Abruptly Stave stepped forward and slapped Covenant in Linden’s stead. The Haruchai measured his blow precisely: it was not as hard as Linden’s, although he could have snapped Covenant’s neck with ease. But it was enough.

Renewed pain restored Covenant to the present.

At once, two of the other Haruchai sprang at Stave. They dragged him away roughly, ignoring the fact that he did not resist them. When the Ramen rushed to his aid—even the Manethrall whose lost eyes were bandaged—Stave stopped them with a word.

Facing the aggravated injury of Linden’s gaze, Covenant tried again to answer her.

“I know. You’ve already changed the fate of the Earth, but you still don’t believe you can do things like that. You just want to find your son.

“I can’t tell you. I have no idea where he is. I used to know. But it’s gone. It’s just gone.” He had already been reduced to a husk of his former self. With every breath, every heartbeat, the sum of his memories shrank. He imagined that he had once labored to protect Jeremiah’s spirit from Lord Foul’s taint. Yet he could no longer recall his efforts. “Everything I remember is broken. And I’m losing more all the time. There isn’t enough of me to hold it.”

He retained only the fragments that lay hidden among the cracks in his awareness. When he slipped into them, his mind lost its connection to his new flesh.

“Linden?” Liand asked softly, pleading with her. “What can be done? What remains to us? We cannot continue to strike him. If he is indeed unable to recollect—”

“No.” Linden shook her head urgently; frantically. “No.” She took a step backward. The avid brilliance of the krill limned her form, left her features in darkness. “This is wrong. It can’t be this way.

“What did you want me to do? When you urged me to find you? What did you think I could accomplish?”

—hold it, Covenant thought. Hold them all. For a moment, the sight of Giantships tugged at him, pulling him down. He saw the wooden vessels of the Unhomed sunk by turiya Kinslaughterer while the Giants waited for death in their homes. The suction as the ships foundered tried to drag Covenant with them. None of them were left at sea: they had returned to The Grieve to be fitted with Gildenlode keels and rudders so that they might be able to find their way Home; end their long bereavement—

But Covenant struggled to remain present for Linden’s sake.

Fumbling, unsure of his movements, he forced himself to stand and face her. “It isn’t up to me.” He was hardly able to feel his hands and feet. “I just didn’t want—” His fingers twitched involuntarily, as if he were reaching for something. But he was unaware of them. They were as useless as the knowledge which had bled out of him. “That old man. The beggar. The Creator. He abandoned you before you ever came here. I didn’t want you to think I’d abandoned you too.”