Crushed nerves. Shredded veins and arteries. Muscles and tendons and ligaments torn or severed. Infection everywhere. Raw contusions. Bruises as brutal as knife-thrusts. The profligate reek of blood and dirt and too much killing.

Linden wanted more vitrim. Without it, she feared that the needs of the Giants would outlast her. And she had not yet done anything for Stave or Mahrtiir. Or for the Humbled.

An end I must have—

Ragged with strain, Branl answered Covenant, “We deemed the preservation of your life paramount, ur-Lord. In this, we concur with Linden Avery. You are necessary. We saw no cause to endanger your life in combat.”

“Then why,” demanded Covenant, “didn’t you at least take Jeremiah somewhere safe?” But before the Masters could reply, he snapped, “No, don’t tell me. I already know. You were waiting for an excuse to kill the croyel. So you or Linden or somebody could use the krill.”

A weapon which had enabled her to rouse the Worm.

Like an act of self-flagellation, Branl said, “Yet Galt was swayed by Stave, as he was by Linden Avery.”

Covenant did not relent. “Some of this is still your doing.” He may have meant the battle, or Galt’s death, or the company’s multitude of wounds. “For once in your lives, I want you to accept the consequences.”

Now Clyme spoke. His voice sounded weaker than Branl’s; closer to prostration. Bitter with blood loss and old indignation, the outcome of a humiliation which his people had never forgotten, he asked, “When have the Haruchai ever declined the cost of their deeds?”

“I’m not talking about your damn deeds,” Covenant snarled. “I’m talking about being mortal. About not being equal to all things. This is what you get. You’re both too badly hurt. Now you’re going to let Linden heal you. That’s the consequence you have to accept. If you don’t, I am going to by God leave you behind.”

The Humbled or the Manethrall may have offered an objection too soft to reach the crest. In a harsh growl, Covenant responded, “It won’t be as hard as you think. I’ll just tell the Ranyhyn not to let you ride. You can’t possibly believe they won’t do it. They reared to me, for God’s sake!”

Linden drew strength from his misplaced wrath. In another time and place, she had learned to love his anger. She knew what it meant. It was recognition and compassion disguised as accusation. And he had come back, for the Land if not for her and Jeremiah. If he fell again, he would find a way to return.

She owed her life to the Haruchai. Because Covenant insisted upon it, Clyme and Branl would swallow enough of their pride to let her repay a portion of her long debt.