Stephen Donaldson: White Gold Wielder

They thought they were saving the world when they put their hands in that fire.

“They didn't snap out of it until you interrupted them.”

Linden understood his dismay, his anger. But she had passed the crisis. Without turning, she said, “They were like Joan. They hated themselves-their lives, their poverty, their ineffectuality.” Like my parents. “It made them crazy.” She yearned with pity for the people who had done this to Covenant.

“I suppose so,” Dr. Berenford sighed. “It wouldn't be the first time.” Then he resumed, “Anyway, I left Mrs. Jason in Emergency and got the Sheriff. He didn't exactly believe me-but he came out to Haven Farm anyway. We found Joan. She was asleep in the house. When we woke her up, she didn't remember a thing. But she looked like she had her mind back. I couldn't tell. At least she wasn't violent anymore.

“I made the Sheriff take her to the hospital Then I came looking for you.”

Again he swallowed at his distress. “I didn't want him with me. I didn't want him to think you were responsible for this.”

At that, she looked toward him in wonder. His concern for her-his desire to spare her the conclusions which the Sheriff might draw from finding her alone with Covenant's body-touched the spring of something new in her; and it opened as if it were blossoming. His face had sagged under the weight of his baffled care; he appeared reluctant to meet her gaze. But he was a good roan; and when she looked at him she saw that Covenant's spirit was not dead. Without knowing it, he showed her the one true way to say Farewell She placed her hand on his shoulder. Softly, she said, “Don't blame yourself. You couldn’t have known what would happen. And he got what he wanted most. He made himself innocent.” Then she leaned on him so that she could rise to her feet The sunlight felt warm and kind to her weariness. Above the bare slopes of me hollow stood trees wreathed in the new green of spring, buoyant, ineffable, and clean. In this world also there was health to be served, hurts to be healed.

When the older man joined her, she said, “Come on. We've got work to do. Mrs. Jason and her kids weren't the only ones. We have a lot more burned hands to take care of.”

After a moment. Dr. Berenford nodded. “I'll tell the Sheriff where to find him. At least we can make sure he gets a decent burial.”

“Yes,” she answered. The sun filled her eyes with brightness. Together, she and her companion started up the barren hillside toward the trees.

With her right hand. Linden Avery kept a sure hold on her wedding ring.

Here ends

The Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant.

Index