He sat in the curve of Galesend’s breastplate, jerking his head from side to side. Occasional glints of argent accentuated the milky hue of his eyes. One hand gripped the Sunstone against his stomach as if to appease his incessant hunger. The other punched a rhythm at the cataphract, bruising his knuckles.

“He fears to fail—and to succeed.” With every phrase, he rocked back and forth in time to his blows. “He wears shackles of horror and shame. Murder. Futility. Error. Greater spirits speak of hope. They do not grasp that he is old and weak. Unable. He must, and cannot. Must. Cannot.”

Repeating, “Must,” and, “Cannot,” like a mantra, he hit the stone, oblivious of his audience.

“Anele?” Linden asked again softly, as if she were crooning to a child. “Anele?” The idea that he knew what he had done to Liand ached in her chest. “Just let it happen. Let it happen. I know that it hurts. But it might help us understand. We might be able to take better care of you.”

“Must,” Anele replied like an echo of himself. He may not have heard her. “Cannot.”

Gritting her teeth, Linden swallowed curses. She was intimately familiar with at least some of Anele’s emotions, and they ravaged her.

“I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted unhappily to Coldspray. “Trusting him is the only thing that I can think of. His parents were my friends. And they were talking to him in his dreams before he ever got to Andelain.

“Sometime long ago, he decided to be crazy—not to mention blind—because he couldn’t stand what was happening to him, or how he looked at himself, or what he thought he might have to do. But he’s still the son of his parents. I have to believe that his heart is as good as theirs. Eventually he’ll prove himself.”

So far, everything that Anele had contributed to the company, and to the Land, had been imposed on or wrested from him. In effect, insanity, blindness, and survival were the only choices that he had made for himself.

The Ironhand had come to stand near Linden. Now she rested a gentle hand on Linden’s shoulder. “We believe as you do. The old man has become dear to us. And we see no point of resemblance between his plight and Lostson Longwrath’s. For his sake, we pray only that ‘eventually’ will not be long delayed.”

Thus she sanctioned Linden’s desire to leave Liand’s birthright in Anele’s hands.

Then Coldspray stepped away. To her comrades, she said, “Come, Swordmainnir. A task awaits us. We must grieve with effort and stone, having no other caamora.”

At once, the other Giants readied themselves to depart. They seemed grimly eager to confront their own pain and loss. Only Cirrus Kindwind did not join them. Indicating her maimed arm with a grimace, she rose from her knees to stand near Covenant.