By degrees, however, she lapsed to numbness again.

Step after step, her walking became a kind of ambulant doze. Guided by the Ramen, she made her slow way toward the center of the Verge of Wandering, and did not notice how far she had come.

Yet around her more and more Ramen appeared out of the grass, answering the summons of Hami's Cords.

From the crest of the arete, Linden might have believed the vale empty, but it was not. When she finally shook herself out of her somnolence, she found that perhaps three score Ramen had joined her companions. Most of them were Cords, garrotes at their waists, hair flying loose; but three or four wore their hair as Hami did, tied back by their garrotes, and around their necks were garlands of amanibhavam.

And still more of them merged with the company as Linden took note of them. Soon they became a throng among the grass. Yet somehow they sifted through it rather than trampling it down. In spite of their numbers, she could hardly tell where they had been.

She had not expected to find so many of them thriving here: five or six score now, with more continuing to arrive. Before long, however, she noticed that they had no children among them-and no old men or women.

Two or three of the Manethralls had grey in their hair, and their scars had acquired the pallor of years. A certain number of the Cords appeared older than those who followed Hami. But no children? No grandmothers or grandfathers?

Either the Ramen were dying as a people, or they had left all those who could not fight elsewhere.

Or both.

What had happened to them during their centuries of exile from the Land?

Plain Linden might have questioned Hami then, although the Manethrall had made it n that she did not wish to speak prematurely. But as Linden's concern grew, she 'aght her first glimpse of their destination.

It appeared to be a dwelling of some kind, a tall, opensided construct planted in the grass. Bare poles at the corners, and at intervals along the sides, supported a lat, ticed ceiling of smaller wooden shafts like latias; and sod had been placed over the lattice to form a roof of deep grass. Within this shelter lay mounds of grass and bracken, and a scattering of bundles like bedrolls; and at its center a space had been cleared for a ring of hearthstones and a cooking fire.

Two Cords tended the fire, apparently preparing a meal, while others came forward with their Manethrall to join the Ramen around Linden.

And beyond this dwelling stood others, she could not see how many, all with open sides and sod roofs. Now she knew why she had not been able to spot any structures from the vantage of the ridge: their design camouflaged them.

Yet the vale was treeless. The Ramen must have dragged their poles and latias from somewhere beyond the surrounding mountains. Presumably, then, the camp was not a temporary one, but rather a habitation either permanently or regularly occupied.

Still Linden saw no children; no aged Ramen.

Moving between the shelters, Hami and the Ramen escorted Linden, Liand, Stave, and Anele into a broad open circle where the grass had been worn to stubble and dirt by the passage of many feet. This clearing might have been visible from the ridge: it was certainly wide enough to stand out from the surrounding grass.

The height of the shelters around it must have concealed it.

At the edge of the circle, Cords led Somo aside, promising to tend the pinto well; and Linden and her companions were invited into the center of the clearing.

"This, Ringthane," Hami announced quietly, "is the Ramen place of gathering. Here we will share food so that you may rest and regain your strength. In this way, we hope to encourage ease between us. Then we will take counsel after the fashion of the Ramen. We will speak of ourselves, and you will tell us your tales, that there may be friendship between us."

Linden began to acquiesce automatically; but the Manethrall forestalled her. The crowd around her had shifted. All of the Cords had withdrawn to the rim of the clearing taking Anele with them. Only Manethralls surrounded Linden and her companions "But above all there must be understanding," Hami said more sternly, as if she spoke for all her people.

"You will also be challenged. Thus we will distinguish honor from treachery."

Oh, God. An involuntary wince twisted Linden's mouth.

Liand turned to her in alarm: obviously he had not expected this of the Ran 't"'

re.

Stave opened his mouth to protest; but Hami stopped him with a harsh gut U Still addressing Linden, she said, "We desire friendship with you, Ringthane. Y'o 'e been hunted by kresh, and have eaten aliantha.

Of your own spirit and lore, you ha brought Cord Sahah back from death when we could not. Also you bear that which commands respect, a ring of white fire such as Thomas Covenant wielded against the Render. If friendship is ours to give, we will offer it gladly."

Linden did not react. Challenged? Treachery? Had she been stalked to this? Exposed to it by Anele's compelled silence?

Who here had tried to prevent Anele from speaking?

"To Liand of Mithil Stonedown as well," the Manethrall continued, "we mean no harm. We see that he is honest, though he has little skill. It would please us to welcome him without mistrust."

Liand watched Hami anxiously, his eyes full of conflicted reactions.

