The Harrow gave her a glare like an abyss. “Lady, I repeat that the Insequent do not utter falsehood. The awakening of the Worm was not necessary to my desires. For one with the knowledge which I possess, and with the powers which I will hold, the Worm sleeping would have been as readily ensnared as the Worm roused. Indeed, it was my first intent to deprive the Elohim of all purpose and worth forever, as well as to preserve the Earth from ruin, by ensuring that the Worm could not be roused.

“That is no longer possible. Therefore I have adjusted my intent to accommodate the extravagance of your folly.”

“All right.” Linden did not waste herself arguing with him. “Go on,” she repeated bitterly. “Finish this.”

The Harrow sighed; but he did not refuse.

“The croyel’s noisome magicks and cunning are essential to the achievement of my aim. This you will not permit while you remain able to prevent it. Thus it is necessary to the salvation of the Earth that I possess your Staff and the white gold ring, and that you do not.”

Linden looked to the Ardent. “And if that wasn’t my original understanding of our agreement? What happens then?”

Bands of color wafted up and down the Ardent’s form, signing certainty, masking alarm. “Then your will prevails, lady. The Harrow must abandon his purpose for your son, or he must set aside his craving for your instruments of power. The Insequent as a people will countenance no other outcome.”

Stave glanced at the group around Covenant and the krill. Then he turned his gaze on the Harrow.

“There is another matter to consider also. If Infelice has spoken sooth in aught, we must recognize that life cannot endure without death. The Worm of the World’s End is necessary to the Earth’s continuance. If your vaunt succeeds, and the Worm is imprisoned, will not this habitation cease to sustain life? Will not the whole of this creation become barrenness?”

“Well said, Haruchai,” muttered Mahrtiir. “The Harrow is derangement made flesh. His greed will hasten every destruction.”

Linden heard Stave; but her attention was fixed on the Harrow. Her heart thudded in her chest as though it had reached the limit of its endurance. If he called her bluff by recanting his claims—if he mastered his cupidity—Jeremiah would be lost to her. He would die alone in torment when the Earth perished.

“I’m waiting.” Her every word trembled. The Harrow had not acknowledged Stave’s query. “What’s it going to be?”

If he dared her to find Jeremiah without his help, she would surely crumble.