“Besides,” he added like a shrug, “what’s the alternative? Staying behind won’t accomplish anything. The Worm isn’t here. Neither is Lord Foul. If we want to stop them, we’ll have to go where they are. That means we’ll have to face Kastenessen and the skurj and Roger and caesures and Ravers and even Joan. If you think we can do all that alone—if you think we don’t need as many friends and allies as we can get—you’re out of your minds.”

Hardly aware of what she did, Linden raised her hand to touch Covenant’s ring through the plucked flannel of her shirt; to anchor herself on its cold comfort as she had done for years. But it was gone. And her hands were empty without the Staff.

Liand gripped his orcrest so tightly that its light shook, casting ambiguous shadows over the figures grouped around Covenant.

Finally Stave intervened. From his place at Linden’s side, he said, “The Unbeliever has spoken. You will acquiesce. How otherwise will the Humbled redeem themselves in my sight?”

Galt glanced at Clyme; at Branl. “Is there no other recourse?” he asked aloud when he could have addressed them mind to mind.

They shook their heads slightly: so slightly that Linden almost missed the glint of resignation or remorse in their eyes.

“Then,” Galt pronounced, “we redeem ourselves thus.”

Wheeling so swiftly that Linden did not see him move, he flung a killing blow at her face.

Her death would cancel her bargain with the Harrow. He would take Covenant’s ring and her Staff, and retrieve Jeremiah for his own use. By the inhumane standards of the Masters, that would put an end to her many Desecrations.

Yet Galt’s blow did not touch her. Stave reached out and caught Galt’s fist easily, as if he had seen or heard the attack coming before Galt moved. The smack of knuckles against flesh made Linden flinch, but did not harm her.

Liand yelped. Too late, the Ramen snatched at their garrotes. Coldspray and two other Giants surged forward with their heavy fists cocked.

But Galt did not strike again, or resist Stave’s grasp. Instead he nodded once and stepped back. At the same time, Clyme and Branl released Covenant and held out their hands, open and empty, as if to show that they, too, had surrendered.

“It appears,” the Ardent remarked to the Harrow, “that the scale of your entourage has been increased yet again.” He sounded smug once more. “Doubtless you will welcome these added witnesses to the grand culmination of your designs.”

The Harrow muttered a curse under his breath; but Linden could not hear what it was.

She did not move. She hardly dared to breathe. She was afraid that anything she might say or do would shatter the spell, the mystery, of what had just occurred.