Yes, Linden thought. Please. I’m going to try again. As soon as I think of a way to do it. I just need time.

But still Galt ignored Stave. Now he appeared to speak exclusively to the Giants as if he considered the rest of the company suspect; flawed by their loyalties.

“However, the greatest reason is this. When the time comes to confront our foes, the Unbeliever will require the krill. High Lord Loric invested this blade and this gem with a mighty theurgy. Like my own strength, that theurgy is wasted in its present use. It is wasted utterly, though it will be utterly needed.

“The Unbeliever did not wrest it from its place merely to capture and preserve the boy. He foresaw far graver exigencies, else he would not have surrendered all of Andelain to ravage and ruin. It cannot be his intent that Andelain should perish for the sake of Linden Avery’s irretrievable child.”

To this, the Swordmainnir responded with silence and glowering. Linden felt their anger rise. The set of Rime Coldspray’s jaw seemed to rebuff Galt at every point.

For centuries or millennia, the Masters had rebuffed the Giants—

But if Stave felt any frustration at Galt’s attitude, he did not show it. Instead he continued to answer. Now, however, he spoke so slowly that he seemed to drawl, emphasizing every assertion.

“Then, Humbled,” he said as if he had assumed Covenant’s authority, “you will stay your hand while you await the Unbeliever’s return to himself. Your other persuasions are chaff. They are mere impatience misnamed devotion. But the reason of the Unbeliever’s need has merit. It is incontestable. Yet his absence is also incontestable. He cannot require the krill while he remains as he is. And it is neither honest nor honorable to kill the boy when no purpose is served. It is murder.

“Have the Humbled come to this? Do they commit murder, when the Haruchai have always refused assent to such crimes?”

Now Galt met Stave’s single gaze. Briefly he flexed his fingers on the haft of the krill, eased the pressure of his grip on Jeremiah. When he replied, Linden thought that she heard a subtle discomfiture in his tone.

“It may chance that the touch of the krill will restore the Unbeliever to himself.”

Still slowly, Stave said, “Or it may chance that it will not. Then the son of Linden Avery the Chosen will have been slain, and you will have accomplished nothing, and your vaunted devoir will be made a mockery of itself.”

Linden hung on Stave’s response. Inwardly she burned to hear what Galt would say next.

But he did not reply.

Without warning, he and Stave both stiffened as if they were about to leap at each other’s throats. Then Stave grabbed her arm, snatched her away from Galt and Jeremiah—

—turned her in time to see Clyme launch himself off the crest where he had stood watch.