—are we not equal to all things?

We are the Elohim, the heart of the Earth. We stand at the center of all that lives and moves and is. No other being or need may judge us—

That, Esmer himself had proclaimed, that arrogance, that self-absorption, is shadow enough to darken the heart of any being.

“Well said, my lady!” The Harrow clapped his hands loudly. “I begin to believe that there is hope for the Earth, when every stratagem but mine has failed.”

The entire company ignored him.

“You denounce yourself, Linden Avery,” Galt asserted flatly. “The false dealings of the Elohim are yours as well.”

Linden accepted the charge. She, too, was guilty of self-absorption. Yes, and perhaps even of arrogance. I need you to doubt me. She had no other excuse for her actions.

No excuse except her yearning for Thomas Covenant and her compulsory love for Jeremiah.

But Rime Coldspray and then the rest of the Giants turned away from Infelice. Perhaps they had not truly expected to win any form of concession. Moving to stand among the Ranyhyn and the Humbled, they towered against the night sky; the lost stars and the fathomless dark.

“It may be, Haruchai,” the Ironhand replied to Galt, “that your certainty is apt. Yet Grimmand Honninscrave, whose valor and sacrifice were known to your ancestors, has assured us that the Dead do not pronounce judgment so readily. Mayhap Cail and others of your forefathers would have endeavored to sway you, had you consented to heed them.

“With honored Honninscrave, we have spoken of many things”—her tone was as hard as the stone of her glaive—“not neglecting the Worm of the World’s End. He described the necessity of freedom in terms too eloquent to be ignored. He did not call us away from Linden Giantfriend’s side so that we would be deprived of our own freedom of response, but rather so that we would not be provoked by events to determine our response in haste. And he said much concerning all that the Giants of the Search learned of Thomas Covenant and Linden Avery.”

Linden listened almost involuntarily. She meant to turn her attention to the Harrow. But her new understanding of Longwrath’s plight clung to her like Honninscrave’s death in possession and defiance.

At Linden’s side, Liand’s eyes shone as though he had already guessed what the Ironhand would reveal.

“That they are mortal,” the leader of the Swordmainnir went on, “and thus driven to error, cannot be denied. But the same must be said of Giants and Haruchai—and now also of Elohim. And Honninscrave reminded us of the First’s deep love, and of Pitchwife’s, and of his own, which both Thomas Covenant and Linden Avery earned by their courage and resolve, by their given friendship, and by their final refusal to honor the dictates of despair. If we doubt Linden Giantfriend, he acknowledged, we have just cause. But he also avowed that we have just cause to rely upon the lessons of past millennia, lessons of lealty and trust. Indeed, he assured us that his own dreads are preeminently for her rather than of her. Remain uncertain, as do the Dead, he urged us, and abide by the leanings of your hearts.