Against All Things Ending (13 page)

Smiling down at his fellow Insequent, the Ardent stated, “We will in no way intrude upon your bargain with the lady, or upon your purposes thereafter. Indeed, I am instructed to assist them. The long strictures of our kind we will honor. Nevertheless I am come to impose this condition, that the lady herself must be the sole arbiter of the terms of your oath.”

For an instant, the Harrow looked shocked. Then outrage darkened his features. He appeared to be mustering a curse as the Ardent insisted, “She alone will determine what is encompassed by your oath and what is not. Nor will we deem your oath fulfilled until she declares that she is content.

“Also,” he proclaimed ostentatiously, “I will accompany you in the name of all those Insequent whom you have invoked. Doubtless you contemplate some escape from your oath, which I will prevent. And it may chance that you will require my aid.”

Contradicting his florid manner, a haunted look darkened his gaze when he spoke of aid. But it was brief; gone almost as soon as Linden noticed it.

She blinked at the two men as if she were dazed. Too much had happened: she could not think clearly.—abide by your oath and yet betray—How was it possible that the Ardent’s apprehensions made no sense to her? Her desire to redeem her son must have wider implications than she had realized. But she felt entirely unable to imagine what they were.

Abruptly Mahrtiir growled, “Have done, Insequent. The Ringthane has friends enough. Your pretense of concern conveys naught. Speak plainly or desist. Name the betrayal contemplated by the Harrow, that we may gauge the worth of your intent.”

The Ardent inclined his head to acknowledge Mahrtiir. Unexpectedly grave, he replied, “Manethrall, I cannot. Think no ill of me when I observe that any effort to shape or guide the lady’s deeds and choices will be seen—and seen rightly—as dire interference. My mission is to ensure the terms and fulfillment of the Harrow’s oath, not to instruct the lady in their interpretation.

“Misliking the Harrow as I do, I would find no small joy in thwarting him. Have I not admitted that I, too, am prone to greed? But here I personify the united will of the Insequent. Any deviation from that resolve will breach the sacred prohibition which enables the Insequent to endure and prosper. Answering you, I will bring down my own destruction and accomplish only sorrow.”

Linden had heard such reasoning before. Both the Theomach and the Mahdoubt, in their distinct fashions, had presented similar arguments.

When she understood that the Ardent was trying to walk a path as straight and strict as theirs—that his ambiguities were necessary to the singular ethics of the Insequent—she at last found her voice. Hardly knowing what she meant to say, she suggested unsteadily, “In that case, let’s play fair. If the Harrow can’t ride, you shouldn’t sit there looking down on him.”

Or on her.

The Harrow flashed her a glance that she could not read. The emptiness of his eyes swallowed the character of his reaction.

The Ardent surprised her again by emitting a loud guffaw. “Well said, lady. Doubtless you merit the Mahdoubt’s regard, ill-considered though your many extravagances may appear to be. I am neither mightier nor less flawed than the Harrow. I have merely been elected to enact the will of the Insequent.”

Laughing again, he sent out streamers of chartreuse and fuligin on all sides, bands interwoven with crimson and cerulean. They seemed to float independent of him, as though they might tug free at any moment. But he did not loose them—or they did not loose themselves. Instead, by some means that baffled Linden’s senses, they caused his mount to disappear.

Unlike the Harrow, however, he did not fall. Cradled in ribbands, he drifted gently to the grass as if his bulk were as light as air.

Delighted by his display, the Giants laughed with him. Obviously pleased, the Ardent gazed up at them with the open wonder of a child. Flapping his arms, he caused his apparel to unfurl and cavort in a glad gambol.

Their momentary mirth did not touch Linden. But it gave her a chance to gather herself and think. While the Harrow ground his teeth, waiting in vexation for the laughter to subside, she tried to guess where the potential for betrayal might lie in his vow.

Peripherally she was aware of Covenant and his escort. Ignoring or avoiding her and the Insequent, he had walked the Humbled and their accompaniment of Giants and Ramen to the rim of the hollow. There, however, he turned and began to move slowly back toward the dead stump and Loric’s
krill
. His manner still seemed disjointed, torn between understanding and bewilderment. He had not yet found his way back to the present.

Grasping at allusions, Linden asked Stave quietly, “What are they talking about?” With a nod, she indicated Covenant and the Masters. “Has Covenant explained the Theomach? Or the Insequent?”

Stave could still hear the mental communion of the
Haruchai
, although he had learned to close his own thoughts against them. In a low voice, he answered, “The ur-Lord does not speak of the Theomach. His offer to do so he appeared to forget when it had been uttered.” He may have meant, When it had accomplished its purpose by distracting the Humbled. “Rather he rambles forward and back through the most ancient history of the
Haruchai
, relating tales which none have forgotten. The Giants appear gladdened to hear of unfamiliar events. Saying nothing, the Cords remain wary of the Humbled.”

“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—

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.

“But I am not such a fool. The
Elohim
are little more than Earthpower made sapient. If the Worm cannot feed upon them, it will devour other sustenance until it attains the culmination of its hunger. In this, it resembles any beast. To imprison the
Elohim
will gratify my pride. It will gain naught else.

“Lady—” The Harrow hesitated briefly; glanced at the Ardent. Then he shrugged again. “It is my intent to wield both Law and wild magic in your son’s service. With such forces at his command, he will possess might sufficient to devise a gaol into which the Worm must enter, and from which it will be unable to emerge. This you cannot accomplish in my stead. The reasons are many. I will cite two.

“First, you lack my knowledge of such theurgies. Regardless of your own desires and extremity, you do not comprehend the precise form of aid which your son will require. You cannot be guided by insights which you have not earned. Through your intervention, your son’s failure will be assured.

“Second, he alone is not adequately lorewise to fashion the gaol I envision. He has not been granted centuries of study in which to perfect his gifts. Therefore I must rely upon the connivance of the
croyel
.”

Linden understood him immediately; involuntarily. The
croyel
: the dire succubus which she had last seen feeding on Jeremiah’s neck, draining his life and mind while it gave him power. Swift as instinct, she grasped that the Harrow meant to leave
her son
under that vicious being’s control. The dark Insequent needed more than Earthpower and wild magic and Jeremiah’s talent for constructs: he needed the
croyel
’s specific powers and knowledge.

The mere idea filled her with fury. For Jeremiah’s sake, she wanted to strike the Harrow down, stamp out his life. And for Jeremiah’s sake, she restrained herself. She believed the Harrow’s claim that he alone could take her to her son.

“Will you permit this?” Liand flung his own anger and dismay at the Ardent. “Is this the measure of your kind, that you are careless of a child’s pain? Was the Mahdoubt alone in her compassion?”

The Ardent twisted his features into an expression of distress. His ribbands spun ambiguously about him, signaling emotions that meant nothing to Linden. But he did not answer.

She alone will determine
—
Nor will we deem your oath fulfilled
—

“You still aren’t telling the truth,” she insisted. “You’ve wanted my power ever since we first met. You wanted Jeremiah and the
croyel
. But you didn’t know that I was going to wake up the Worm. You couldn’t. How am I supposed to trust you now?”

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.”