“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—

Behind her, Covenant had reached the krill. Now he walked around it, studying it as he talked softly to the Humbled, the Swordmainnir, the Cords. As ever, Linden could not discern the emotions of the Haruchai; but she felt Bhapa’s growing bafflement, Pahni’s yearning to stand with Liand. The Giants listened with perplexed attention, as if Covenant spoke a foreign tongue.

Abruptly the Harrow shrugged. He betrayed no sign of strain as he shifted his attention from the Ardent to Linden.

Without preamble, he announced, “Infelice conceives that I crave your son’s supernal gifts for my own use. In this her sight is clear.”

In an instant, everything changed for Linden. Shock like a brush of flame burned her skin from head to foot: realities seemed to reel and veer: the bottom fell out of her heart, into the Harrow’s eyes. Gasping for breath, she tried to cry out, You bastard, you son of a bitch! But she failed. You want to use him? After everything that he’s already suffered?

The Ardent beamed at her as though the outcome of his insistence pleased him.

“Linden!” protested Liand. “Your son? Is this Insequent as heartless as he names the Elohim?”

Oh, God. With an effort, Linden forced herself to breathe; fought for steadiness. She had not yet surrendered her powers: she could still make choices.

She alone will determine what is encompassed by your oath and what is not.

The Ardent had implied that he would prevent the Harrow from doing anything to Jeremiah without her consent. She could afford to hear the rest of the Harrow’s self-justification.

That thought or hope or blind wish enabled her to demand through her teeth, “Go on.”

“Yet Infelice is ignorant,” the Harrow explained, “of the precise use which I desire. She imagines—and dreads—that my intent resembles the Vizard’s. This is the ‘eternal loss’ which she abhors. She deems that I desire a prison for the Elohim—and that I am witless enough to believe that the Worm will withdraw from harm if it is deprived of its natural repast.