More power throbbed behind Infelice. Jeremiah appeared to be finishing his second wall, the other side of a doorway or passage. In another moment or two, he would commence the next phase of his construct, whatever that might be.

He needed more time. But Linden was too stunned to think. The eternal end—? Infelice was right about one thing: Linden could not grasp the concept. Lord Foul intended that? And she had run out of questions or arguments. Soon she would have no means to delay her antagonist except Earthpower or wild magic.

“Nonetheless, Elohim,” Stave said unexpectedly, “your own comprehension is flawed.” He remained standing with his arms closed across his chest, as impassive as Jeremiah, and as unmoved. “I acknowledge that your undying thoughts surpass mine, or the Chosen’s, or indeed those of the Ranyhyn. Yet when you speak of the shadow upon your heart, you speak in contradictions.

“In Andelain, you averred that your spirits are darkened by ‘the threat of beings from beyond Time.’ You cited the Chosen and also the Unbeliever, and I doubt not that you include this boy in your tale of darkness. You described them as ‘beings both small and mortal who are nonetheless capable of utter devastation.’”

Linden remembered. By his own deeds, Infelice had said, the Despiser cannot destroy the Arch of Time. He requires your aid, Wildwielder, and that of the man who was once the Unbeliever.

“To content you,” Stave continued, “I will also acknowledge that the presence in the Land of ‘beings from beyond Time’ has been chiefly caused by Corruption, if not by his own hand then by the efforts of his servants.”

Infelice lifted an elegant eyebrow. The ire of her chiming receded into a more cautious mode. Apparently the Haruchai had caught her attention.

At her back, Jeremiah turned away from the walls or sides of his construct. With strength that astonished Linden, far more strength than he should have possessed, he retrieved the largest of his gathered bones, the single intact femur, and raised it over his head. His muddy gaze regarded nothing as he carried the massive bone to his structure and set its length across the tops of the walls like a lintel.

When he had sealed the femur in its position, the vibration of his created magic rose to a higher pitch. Linden felt its hum in her own bones. Waves of power made her skin itch as if every inch were a wound newly healed.

But Stave did not pause; gave no sign that he was aware of Jeremiah or theurgy.