She was done with him as well. He had failed her. Ignoring the Giants, and the chagrin among the Ramen, she tried by force of will to keep Covenant from slipping away again.

“What about Jeremiah? You know everything that’s happened since Lord Foul killed you. Maybe you know everything that’s ever happened. Lord Foul touched him before I came here with you ten years ago. According to Roger, the Despiser owns him.” He’s belonged to Foul for years. And the Mahdoubt had said, a-Jeroth’s mark was placed upon the boy when he was yet a small child—“Is that true?”

Had Jeremiah invited the croyel to possess him? Was there no hope for him at all?

For a moment, Covenant ducked his head as if Linden had shamed him. But he did not fall. When he looked at her again, his mouth was twisted with anger, and his eyes caught a combative gleam from the krill.

“I did what I could,” he said as if the words were stones, heavy and undeniable, “without risking the Arch. Maybe it was enough. If it wasn’t, we’ll make it enough. That boy doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him. Hellfire, Linden, he was practically a toddler. I refuse to believe he made choices then that can’t be undone.”

Briefly Covenant glanced away as if he were gazing into unfathomable distances. “There are things the Despiser doesn’t understand. He can’t. No matter how clever he is. Like the Creator—like all of us—he has his blind side. Some things he just doesn’t see.”

Then his attention returned to Linden so fiercely that she seemed to feel his hands holding the sides of her face, compelling her, although he had not stepped toward her or raised his arms.

“Listen to me, Linden. None of the love you lavished on your son was wasted. That isn’t even possible. Until we know more about what’s happened to him, just trust yourself.”

Abruptly Stave spoke. In a peremptory tone, as though he had missed an opportunity and meant to recapture it, he asked, “Ur-Lord, is it conceivable that the Creator has forsaken the Chosen and the Earth because he is no longer needed?”

A wince of surprise or regret twisted one side of Covenant’s mouth. “Ah, hell,” he sighed. “Why not? Anything is conceivable. At least until the Worm gets enough to eat.”

“On that matter, Giantfriend,” put in Rime Coldspray before Stave could continue, “have we been given sooth? Is the time remaining to us measured in days rather than in hours?”

Covenant nodded with a hint of his earlier abstraction. “Berek’s right. Creating realities takes time. So does destroying them. I’m not part of the Arch anymore. I can’t protect it. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to crumble while we stand here talking about it.”

Stave did not waver. “Ur-Lord,” he insisted, “is it conceivable that the Creator’s abandonment benefits his creation?”

Covenant scowled at the outcast Master. “Think that if you want. Hell, believe it if you can. It’s as good as any other explanation. I can’t imagine what the benefit might be. But maybe that’s just one of my blind spots.” Harshly he concluded, “Anything is better than giving up.”