Branl and Clyme snatched at Esmer: Stave tried to catch him. They were too late. Unhindered, Cail’s son tapped the scar in the center of Covenant’s forehead with one finger. Then he let the Humbled and Stave drag him back.

Instantly Covenant’s eyes drifted out of focus. As though he had been caught by a question that no one else could hear, he frowned. His arms dropped.

Esmer had not harmed him physically: Linden could see that. Covenant’s scar glared whitely for a moment, stark as an incision. Then it faded, leaving no sign of any new injury.

Still Esmer had done enough. Swallowing gall, Linden fought her need to vomit.

Covenant’s eyes rolled back, and his head lolled against Kindwind’s armor, as he toppled into the maze of his fissured memories. Oh, he was not hurt: even his mind was not. Nonetheless he was gone. He had lost his grasp on the present. Instead of regarding Esmer or the Haruchai or even Linden, he wandered among the depths of Time.

While the Giants gathered protectively around Linden and Covenant, Esmer announced, “Now is the toll of my crimes complete.” Mourning frayed his tone. “I need only remain among you to satisfy Kastenessen’s malice and the merewives’ loathing. She Who Must Not Be Named cares naught for any deed of mine, but other powers will exult in your ruin.”

A scream rose in Linden’s throat: enough Earthpower to shatter the ceiling; rain down rubble.

Before she could release it, however, Liand shouted her name; and the simple humanity of his cry stopped her. It reminded her that the danger was too great. She could not afford overt despair. Not now: not while the croyel still ruled Jeremiah.

Yet she required some form of release for her dismay, her baulked love. They were too extreme to be contained. Covenant was gone. He was gone again. Reflexively she dropped his chained ring. She did not see Stave catch it before it struck the floor. Between one instant and the next, she transformed her force.

Instead of wasting her strength on screams, she aimed her fire at Covenant’s hands; tuned it to the pitch of healing. With a supreme effort of percipience and will, she set everything else aside in order to finish the necessary—and necessarily partial—restoration which the loremaster had begun.

If only for a moment, the chamber and the throne and her friends and even Esmer seemed to vanish. She forgot Jeremiah and the croyel. Every aspect of herself, every attainable resource, every baffled passion, she concentrated on Covenant.