Concentrating on dangers, she was taken by surprise when the horses stopped. They had entered a low vale between outcroppings of basalt so smooth and slick that they hinted at the distant abandonment of the stars. A tentative trickle of water ran down the vale-bottom, tending eastward; and tough grasses clung to life there, interspersed with more aliantha than the company had found elsewhere.

There the Manethrall and then Stave dismounted. As Narunal and Hynyn trotted away, Mahrtiir announced quietly, “Some rest we must have. The Ranyhyn will watch over us.”

In a chorus of soft groans and sighs, the Giants gathered around Linden and Hyn, Jeremiah and Khelen. Some of them loosened their cataphracts, dropped the shaped stones to the grass. While Stormpast Galesend lifted Jeremiah from his mount, Cabledarm and Onyx Stonemage began to unpack a meal. All of the Swordmainnir were uneasy, troubled by the possible burgeoning of caesures, the approach of bad weather. But they could not refuse a chance for food and sleep.

As Khelen cantered away after Narunal and Hynyn, Linden slipped down from Hyn’s back; let the mare go. Stave had already set out the bedroll for her, but she ignored it. Of Mahrtiir, she asked, “Did Covenant stop here?”

Like the Manethrall and the Giants, she spoke softly. She did not know the Lower Land; did not know what waited in the night. Loud sounds might attract notice—

“I gauge that he did,” Mahrtiir replied, almost whispering. “Hooves have preceded us. Treasure-berries have been plucked. But his pause was brief. Had he lingered here, more sign of his mount would be evident.”

“How far ahead is he?”

“Perhaps five leagues.” Now the Manethrall sounded less assured. “Certainly no more than ten. At greater speed, the marks of his passing would be more distinct, the strides longer.”

Linden tried to consider the implications of Covenant’s progress. But she could not imagine them: her scant experience of the Lower Land did not extend this far south.

Keeping her voice low, she asked Stave where she was.

Around her, the Giants gave no obvious sign that they were listening. Instead they prepared a meal, or gathered aliantha, or shed their armor and massaged each other’s sorest muscles. Yet Linden felt the weight of their oblique attention.

Only Jeremiah appeared to hear and understand nothing.

The shared memories of Stave’s people were precise. “At present,” he said without hesitation, “we travel the arid marge which separates the foothills of Landsdrop from the wetlands of Sarangrave Flat. This terrain is not wide. Its constriction may account for the fact that our path follows the Unbeliever’s.

“Where we now rest, Landsdrop continues to the southeast. If the Ranyhyn do not quicken their pace, we will remain much as we are for perhaps another day. Then, however, we will attain both the easternmost cliffs of Landsdrop and the southern reaches of the Sarangrave. In that place, the broken plinth of the Colossus will stand high above us, while beyond it the River Landrider plunges from the Plains of Ra to become the Ruinwash.”