That, too, was more than she could absorb. Without thinking, she repeated, “I don’t care. I’m just glad that you managed to save Jeremiah.” Learning now that he had been lost would have destroyed her. “Everything else—” She shrugged instead of weeping. “You can explain it all later.”

Don’t touch me.

“That is wisdom,” Stave stated firmly. “The ur-Lord’s suasion of Esmer was needful, as it now appears that your immersion was needful. Continuing to speak of such matters serves no purpose.”

His manner suggested that he was addressing Pahni, advising her not to reveal what Covenant had done. If so, Linden approved. She owed Covenant that much. His rejection made gratitude impossible; but it did not change the fact that he had broken the bane’s grip on her mind. Because of him, she could still hope to rescue her son from the croyel.

“Chosen,” Stave continued, “will you not withdraw from the stream?” With one hand, he gestured toward the patch of sand at the water’s edge. “There you may dry your raiment, and accept the sun’s warmth, and speak of whatsoever you desire.”

Linden shook her head. Her sodden clothes did not trouble her. And she was not ready to face the decisions that awaited her; the impossible futures. Her memories of the monster on Jeremiah’s back were bad enough: the actuality would be worse.

Like Covenant, her son was someone whom she could not touch.

“I need a bath,” she explained, groaning to herself. More than that, she needed to recover some semblance of emotional balance. “If you don’t mind, Stave, you can take Covenant back to the others.” She could not bear to look at him yet. “Pahni can stay with me. When I don’t feel quite so disgusted”—her mouth twisted at the thought of her filthy hair and rank clothes—“she’ll help me find you.”

“By my Manethrall’s command, Ringthane,” Pahni answered, “I must comply with Thomas Covenant’s wishes. If the Unbeliever will grant it, however, I will abide with you gladly.” Her tone hinted that she might choose to defy Mahrtiir’s orders.

“Ah, hell,” Covenant sighed. “Why not?” Linden heard regret in his voice. “After what you’ve been through, the least you deserve is a chance to be left alone.

“Come on, Stave.” He lifted a hand in the direction of Stave’s shoulder. “I’m exhausted. I probably won’t make it without help.”

“Go on,” Linden murmured automatically. She wanted him gone; wanted to forget him if she could. In self-defense, she had fixed her mind on the idea of a bath: she was impatient to take off her clothes. In the absence of soap, she could use sand to rub away the most tactile of her many soilures.

Pahni shot Stave a quick glance. “If you will, Stave, assure Liand that I am”—she caught herself—“that we are well.”

Linden was vaguely surprised to hear the Cord use Stave’s name. Her closest friends had become more comfortable with each other than they had once been. For that, she gave Stave most of the credit. He had taught the Ramen and Liand to regret their initial distrust.