Yes. Linden nodded to herself. Esmer. That was it.

“Nevertheless,” Coldspray insisted, “you have dealt falsely with Giants. The burden of restitution is yours.”

“That is illusion,” countered Infelice. “Of a certainty, I am able to restore your gift of tongues—a gift which the mere-son will revoke once more when I have fled, as I must. But I cannot release the geas which grips the kinsman whom you name Longwrath.”

Linden winced when she heard that name; and Liand caught his breath. But Infelice did not pause.

“Such restitution”—she sneered the word—“is not mine to grant. The bargain which you name false was freely made, without coercion or constraint. In return for your gift of tongues, we sought the life of one then-unborn Giant at a time and in a circumstance of our choosing. If we did not say as much in language unmistakable to Giants, the fault lies in you. Whether by misapprehension or by self-delusion, the word of your kind was given. That deed is done. The geas which we required was set in motion then to seek its fulfillment now. It cannot be released, other than by the unmaking of its origin.

“We will not alter our past. Doing so will hasten the destruction of the Arch—and while we live we will cling to life.”

“Yet it was a dishonest bargain, Elohim,” protested Frostheart Grueburn. “Do you equate the granting of a tale with the surrender of a life?”

“A tale is a life,” Infelice stated.

“Nonetheless,” Grueburn continued, “you concealed from our ancestors that you craved a weapon potent to procure Linden Giantfriend’s death. Had they known that you wished to claim the life of any Giant for any purpose, they would have turned their backs and departed in repugnance.”

Infelice snorted her disdain. “There was no dishonesty. Our purposes are our own. We do not choose to reveal them. I acknowledge that your ancestors altogether misunderstood us. Still they accepted our bargain. If you find wrong in this, find it in your own kind, whose desire to comprehend the many tongues of the Earth outweighed their desire to comprehend the Elohim. We cannot be held accountable for their willingness to bind their descendants to a bargain which you now execrate.”

God, Linden thought in wan surprise. The Elohim had planned for this. All those millennia ago. Longwrath’s madness was not Earth-Sight: it was manipulation. It was for this! To avert this present moment. By misleading his ancestors, the Elohim had acquired the power to compel him against her, hoping that he would slay her before she entered Andelain with her Staff and Covenant’s ring.

“That’s unconscionable,” she found herself saying, although she had not intended to speak. “Lord Foul would be proud of you. If you wanted me dead, you could have killed me yourselves. You’ve had plenty of chances. Tricking other people into doing your dirty work isn’t just shortsighted. It’s suicidal. You could have had allies. Now all you’ve got are people who won’t be sorry to see you die first.”