“Are you dismayed by the hurt of your deeds? Then make amends. Do not imagine that you have come to the end of service and healing. The woman who entered my camp to meet death and give battle would not have permitted herself that Desecration.”

Linden heard him, but she did not listen. Gallows Howe held truths unknown to Berek and his descendants. Ire was only one aspect of what she had learned in Caerroil Wildwood’s demesne—and in her ordeal under Melenkurion Skyweir. By their stature and potency, the ancient Lords had drawn her beyond herself. Now she felt called to the Law-Breakers.

To Elena, daughter of Lena and Covenant, who had pierced the Law of Death because she had trusted Kevin’s pain—and who, like Linden, had failed to heed the warning of the Ranyhyn.

Linden herself had become a Law-Breaker. And she could not lay claim to the redemptive mystery which had impelled Caer-Caveral to breach the Law of Life so that Covenant’s spirit would remain to ward the Arch of Time when his body had been slain—and so that Hollian and her unborn son could live again. The Dead Forestal of Andelain would not understand Linden.

Only Elena could comprehend her now that Linden also had ignored the Ranyhyn, and all of her choices had become calamities.

Moving around Covenant’s sprawled helplessness and the krill’s compulsory light—leaving her Staff and Covenant’s ring unregarded on the grass—Linden crossed the hollow to approach the last Forestal and the stricken High Lord.

On some level, she felt Berek’s shade watching her. She sensed his efforts to gauge the condition of her soul—or the direction of her thoughts. But she had no attention to spare for him; and after a moment, he seemed to sigh. Unreassured, he faded as well, following his descendants as if she had dismissed him.

In the absence of those towering spirits—and of the Wraiths, fled from Linden’s great wrong—her companions began to emerge from their entrancement and shock. Liand and the Ramen became restive, fretted by alarms. The Humbled and even Stave gazed after Linden as though they disapproved of her refusal to acknowledge or answer Berek Halfhand. The Harrow watched Linden avidly while Infelice shed distress like damaged jewels.

But Linden ignored them as well. A score of paces, or perhaps more, brought her face-to-face with the Law-Breakers, who had escorted Covenant out of Time to meet her uttermost need.

Elena seemed unable to meet her gaze. Regret and grief twisted the High Lord’s features as she studied the grass at Linden’s feet, the stains on Linden’s jeans. Lit by the krill, torn hair framed Elena’s galled face, her naked self-abhorrence.

At any other time, Linden might have been moved by empathy to remain silent. Elena was Covenant’s daughter. In simple kindness, if for no other reason, Linden might have tried to show the spectre as much consideration as she had given Joan.

But Roger also was Covenant’s child. Linden had no patience for Elena. She could not afford to treat Elena’s failings more gently than her own. Linden had committed an absolute crime. Only absolute responses would suffice.