“Withhold, Chosen,” he said sharply. “I will implore you if I must. He is Haruchai, a Master, one of the Humbled. If he chooses death, your power cannot stop his hand.”

“Must,” Anele echoed almost inaudibly. “Cannot.”

Spreading midnight fire like sheet-lightning over the ridgecrest, Linden whirled to confront Covenant.

“Stop him!” she cried in a voice as dark as her flame. “You’ve told them and told them! You’ve supported me ever since I brought you back!” And Esmer had healed Jeremiah’s crumpled toy. Surely that implied some possibility of salvation for her son? “Don’t let him do this!”

Covenant stood unsteadily between Bhapa and Pahni. He did not so much as glance at Linden. Lost in memories, he looked as forlorn as a disturbed grave. The muscles of his jaw knotted and released, knotted and released, like the struggle of his mute heart.

“Linden Avery.” Stave was almost shouting. “Quench your fire. The Unbeliever cannot reply. Were he able to do so, I do not doubt that he would forbid the Humbled. But he cannot. And such stained Earthpower is surely a beacon to every lorewise being who seeks our harm.

“I have said that I will answer Galt. I will do so. But you must end this dire display.”

At last, Linden’s mind seemed to catch up with her actions; her desperation. In spite of the fury pounding in her ears—fury or despair—she understood Stave. Covenant could not respond: not as he was. And she had never meant to oppose any Haruchai with Earthpower or wild magic. Stave’s people were the Land’s friends, if they were not hers.

—your power cannot stop his hand.

Trembling as if she were feverish or freezing, Linden panted, “All right. All right. Answer him. Do it now.”

Every sinew in her body shuddered as she forced herself to swallow her frenzy and her Staff’s fire.

Momentary relief spattered among the Giants, the Ramen. Then it was gone. Even Anele’s blind gaze seemed to follow her as she faced Galt again. Only Jeremiah showed no sign that he was aware of his peril: only Jeremiah and Covenant.

“Speak, Galt,” Stave demanded. “Account for your intent so that your companions may comprehend it. Then hear my reply.”

“I will do so,” Galt repeated. “Betimes others have concealed their purposes. But we are the Humbled, and Masters, and Haruchai. We scorn such conduct.”

To Linden, his every word sounded as heavy as the beat of a dirge.

“Our reasons are many,” he began. “Least among them is that I will not bear this monstrous being upon the back of Bhanoryl, or upon that of any Ranyhyn. All Haruchai honor the Ranyhyn. I will not impose the evil of the croyel upon them.”