way. “That’s one promise you’ve kept. As long as you don’t vanish again-”

“I will not.” Her companion sounded mildly offended. “Here my path lies with yours. You serve my purpose. Therefore I must serve yours.”

“Good.” She nodded to herself several times, arranging her thoughts to the rhythm of strides and echoes. “In that case, I’ll try a few questions. I need something to think about besides the cold.” She meant, Besides Covenant’s lies and my son’s life.

As she walked, she continued to pull a gentle current of warmth and sustenance from the Staff. She needed more support than the Theomach could give her.

“As you wish, lady.” Now his tone suggested an admixture of satisfaction and secret relief. “I will answer as our circumstances permit.”

“The Theomach” seems a bit unwieldy,” Linden began. “Do you have a name?”

“I do. But it is not for your use.”

His words were brusque, although his manner was not.

She shrugged. “Never mind, then.” She had not expected him to reveal himself. “Since Jeremiah has already mentioned your people, maybe you can tell me something about them.

“Why do you hate the Elohim ? And what did the Vizard want with Jeremiah? Do your people really think that my son can build a trap,” a prison. “to hold the Elohim ?”

The Theomach replied with a shrug of his own. “Lady, we loathe the Elohim for their arrogance, and for their ease. Every other being that strides the Earth must strive for knowledge and power sedulously, at great cost. But the Elohim are power. They do not strive-and seldom encounter unease. Yet they do not scruple to determine the deeds and dooms of any striving being that mischances to attract their opprobrium.

“The differences between us are various and vast, but the chiefest is this. The Elohim have no hearts. I am not present in the Vizard’s thoughts. All of the Insequent hold their own counsel and knowledge, and some are spiteful. But where our interests oppose those of the Elohim , we are seldom petty. There larger concerns move us.”

For a moment, the Theomach walked beside Linden in silence, appearing to shift slightly in and out of definition with every step. Then he added, “Does your son possess both the knowledge and the prowess to devise a snare which the Elohim could not evade, and from which they would not escape? Of that I will not speak. It is a matter for another time. A distant time, lady.”

In the setting dark, Linden was slow to realise that the hills on either side of the valley had begun to slump away. But when she extended her health-sense, she felt the changing shapes of the terrain. Gradually the Last Hills were fading toward the flatland of the Centre Plains.

Vexed by all of the secrets that surrounded Jeremiah, she let a taste of acid into her voice. “Then I don’t suppose that you’ll tell me how you’re going to “humiliate” the Elohim yourself?”

“I will not.” Her tone did not ruffle the Theomach’s aura. “Were I to do so, you would feel the Arch of Time tremble to its roots. The Halfhand should not speak as he does.”

Linden took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. In an abstract sense, she understood his refusals and obfuscations. She was ten thousand years away from her own present. She could not begin to guess what the consequences of her actions might be. And inevitably her choices would be influenced by what she was told. Whatever the Theomach’s motives might be, they required him to strike a complex and ambiguous balance between his impulse to aid her and his determination to preserve the security of Time.