“Will they attack the Ardent?” asked Linden. “Galt and the others?”

Long days ago, they had assailed the Harrow without warning.

“Not while the Unbeliever holds their allegiance. They see no future for the Land which does not rest with Thomas Covenant.”

Linden sighed to herself. She also saw no future—But that was not her concern. She had other needs to meet.

Once again, she faced the challenge of the Harrow.

—it is the nature of avarice to mislead. She could not guess what secret intentions might lie hidden beneath the surface of his oath. Nevertheless she was sure of one question that he had not answered.

“All right,” she murmured when silence had fallen around her. Staring into the Harrow’s blackness, she said, “I know what I’ve offered you. I know what you’ve sworn to do if I keep my end of the bargain. But I don’t know why you still care. The Worm of the World’s End is coming.” How had he known that she would rouse the Worm? “What can you possibly gain with my Staff and Covenant’s ring?” He had conceived his desires before the silence of Covenant’s spectre had provoked her determination to attempt Covenant’s resurrection. “You aren’t crazy enough to think they can protect you when the Arch collapses. But you’ve avoided telling me what you think you can accomplish.

“You said that Infelice is wrong about ‘the Earth’s ruin.’”—no doom is inevitable—“I want you to explain what you’re going to do once we’ve rescued Jeremiah.”

“I will not,” the Harrow retorted at once. “The Ardent’s assertions are specious. My purposes are my own. I will not speak of them to those whose aid I do not require.”

Before Linden could muster a response, the Ardent put in, “Doubtless you desire to say nothing of such matters. I must assure you, however, that you will not remain silent.” He sounded supremely confident—and secretly fearful. “You cannot be blind to the might with which I have been entrusted. The lady, and only the lady, will interpret the terms of your vow. That benison has been vouchsafed to her, in answer to your greed. You will satisfy her, or you will quell your hunger for her instruments of power.”

“If I do so,” the Harrow protested hotly, “the Earth entire must perish.”

“Perchance,” admitted the Ardent. He seemed untroubled by the prospect. “Or perchance you are mistaken. My concern—and the forces which I am able to invoke—pertain chiefly to the lady’s contentment in her dealings with you.”

“I will not—” the Harrow tried to insist.

The Ardent interrupted him. With a troubled smile, the beribboned Insequent asked, “Must I demonstrate the puissance invested in me?”

Linden sensed a struggle between the two men, although no aspect of their contest was visible to ordinary sight. The Ardent continued smiling while the Harrow scowled. If they tested each other, they did so in a way that resembled the Mahdoubt’s eerie battle with the Harrow. Linden half expected one or the other of them to flicker and fade—