“But one of us ought to have a weapon of some kind. Wherever we’re going, we’re likely to need it. As long as Joan is still alive—as long as she has her ring—that knife can cut through practically anything.” For a moment, he faltered. “I hope that doesn’t make me ‘contemptuous of consequence.’”

While he appeared to search for words, Linden grasped her opportunity. Quickly she asked, “Where are we going?” She had no intention of taking Covenant—or anyone else—with her. “The Harrow doesn’t want to tell me.”

“Ah, hell, Linden,” Covenant muttered in disgust. “If I knew—if I could remember—I would say so.” With the heel of his halfhand, he thumped his forehead. “It’s such a mess in here.” Briefly a grin like a grimace distorted his face. “If you don’t want to hit me again, threaten me with hurtloam. It’s amazing how that helps me concentrate.

“But we’re going to need a weapon,” he resumed. “That I’m sure of. You shouldn’t have to do everything yourself. And this is my problem. I’ve already done too many things wrong. Even when I was part of the Arch, I was too human—

“I got you into this.” Earlier he had blamed himself for misleading her by speaking to her in her dreams, and through Anele. “I should at least try to help you save your son.”

As if he were bracing himself for an ordeal, he turned to confront Loric’s krill.

“Wait!” Linden said urgently. “Wait a minute. This isn’t what I want.” Mere moments ago, she had believed that she had surrendered everything. Now she saw that she had been mistaken. She also needed to prevent him from accompanying her; from taking any more risks for her sake. “You promised—”

Once, millennia ago in the Land, Thomas Covenant had avowed that he would never use power again.

“I know,” he repeated over his shoulder. “I was trying to make myself innocent. Impotent or helpless. I couldn’t think of any other way to stop Lord Foul.

“But you were right all along. Sometimes just being innocent or ignorant or even good isn’t enough. Maybe that’s always true. Maybe we’re all like Esmer. If we want to do good, we have to take the risk of evil. The risk that we actually are evil.”

In the background of Covenant’s voice, Linden seemed to hear Dr. Berenford. Guilt is power. When the old physician had first asked for her help with Covenant ten years ago, he had described the theme of one of Covenant’s novels. Only the damned can be saved.

Like Covenant, Linden was the prisoner of her memories.

“This won’t be the first promise I’ve broken,” he finished harshly. “Maybe it’ll be the last.”