He seemed to swallow wonder and anticipation that bordered on exaltation. “Linden, you spoke of healing. When you had informed me of orcrest’s power to wash away the effects of Kevin’s Dirt, you made mention of healing. Healing of the spirit rather than of the flesh. From this surely arises the ancient use of Sunstone as a test of truth.”

While Linden ground her teeth, Liand said more strongly, “It is in my heart that your son’s plight, first and last, is an affliction of the spirit. If orcrest is puissant to bind together Anele’s incoherence, mayhap it is able also to seal your son’s soul against ravage. How may such a creature as the croyel endure any test of truth? I am uninstructed in the ways of Earthpower.” As he spoke, he seemed to become taller in Linden’s sight; more solid. “Yet both my heart and my eyes assure me that the magicks of orcrest are anathema to this hideous being.

“Linden Avery, I ask your leave to attempt your son’s release.”

Before Linden could reply, Onyx Stonemage countered, “And if the croyel exceeds your strength? What then? We have seen Linden Giantfriend’s flame transformed to blackness. I pray that the alteration proves fleeting. Yet if she who is adept at Earthpower can be tainted thus, how will you endure?

“Liand of Mithil Stonedown, I honor your willing valor. I am proud to name you among my companions. But when you gaze into this lost boy’s heart, his possessor will gaze into yours. Then mayhap no admixture will remain to ease our own lament.”

Linden started to say, Do it, Liand. At some better time, she might have added, I trust you. While urgency clogged her throat, however, she felt the sickening migraine aura of a caesure slam into existence among the hills.

Whirling, she scrambled to focus her senses. Around her, Giants turned, scanning the horizons swiftly. Groaning to himself, Bhapa hastened toward Manethrall Mahrtiir.

“Protect Anele!” the old man gasped frantically. “He is the hope of the Land! It seeks him!”

“It is there, Chosen,” Stave announced, pointing into the northeast. “It writhes a league or more distant. At present, it does not threaten us. Yet it seethes toward us. If it does not veer aside or disperse itself, you must oppose it.”

He was right. As soon as Linden located the Fall, she felt it clearly: a miasma of corruption as vicious as a swarm of hornets, and as massive as Revelstone’s watchtower, chewing its way through the Law of Time. It lurched from side to side, apparently reacting to the whims and impulses of Joan’s madness rather than to the terrain. But it was coming—

Damn it!