The Manethralls glanced at him as Hami said his name, then returned their attention to Linden. They studied her in silence, somberly, as if they were prepared to pass judgment.

Finally Hami indicated the Haruchai with a nod.

"In your name, Ringthane, we would welcome Stave of the Bloodguard also. Our grievance against his kind is ancient and enduring. Yet the Bloodguard were long Fangthane's foes, until they were twisted from fealty.

For that reason, we do not wish to spurn him, though the sleepless ones have become Masters now, diminishing the people of the Land."

Stave faced the Manethralls without expression.

Linden could not read his emotions, but his aura felt as blunt and uncompromising as knuckles.

Still she did not speak. For no clear reason, she found herself wondering if any urviles occupied the valley.

Had those dark creatures played some role in the attitude of the Ramen? What was the connection between them?-the connection that Hami sought to conceal.

The woman met Linden's apprehension steadily.

"Yet I must say plainly that if you do not answer our challenges, all of the Ramen will stand against you."

Her voice carried the sound of implied nickering. "If you attempt no harm, you will be offered none. We will care for you as kindly as we may. But you will not be permitted to depart from us. Whether you wish it or no, we will retain you with us, that there may be no hazard of betrayal to the Land."

There the Manethrall paused, apparently awaiting a response.

Stave allowed himself a disdainful snort. "You are false with us, Manethrall. When You persuaded us to this place, you said nothing of challenges."

"Master," retorted Hami, "the past of the Bloodguard flows in your veins. How did You imagine that we would take counsel together, except by challenge?"

Unexpectedly the Haruchai nodded. He seemed to accept her answer. He may have "derstood it.

t "Linden?" Liand asked, nearly whispering. "Do you know of this? They cannot mean to measure us in combat? I may strike a blow as well as any Stonedownor, but I have no skill to match theirs. In this they have described me truly."

Linden shook her head, trying to face too many questions at once. But Manethrall Hami did not give her a chance to reply.

"Ringthane," she pronounced formally, "Linden Avery the Chosen, do you consent to all that I have said?"

Linden felt that she had no choice; that she had done nothing to determine her own course, or to help Jeremiah, since she had appeared on Kevin's Watch.

But the concern of all the Manethralls, and their essential goodwill, were clear to her; plain and palpable. She had no idea why they chose to behave as they did. Nevertheless she had nothing to fear from them, no matter how much they might seem to threaten her.

"Manethrall," she answered with a formality of her own, "I do. I don't know what you're worried about. I hope you'll explain it. But I respect your caution. I'll consent to whatever you want."

Then she added, "You've already accepted Anele. And I think Liand will agree with me." She did not wait for his nod: she trusted him to follow her example. "As for Stave-" She shrugged. "I get the impression that he knows more about what's going on here than I do.

He'll probably welcome a challenge."

In fact, however, the Haruchai appeared to have lost interest in the situation. He stood with his arms relaxed at his sides and his gaze fixed on the mountains as if he had decided to await the arrival of someone or something more worthy of his attention.

Then Hami bowed in the Ramen fashion. When Linden did the same, the gathered Manethralls relaxed somewhat.

At a word from Hami, the Manethralls turned toward the crowded ring of Cords; and at once the ring broke apart as the Cords hurried purposefully away. In moments, some of them returned carrying wooden blocks, apparently intended as seats, which they arranged in smaller circles within the clearing. Linden soon realized that they were preparing for a communal meal.

In the frugal lives of the Ramen, the occasion may have been considered a feast.

She did not need a feast: she needed rest. Liand wanted to talk to her, she could see that. No doubt he hoped that she might relieve some of his confusion.

And Sta'.e might have been willing to explain his unexpected air of indifference. But she bad had enough of them for the moment.

Ignoring her companions as well as the activity of the Cords, she sat down on one in her to of the wooden blocks, propped her elbows on her knees, and dropped her face hands. She needed to think. God, she needed Lord Foul had guided her to hurtloam-and then had sent kresh to hunt her down. He disavowed responsibility for both Kevin's Dirt and the Falls.

An Elohim had passed through Mithil Stonedown, warning Liand's people against the halfhand even though Thomas Covenant was long dead, and Jeremiah threatened no one.

Anele spoke repeatedly of skurj and the Durance.

Some being who might or might not have been Kastenessen had commanded him not to reveal what he had learned from the stones of the arrte.

Kastenessen himself should have passed out of name and choice and time tens of thousands of years ago.

