Towering above the rest of the company, the Giants met Linden’s gaze squarely. Some of them looked abashed, perhaps reluctant to admit their alarm and uncertainty. Grueburn and Cabledarm studied Linden as if they were trying to gauge her capacity to surprise them. But Rime Coldspray grinned like the blade of a scimitar, coldly, and with a keen edge.

“Linden Giantfriend, we displayed true Giantish folly when we elected to accompany the Harrow. To recant our unwisdom now would shame all who hear our tale.” The Ironhand gave an exaggerated shrug. More seriously, she continued, “To remain as we are achieves naught. Covenant Timewarden has given us warning, and must be heeded. If you deem that your acquaintance with the Viles, or your familiarity with the Staff of Law, may be of aid to the Harrow, I pray only that he will permit your efforts.”

The other Swordmainnir nodded with varying degrees of confidence. But Galt and Branl shook their heads; and Clyme asked inflexibly, “What magic do you possess, Linden Avery, that will meet our need? Are you not self-bereft of every vital resource?”

Before Linden could reply, Mahrtiir jerked up his head, took a step forward. “What concern is this of yours, sleepless one?” His old animosity toward the Masters countered the weight of his intimidation. “You have made plain that your devoir is to the Timewarden. Why then do you oppose the Ringthane in any attempt which may succor him as it does us?”

“Subsequent events—” began Clyme.

“—are not foreknown to you, Haruchai,” put in the Ardent unexpectedly. “The lady seeks the recovery of her son. What further justification of her deeds do you require?”

“Subsequent events,” Clyme repeated, “may reveal that the lady, as you name her, is not done with Desecration. Did not the Mahdoubt give battle and so perish to prevent the surrender which Linden Avery now contemplates?”

“Oh, stop.” Linden wrapped her arms around her to contain her shivering. “I’m not going to surrender. If I do that, I’ll never see Jeremiah again. There won’t be anything left of me.”

She had already given up everything else.

“Silence your pride,” Stave advised the Humbled. He sounded distant; uninterested. But the play of reflections in his eye gave the impression that he was laughing to himself. “No deed or dare of the Chosen’s will lessen the import of the Unbeliever’s presence, or of your service to him. Come good or ill, boon or bane, he remains the Unbeliever, ur-Lord Thomas Covenant. And has he not urged you to accept her path? When you have no other guidance, it is poor fidelity to speak against his wishes.”

If the Humbled debated Stave’s counsel, or their own commitments, they did so in silence. None of them voiced any further objection.