“Recall the convulsion which caused the rift of Landsdrop. It arose from Her imprisonment. Her betrayal and wrath and weeping as She was cast down sundered this region of the Earth to its foundations. If Her name is restored to Her—if She is enabled to remember—the result will be a cataclysm of such rage that it shatters the whole of Gravin Threndor.

“She will remain. I will depart. But you and all who accompany you will perish. Doubtless your son also will perish. Yet Kastenessen and a-Jeroth and the Ravers will endure. The skurj and the Sandgorgons and your former mate will endure. And the shattering of Mount Thunder will not slow the Worm of the World’s End.”

“Tell me!” the bane howled eagerly. “I care nothing for you! Tell me who I am!”

Through his teeth, Esmer finished, “Do not ask such folly of me. I will not comply.”

“Then I will devour you!” Roaring. “I will gnash your bones and suck their marrow! I will make morsels of your flesh to feed my eternal lament! I will—!”

Covenant interrupted Her as if he had passed beyond death into utter fearlessness. “No, you won’t.”

Fire and rage tried to override him. “Also I will ensure that consciousness lingers within you, so that you may share the excruciation of these others whom I have consumed!”

Face after face wailed like the damned, and found no relief.

Covenant swung back to confront the bane again. “No,” he repeated sternly, “you won’t.” He had no reason to think that She would listen to him. Nevertheless he spoke with the strength of Time, as though all the ages of the Arch made him irrefusable. “I’m not done. There may be other answers. I just need a little time. We aren’t going anywhere. You know that. All you have to do is give me a little time.”

Feigning an assurance that he could not feel, he turned his back on Her again.

She Who Must Not Be Named may have been astonished at his impudence. Or perhaps he had struck a spark of yearning for Her true self into the fierce tinder of Her heart. Women yowled threats from many throats, but did not advance to kill him.

Slowly he looked around at his companions, meeting each gaze in turn. Then he said with an ache of sadness, “I’m sorry about this. I hate doing it. But it’s my last shot. If it doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas.”

That was not true. A strange certainty gripped him: an assurance which he could not have justified, even to himself. He had another gambit in reserve. But he wanted the bane to believe him. He wanted Esmer to believe him. So that they would wait.