“In every age of the Lords, we were assured that Fangthane is a bodiless evil. Aye, he is able to master or discard physical substance at will. And doubtless his theurgies are capable of tangible manifestation. Yet his essence is incorporeal. In this, he resembles the Ravers, who wield no direct force when they do not possess a host.

“How, then, was Kelenbhrabanal’s murder effected?” The Manethrall had slipped into a reverie of sadness. As he spoke, he turned his head slowly from side to side as if he were searching for insight. “If Fangthane assumed flesh to slay the Father of Horses, he risked physical death under Kelenbhrabanal’s hooves. And Kelenbhrabanal was too great a sire to be overcome by the manner of magicks which Fangthane wields indirectly.

“Yet Kelenbhrabanal was indeed slain. His blood was shed. Generation after generation, the Ramen have asked of themselves, How? By what means was Kelenbhrabanal’s life torn from him?

“What crime do the Ranyhyn grieve, apart from betrayal?”

There Mahrtiir recovered his ire. His tone became sharper; more insistent. And as his manner changed, Linden’s attention sharpened as well. She had never considered his questions, but she could guess where they might lead.

In the horserite, she had learned that the Ranyhyn felt shame. At the time, she had understood how and why they faulted themselves for Elena’s fate. But now she suspected that Mahrtiir would offer a deeper explanation. Obliquely he might reveal why beasts as knowing and sufficient as the great horses gave others the same selfless service that they received from the Ramen.

“We merely speculate among ourselves,” the Manethrall stated. He still spoke softly, but his underlying anger was plain. “We possess no knowledge of such matters. Yet the fear which the Ranyhyn evince toward the lurker of the Sarangrave—toward that evil and no other—is certain. Thus in our minds the mystery of Kelenbhrabanal has become entwined with the fear of the Ranyhyn, another mystery. And we surmise, having no assurance of truth, that the lurker was the means by which Fangthane slew the Father of Horses.

“Perchance we are mistaken. Fangthane has never lacked servants to do his biding. Yet the pith of our speculation remains. Among those evils which the Ramen have encountered, none but the lurker daunt the Ranyhyn. And we are certain that the great horses have not forgotten Kelenbhrabanal’s death. Their recall is renewed in every horserite across the generations, mind to mind, until each mare and stallion knows treachery and terror. For that reason, we surmise, they grieve, and cannot rule their fear, and are ashamed.”

Hearing the Manethrall, Linden understood his anger—and perhaps Hynyn’s as well. Covenant’s farmhouse still burned in the background of her mind: she had her own causes for shame. But Mahrtiir’s guesswork raised the question that she had not asked.