Clarion and commanding, Stave demanded, “Branl! Galt!”

The Humbled must have heard Stave’s thoughts, understood his instructions. Striding forward quickly, Branl wrenched a wide band of ochre cloth from the hem of his tunic. Then he took Galt’s place supporting Covenant, gave the fabric to Galt.

At once, Galt folded the cloth over his right hand and reached to remove the krill from Covenant’s grasp; to assume Covenant’s threat against the croyel.

Linden caught her breath, bit her lip. She feared that Covenant’s hands were too badly burned to open. She expected his flesh to peel off the bones when he tried to unclose his fingers—or when Galt pried them loose. Unaware that she had moved, she stood at Covenant’s shoulder with the kind fire of Earthpower flowering from the Staff. While Galt extended his hand to replace Covenant’s, she sent rich flames to curl around Covenant’s forearms, fill his veins, save his fingers.

For the moment, she ignored the horror of her son’s straits. Instead she concentrated utterly and solely on the challenge of preserving Covenant’s hands so that he would be able to let go.

The effort tore a cry past Covenant’s restraint: a shocking howl. But Galt nudged gently at his fingers while Linden laved his suffering with Earthpower. One joint at a time, he released his grasp.

Immediately Branl pulled Covenant aside while Galt claimed High Lord Loric’s krill; accepted the task of restraining the croyel. With his left hand, Galt gripped Jeremiah’s shoulder so that Clyme could step away.

As soon as Covenant’s touch was withdrawn, Joan’s savagery faltered. She or turiya Raver must have sensed his absence: her efforts were useless now. Flickering, the gem faded to its more ordinary radiance. The krill’s heat remained, but it did not wound Galt’s wrapped hand.

Through the silence of the company, and the raw residue of acid in the air, Stave said flatly, “Well done.”

The Humbled appeared to ignore his approval.

Branl kept Covenant on his feet; but Linden closed her arms around him nonetheless, enfolding him in Earthpower and gratitude. How had he known that she needed him? That his own son had come to preserve Jeremiah’s victimization? She could not imagine how or why Covenant had responded. Yet somehow he had found his way through the maze of his memories as well as the bewildering wonders of the arcane palace for her sake, or for Jeremiah’s.

“Linden.” Covenant’s voice was a mere husk of sound. His pain ached in her arms. “Help Liand. We need him.” He was too weak and damaged to move. Nevertheless he seemed to push her away from him. “We need him.”

I wish I could spare you. But I can’t see any way around it.