“Haruchai, our hearts incline to Linden Avery, and also to Thomas Covenant. The peril of his incarnation is plain, as is that of her obduracy and might. He has suffered great harm, and the darkness within her is vivid to all who gaze upon her. Yet he remains a man who has risen to the salvation of the Land. And she has repeatedly demonstrated her capacity for unforeseen healings.

“If you are compelled to pass judgment,” the Ironhand concluded as if she were closing her fist, “do so among yourselves. We will not hear you. In spite of our uncertainty, we have elected to keep faith with our own past—and with hers.”

Short days ago, Coldspray had declared, After our children, tales are our greatest treasures. But there can be no story without hazard and daring, fortitude and uncertainty. And joy is in the ears that hear, not in the mouth that speaks.

Galt held the Ironhand’s gaze without blinking. Clyme and Branl did the same. However, they shared their thoughts in silence rather than aloud. To that extent, at least, they respected the attitude of the Giants. Only Stave heard his kindred; and he said nothing.

“Do you know—?” Linden tried to ask. But her throat closed as if she were still capable of weeping. Dismay filled her mouth like ashes or sand, and she had to swallow hard before she could find her voice. “Do you know what happened to Anele? Did Honninscrave,” oh, God, Honninscrave, who had deliberately accepted a Raver so that Lord Foul’s servant could be torn apart, “say anything about him?”

Coldspray shook her head, and her manner softened. “Of the old man, we know only what your eyes have beheld. We see that he has found solance among his Dead. But his state does not affect the heading of our choices. For that reason, I deem, Honninscrave did not speak of him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Linden murmured as if to herself. “His freedom is as necessary as anyone else’s. If we knew what was going on inside him, we might interfere somehow.”

Struggling against the Giants’ effect on her, she prepared herself to turn toward the Harrow again. You have companions, Chosen—She had an abundance of friends: the Swordmainnir had made that obvious.—who have not faltered in your service. Only the Humbled and Infelice wished to oppose her. But that changed nothing. She had set in motion the end of the world. She could not alter it. There was only one thing left for her to do.

Surely she should retrieve her Staff and Covenant’s ring? They remained on the grass, discarded as if they had betrayed her. They would have no value to her unless she claimed them again.

Perhaps, she thought, she should try to claim Loric’s krill as well. Its brightness defended Andelain; but now Andelain was doomed. Loric’s dagger may have been the highest achievement of the Old Lords—and it could not save the Hills. Nevertheless it might continue to draw power from Joan’s wedding band when Covenant’s was gone.