Mahrtiir ignored the tension in the Humbled. Standing between argent and darkness, he retorted, “Do not speak of fault, Ringthane. The deed was Kastenessen’s. His and no other’s.” Suppressed mourning fretted the Manethrall’s wrath. “To assert otherwise is to urge despair in the guise of blame.”

“I stopped paying attention,” Linden insisted. “I let it happen. Anyone here could have told you what Kastenessen would do if Anele touched bare dirt without—” Her voice caught in her throat. Oh, Liand! She could not say his name. “Without the Sunstone. I caused this when I ignored him.”

Galt might conceivably have warned Liand. But she had seen Cail beaten bloody by his kindred. She had watched Stave’s expulsion from the communion of the Masters. For Galt’s sake as well as her own, she insisted that she was culpable.

But Mahrtiir did not relent. “And I will not hear of fault!” he shouted. “Attempts must be made. We have spoken of this, Ringthane. Even when there can be no hope. Your son requires redemption. Therefore Liand strove to succor him. To claim fault demeans the Stonedownor’s sacrifice.”

With a visible effort, the Manethrall lowered his voice. “Mischance alone released Anele from Stormpast Galesend’s protection. Thereafter Kastenessen’s deeds could doubtless be foreseen. Yet the assault of such caesures—aye, and of caesures invested with such purpose—could not. And it was not inattention which caused the mischance of Anele’s release. Stormpast Galesend’s stumble was the consequence of unprecedented hazards. If you wish to assign fault, you must name her also. Indeed, you must name every Giant among us, and cast aspersion upon all who have learned to love the Stonedownor. Like you, we knew of the old man’s plight, and of his desire to be given orcrest when some aspect of his madness demanded clarity.

“Hear me well, Ringthane,” Mahrtiir demanded through his teeth. “You tread paths prepared for you by Fangthane’s malice. Speaking of fault, you bind yourself to his service.”

Linden bowed her head under the weight of his ire. As if to herself, she sighed, “You don’t understand.” No one except Covenant had truly understood her. Lord Foul knew her better than Mahrtiir did. She Who Must Not Be Named knew her better. “What I’ve done is all I have. Without it, I’m nothing. I ignored Anele. I roused the Worm. I followed Roger when he was pretending to be Covenant.” Despair made sense. The new blackness of Earthpower in her hands suited her. “If I don’t take responsibility, I might as well be dead.”

All three of the Humbled watched her as if she had justified their deepest distrust.

She felt Bhapa’s desire to protest. Stave also seemed ready to object. But Rime Coldspray spoke first.