Abruptly they froze as if their minds had been seized by an alien thought. For an instant, their consternation was so plain that Covenant almost took pity on them. But the sickening hue of emerald writhed in their hands; and the moment passed.

“Others,” they said more strongly. “You ask of others. We do not comprehend. But they speak of him by false names and affronts. One we are commanded to utter.” They rolled their eyes in strange terror. “It is Horrim Carabal.”

At once, they ducked their heads as though they expected to be struck down for blasphemy.

Ah, hell! Covenant thought. The lurker—The idea staggered him, even though the Feroce had already implied it clearly enough. The lurker had become a deity to these creatures? That was something he should have been able to remember—

“How—?” he began in confusion. “You worship that—?” Then he took hold of himself; crossed his arms on his chest to contain his chagrin. “Never mind. I don’t need to know. What I need to know is, who are you? Where do you come from? And why do you live in the Sarangrave? Were you made there? Did you end up there from someplace else?”

Why did they know enough about the Land’s history to speak of the jheherrin, the sur-jheherrin, and the Pure One?

“We are the Feroce,” the creatures insisted anxiously. “You are aware of this. You cannot be unaware. You are the Pure One. You bore tokens of power foretold to the jheherrin. You brought about the downfall of the Maker and the Maker-place. You redeemed our far ancestors from enslavement and terror.”

They nodded together, indicating compliance to some form of command. “You are the Pure One,” they said again. “You have spoken with the jheherrin. You have been aided by them. We do not comprehend your question. Were you unaware that the numbers of our ancestors were too vast to be counted? Were you unaware that they had no wish to remain in their perilous tunnels when the Maker-place had fallen? They were the soft ones. For an age, they feared to depart. But as the region of their former horror declined increasingly to dust and death, and the Maker’s lingering evil waned, they resolved to seek the water and mud of a kinder home.”

As they spoke, their voice took on more complex rhythms. In their minds, apparently, their tale required a different cadence. “Many and many of them, aussat Befylam, fael Befylam, roge Befylam, others too fearful to endure your sight, all who sought to repay the gift of life with life—all endured the long labor northward, bitter and loathsome, questing always from water and mud to water and mud in search of a new habitation. Were you unaware of this?”

“The sur-jheherrin told me a few things,” Covenant admitted reluctantly. “I guessed a few. But that doesn’t answer my question.”