“Now, however”—the former Master shrugged—“matters stand otherwise. Now you do not consider that Liand acted according to his own desires, or that Anele did not plainly or loudly or vigorously demand the orcrest, or that you had companions who might have been better able to heed the old man at that moment. Nor do you consider that the deed of Liand’s death was Kastenessen’s. Rather you demean all who stand with you by believing that there can be no other fault than yours, and that no fault of yours can be condoned. Doing so, ‘You tread paths prepared for you by Fangthane’s malice,’ as Manethrall Mahrtiir has said. Thus you emulate High Lord Kevin.

“In your present state, Chosen, Desecration lies ahead of you. It does not crowd at your back.”

Linden reeled in her seat. Had her mount been anything less than a Ranyhyn, she might have fallen to the ground. Stave said, Desecration lies ahead of you, as if he meant, I perceive only that her need for death is great.

God in Heaven! How bad was it? How fatal had her personal failures become? Had she gleaned nothing from Liand’s death, or Anele’s, or Galt’s; or from She Who Must Not Be Named? From the rousing of the Worm of the World’s End?

Did you sojourn under the Sunbane with Sunder and Hollian, and learn nothing of ruin?

Yet the world did not reel. The Ranyhyn did not falter, or feel faint. Those weaknesses were hers alone. Narunal and Khelen were moving along the foot of a high wall like a fortification, knuckled and obdurate; visibly impenetrable. After a score of paces, however, they turned upward and disappeared as if the stone had swallowed them. Behind them, Rime Coldspray beckoned to the rest of the company. Then she, too, was gone.

When Hynyn and Hyn reached that spot, Linden found that her companions had entered a narrow defile like a cleft in the gutrock. There the stone was cut as if it had been smitten by a titanic axe. The crevice was too strait to allow either Stave or Grueburn to remain beside her: the company was forced to file upward singly. But the steep clutter of the surface did not impede the Ranyhyn; and the Giants knew stone as if it were the substance of their bones.

Hynyn and Stave must have discovered this route during the night.

Desecration lies ahead of you.

Enclosed by uncompromising walls, she could not have turned aside to save herself from falling rocks or flung spears or theurgy. Jeremiah was beyond her reach in the gloom. Crude rock brushed against her knees. At intervals, she had to lean left or right to avoid an outcropping. Grueburn’s tense breathing carried up the crevice, magnified by echoes.