Linden could not watch. Deliberately she turned away from the group around Covenant as she stooped to grasp the carved black wood of her Staff. For an instant, she feared that she had burned away its readiness for Earthpower and Law. At once, however, she found that the Staff was whole, unharmed. Its strict warmth steadied her hand as she picked up Covenant’s ring, looped its chain over her head, and let the white gold dangle against her sternum.

Now, she commanded herself. Do it now.

Nevertheless she hesitated, gripped by a pang like a premonition of loss. Her own intentions frightened her. Even more than her Staff, Covenant’s wedding band symbolized the meaning of her life. When she surrendered such things, she would have nothing left.

Nothing apart from Jeremiah.

His need compelled her. If she kept nothing for herself except her son, she would find a way to be content.

Clutching the Staff until her knuckles ached, she crossed lush grass to bargain with the Harrow.

As ornately clad as a courtier, the Insequent sat his huge destrier a dozen or more paces away from everyone else. As Linden approached, the beast rolled its eyes in terror or fury: the muscles of its flanks quivered. Yet it stood stiffly under the Harrow’s steady hand. The bottomless gulfs of his eyes regarded her hungrily, but did not attempt to draw her into their depths. A smile like a smug obscenity twisted his mouth. In order to face him, she had to remind herself grimly that his power was like his apparel, acquired rather than innate. Behind his condescension and his greed and his complex magicks, he was a more ordinary man than Liand of Mithil Stonedown, who had inherited the ancient birthright of his people.

If Linden could have closed her senses to the company behind her, she would have done so. But her nerves were still too raw; too exposed. Involuntarily she felt the Ranyhyn move until they formed a wide circle around Covenant and Mahrtiir and the Cords, Liand and the Humbled. There the star-browed horses stood as if to bear witness. And among the Ranyhyn, the Giants assembled. Even the attention of the Elohim was fixed on Covenant rather than on Linden and the Harrow.

Only Stave walked away from the Manethrall’s efforts to care for the first Ringthane. Alone the outcast Haruchai came to stand with Linden.

She did not want to follow what Mahrtiir was doing, she did not. In spite of her efforts to seal her senses, however, she felt his tension and concern as he accepted a treasure-berry from Pahni and broke it open with his teeth to remove the seed. He could not know what would happen when he fed aliantha to Covenant. He could only remain true to himself—and put his trust in the Land’s largesse.

Carefully he parted Covenant’s lips to accept the fruit. Then he began to stroke Covenant’s throat, encouraging the unconscious man to swallow.

Linden glared into the Harrow’s eyes as if she were impervious to his assumed superiority. Hoarsely she rasped, “You said that you can take me to my son.”