The Ramen planned challenges for Linden and her companions. They had apparently lost or abandoned the Ranyhyn somewhere, although they had once been the inseparable servants of the great horses.

Occasionally Hami had hinted at other secrets.

Somehow the urviles had avoided Lord Foul's attempts to destroy them. Linden believed that they had enabled her escape from Mithil Stonedown.

The Despiser held Jeremiah. The Staff of Law had been lost.

Anele claimed to be the son of Sunder and Hollian, who had died three and a half millennia ago.

And somewhere Roger Covenant and his mind- crippled mother walked the Land, seeking ruin as avidly as Lord Foul himself.

It was too much; too much. Linden could not absorb it all, or find her way through it. Because she understood nothing, she could do nothing. Covenant was dead: her dreams, illusions. Anele spoke only when his madness permitted it; and then his revelations gave her no guidance. And Stave, she suspected, knew little more than she did. Denying the Land's past, the Masters also denied themselves.

Liand may have been right about them. Perhaps they feared to grieve.

She did not need a feast, or more stories. She had no use for unspecified challenges. Hell, she hardly needed life. She already had a bullet hole in her shirt.

She needed help.

ti'hen at last she lifted her head from her hands, she saw Anele standing on the grass beyond the edge of the clearing. A kind of fever shone from his blind face, and his whole body seemed to concentrate toward her.

He was beckoning as though he had heard her prayers and wished to answer them.

Briefly Linden considered ignoring him. Surely he would only confuse her further? Even from this distance, however, she could see that his madness had entered a new Phase, one unfamiliar to her. He was in the grip of an intention so acute that it made hint frantic.

Dusk had entered the vale while she counted her dilemmas. Behind the mountains, the sun declined from the Land, and their shadows filled the air with omens. Cold drifted furtively down from the heights. Soon the Ramen would be ready to share their meal, and the challenges would begin.

Sighing, Linden forced her stiff body upright and walked across the open ground to meet Anele among the grass.

As soon as she drew near, he reached for her with both hands; took hold of her shoulders and pulled her closer as if he meant to fling his arms around her.

"Linden," he breathed in a voice suffused with weeping. "Oh, Linden. I'm so glad to see you:'

A voice she knew.

Tears streamed from his moonstone eyes, shocking her as sharply as the sound of that voice in his mouth. She had seen him weep often; but this was different. Until this moment, she had never seen him shed tears of sympathy.

Sympathy and pleasure.

"I didn't think I would ever see you again." He spoke quickly, almost babbling, as if he had too much to say, and too little time. "I wouldn't have believed it. But it fits. It's right. You're the only one who can do this."

Thomas Covenant's voice.

She knew it as well as she knew her own, and loved it more. Through his madness, Anele spoke Covenant's words to her in Covenant's voice.

Her lungs heaved for air and found none. Covenant, she panted, nearly fainting. Oh, my love. The sound of him struck the whole vale to stillness. In an instant, the Ramen and all their doings had ceased to exist; lapsed to dreaming. Stave and Liand occupied the clearing in some other world, a dimension of reality which no longer impinged on hers. Her beloved did not speak to them.

Anele embraced her, a hard clasp with all the strength of Covenant's heart. Then he held her at arm's length so that he could gaze at her blindly. His eyes were awash in yearning.

"Linden," he said, "listen to me," still hurrying. "I don't have time. There's so little I can tell you."

Covenant was dead, here and in the world they had once shared. She had spent ten years grieving for him.

But this was the Land, and the Laws governing Life and Death had been broken.

She faced him mutely through her own tears, helpless to find words for her sorrow and rue. If she had opened her mouth, she would have sobbed like a child.

his only "The Law binds me in so many ways." Anele was Covenant's surrogate, voice. "If it didn't, it wouldn't be worth fighting for.

It he opposes me. Here, like this, he's stronger than I am. Poor Anele cant hold me. I'm already fading."

As he said so, she saw that it was true. The old man remained palpable before her. ht have hurt His fingers gripped her shoulders urgently: in some other life, they mig her But within him another form of lunacy struggled against Covenant's presence. In spite of Covenant's desire, and Anele's rapt submission, a rabid force gathered loathing to expel her love.

He opposes me. The same he who had commanded Anele not to speak earlier? Or some other foe?

Anele's madness now did not resemble his near-sanity on the ridge.

"You're in trouble here." Already her beloved's voice sounded like tatters, scraps of presence. "Serious trouble." She was losing him again. "You need the ring. But be careful with it." His death had nearly undone her. "It feeds the caesures."