They were as Branl had described them: no taller than his shoulders, hairless and naked, with large eyes like pools of reflected silver and emerald. Each of them flinched at its first sight of the krill: each shied as far as it could from the gem’s blaze without touching Branl. When they looked past the light at Covenant, they conveyed the impression that they were cowering.

In the cups of their hands, they carried flames like promises of disease. Despite their alarm, they had an air of malice suppressed or denied. Perhaps they would have flung themselves at Covenant, if they had dared to do so. Instinctively he believed that they had been spawned by Mount Thunder’s ancient poisons.

They avoided the krill with their eyes and remained silent. They may have been waiting for Covenant to speak.

Scowling as though he had the right to sit in judgment, he said nothing.

Finally one of them of them raised its voice. “We are the Feroce.” But he could not tell which one spoke: the words seemed to come from all or none of them. And the voice had a peculiar sound, damp and undefined, like wet mud being forced past an obstruction. Their mouths and throats may not have been formed for language. Their speech may have been an effect of theurgy rather than of physical utterance.

Masking his own anxiety with feigned hauteur, Covenant replied, “I’ve heard you. You want an audience. You want an alliance for your High God. We’ll get to that. Tell me something first. Convince me to trust you.

“You say you’ve attempted harm. That was your first purpose. What did you do?”

With their flames, the three Feroce made timid gestures like attempts at placation. “Our High God sustains us,” they responded in their single voice. “In his agony, he speaks to us. He speaks through us. We obey his commands. Without him, we are dust. We cannot part from the waters of the Sarangrave.

“Havoc draws ever closer.” More and more, they appeared to cower. “The havoc of all life. You are aware of this. You cannot be unaware. Our High God has felt it.

“He desires life. He desires power. He must have might, and greater might, and still greater might, lest he perish. All other enmity must be set aside.

“A female of your kind wields a stick of immense potency. Of this you are also aware. You cannot be unaware. Our High God yearned for it. At his command, we strove to lure it from her. We failed. He was wounded. He cannot obtain life by that means.”

Covenant swore behind his scowl. Linden—! Fiercely he demanded, “Did you hurt her? Did you hurt her?”

The Feroce flinched like threatened children. Emerald flames guttered and spat in their hands. “We made the attempt. We failed. Now we are here.”