But Liand did not dissolve. Instead he closed his hand on the orcrest; and Linden remembered that the Harrow was gone.

At first, the Sunstone only glowed like the lambence of the Lost Deep, nacreous and commingled, indistinguishable from the illumination of the Viles. Yet even that distortion of the Sunstone’s nature must have given Liand strength. He gripped the orcrest more firmly. By gentle increments, its radiance regained its more familiar white purity.

At the same time, Linden’s sense of herself came back into focus. The Harrow, she thought distinctly. Jeremiah!

The Ardent lay swaddled as if he clad himself for burial. No one remained to insist on the sanctity of the Harrow’s oath.

Liand brought forth brighter Earthpower. Linden’s heart pounded as if she were suffocating; drowning—

“All right,” she gasped. “Keep doing that.” Echoes scattered from the chandeliers like cascades of gemstones. “Don’t let go of Anele. We have to catch up with the Harrow.”

Liand shook his head, struggled to clear his thoughts. “What of the Giants?” The muscles of his neck corded. “Pahni and the Ramen? Stave? If we forsake them—”

Linden started toward the stair, pulling Anele after her; hoping that Anele would pull Liand. “We don’t have time.” Water seemed to fill her lungs. “We’ll come back when we know what the Harrow is doing.” She was becoming water. “We have to find Jeremiah.”

She was already ashamed that she had forgotten her son.

Anele tightened his grasp. Mad or sane, he followed her willingly. And he did not release Liand. After a moment, the Stonedownor set aside his reluctance. Together Linden and Anele encouraged Liand toward the wide arc of the stairway.

Strength enabled strength. Every increment of Earthpower that Liand summoned from the orcrest inspired him to summon more.

Following the Harrow, Linden climbed the stairs like a cresting wave.

If we forsake them—She was abandoning her other friends; abandoning Covenant. If she had heard the dangers of the palace described, she might have assumed that the intransigence of the Haruchai would protect them. The Giants and the Ramen were open to awe and joy: they had no defense. But Stave and the Humbled—

Yet the Haruchai also had no defense. They, too, were vulnerable to wonder and generosity, in spite of their wonted stoicism. How else had High Lord Kevin and the Council of Lords and Giants and Ranyhyn inspired the Vow of the Bloodguard?

How else had the Vizard humiliated them, if not by mocking the depth of their passions?

When Stave and the Masters regained themselves, they, too, would feel shame. Clyme and Branl and Galt and even Stave would judge themselves harshly. Haruchai did not forgive—

Nevertheless Linden did not turn back. Jeremiah came first. She would return for the rest of her companions when she no longer feared what the Harrow might do.