With something like sympathy in his voice, Mahrtiir asked, “Will you gainsay me, Bhapa? Were you selected to accompany the Ringthane along the path of her many travails because you were counted unfit for lesser duties? Did not Whrany consent to bear you, when until that day no Raman had ever ridden the Ranyhyn? And did not Rohnhyn freely offer himself when Whrany was slain? The Timewarden has spoken of trust. The time has come for Cord Bhapa of the Ramen to trust himself.”

Panic filled Bhapa’s mien: alarm glistened in his eyes. The skin of his face was the color of sun-beaten dust.

But then, trembling, he bowed to his Manethrall. His hand quivered like an aspen leaf about to fall as he accepted Pahni’s clasp.

With a visible effort, Covenant unclosed his fingers from the krill. “I’m sorry,” he muttered to no in particular. “If this was my idea—” He grimaced. “I can’t imagine what I was thinking. You deserve an explanation, but I don’t have one.”

Bitterly Linden swore to herself. Under other circumstances, she might have protested. She did not know how to bear Liand’s death, or Anele’s, or even Galt’s. She did not want to lose Bhapa and Pahni as well.

Panting, the Ardent said hoarsely, “Timewarden.”

Covenant moved closer. “Yes?”

Stretched thin with effort, the Ardent urged as clearly as he could, “Remember Mishio Massima.”

Covenant stared. “Is that your true name?”

Could he be invoked? Even when he was so close to collapse?

The dying man gave a cracked laugh. “It is my steed.”

A moment later, the geas of the Insequent gripped him for the last time. It wrenched him to his feet with his head thrown back as if he needed to scream. Ribbands coiled spasmodically around him; fell to the ground; twisted upward again. His hands clutched at the air like claws.

“It is enough,” he said as if the words were torn from his throat. “We are content. Here ends the Ardent. If the Earth endures, he will be honored as the greatest of the Insequent.”

A moment later, his raiment reached out to clasp Pahni and Bhapa. So quickly that the Cords had no chance to say farewell, he gathered them to him and vanished.

Involuntarily Linden staggered as if she wished to follow them. Their departure seemed to leave a gap in the air that she needed to fill. But Stave caught her instantly; and of course she had nowhere to go.

At her side, Mahrtiir sagged like a man unexpectedly bereft. Now that his Cords were gone, his aura revealed a pang of uncertainty, as if he had sent them to be humiliated. Nothing that Handir and the other Masters had done in Revelstone gave the Manethrall cause to believe that Bhapa and Pahni would succeed.