As she sent her health-sense inward, she felt Stave drop the chain that supported Covenant’s ring around her neck. Its slight weight seemed to steady her in spite of Esmer’s strange ability to block wild magic.

Shaking her head, Frostheart Grueburn muttered, “The harsh clangor of these Demondim-spawn maddens me. I am a Giant, accustomed to comprehension. Yet I cannot grasp their speech.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Coldspray. “Here is your occasion, Esmer mere-son. You wish to speak. And it is by your doing that we are denied our gift of tongues. Speak, then. Reveal what these creatures wish to make known.”

“Fools,” Esmer retorted sourly. “They say nothing that I would not freely convey, should you condescend to hear me.”

“A moment,” Latebirth interjected. “A moment, if you will grant it, Ironhand.” Her blunt features and misted eyes were full of chagrin. “There is too much of which we know nothing. If he is able, let Stave speak of events that transpired here before the Ardent freed us from our sopor. When we grasp what has occurred, mayhap we will be better able to cede the mere-son our heed.”

Fluttering his clothes to attract the attention of the company, the Ardent said meekly, “Permit me. Though he denies his hurt, this Haruchai is gravely wounded. The substance of the skest has not lost its virulence. It burrows inward still. And my knowledge does not extend to the amelioration of such hurts. Indeed, it is no longer sufficient to ease the Timewarden. Both in their turn will have need of the lady’s gifts.”

“Oh, surely,” Esmer muttered, sneering. “Permit all who would do so to speak. What need has this wise and mighty company for an awareness of its jeopardy, or for the scant counsels of the Demondim-spawn?”

“Unlike this Haruchai,” continued the Ardent, addressing Rime Coldspray in spite of Esmer’s protest, “his kinsmen have indeed been humbled. He contrived to free himself from the ensorcelment of the Viles. They could not. Yet none have fallen low as I. I have prided myself on the trust which the Insequent have placed in me—and I have learned that their trust was folly. My doom I have ensured. Permit me to make what amends I may.”

“To be humbled,” Stave replied, “comes in many guises, Insequent, as does to be humiliated.” His raw tone betrayed his pain. “Yet you persist in striving. Perhaps my kinsmen will profit from your example.”

Apparently he wished to remind the Humbled that the Haruchai had a long history of abandoning their commitments when they judged that they had failed.

Following blood, Linden found the ribs which had pierced Liand’s lungs. Those bones led her to the places where they had splintered. As clearly as signposts, they pointed her toward crushed vertebrae and mangled nerves.