The croyel kept its eyes closed. Jeremiah continued to gape at nothing as if he did not need sleep—or could not tell the difference between slumber and wakefulness.

Ah, God, Linden thought. Resurrected spiders and centipedes scurried on her skin. Covenant, please. I’m falling apart here.

But Covenant did not hear her prayer, or did not heed it. Sweating slightly, he slumped against his boulder as if he were as trapped as Jeremiah; as if his memories were graves.

After a while, the Manethrall returned, wading against the current. As he drew near, Linden saw that he had washed his garments as well as his limbs and hair. He had even scrubbed his bandage. Then he had retied it around his head, concealing the ruin of his lost eyes.

When he had surveyed Linden and her diminished company, he turned to his Cords. At once, Bhapa surged to his feet. Perhaps ashamed of his lingering anger, he bowed as if he were accepting a reprimand. But Mahrtiir did not address the older Cord. Instead, standing with his feet in the stream, he spoke to Pahni in a tone of quiet authority, confident that he would be obeyed.

“Cord Pahni, Bhapa requires your aid. He must bathe. You must insist upon it. He is a Cord deprived of his Maneing only by the absence other Manethralls. His appearance is unseemly.”

Linden had expected Mahrtiir to respond to Pahni’s pain more directly. But he knew the girl’s Ramen nature better than Linden did. In Pahni’s present state, attempts at consolation might only weaken her. Instead he directed her awareness outward; away from her woe and exhaustion.

Linden could not see Pahni’s face, but she felt the girl flinch. A moment later, however, the young Cord climbed, tottering, to stand upright. Wavering on the frayed edge of her balance, she bowed to her Manethrall. Then, weak as a foal, she turned to Bhapa. “Come, Bhapa.” Briefly her voice seemed to stick in her throat, clogged by sorrows. “Ramen do not protest when a Manethrall commands.”

Taking Bhapa’s hand, she led him into the stream as if he, too, had been blinded.

As Mahrtiir had foreseen, she responded when she was given reason to believe that she was needed.

If Linden had thought for an instant that Covenant would do the same, she might have tried to slit her wrists.

Eventually Rime Coldspray and the rest of the Swordmainnir came back from the ridgecrest, carrying their armor. After their fashion, they seemed as tired as Bhapa, and as unresolved. Yet their fortitude ran deep. Although they adored stone and sea, they were timbers, able to flex instead of shattering. To honor Liand, they had spent much of their endurance. But much remained.