Yet he had already conceded more than she could have expected from him.

he might have closed her eyes then and slept; let vitrim and the Staff work within her undisturbed. But Liand was too restless to leave her alone. And she had been postponing his questions for hours. Sighing to herself, she gave up on sleep in order to relieve some of his imposed ignorance.

While she told him tales of her time with Thomas Covenant, one rambling anecdote after another in no particular order, the Waynhim began to busy themselves around the cave. At first she wondered what they were doing; but then she saw that they were preparing a meal. Apparently they did not live on vitrim alone-or did not expect their guests to do so.

i From a side tunnel, they produced a stone pot shaped like a cauldron. One of their flaming urns they placed near the center of the chamber; and when they had muttered over it for a few moments, intensifying its heat with chants and gestures, they balanced the larger pot on top of it. Then they began sorting ingredients which Linden could not identify into the cooking pot.

As they worked, she continued to talk; and gradually her oblique narrative began to take on another purpose. Instead of answering questions Liand did not how know to ask, she mined her memories: words were the picks and shovels with which she delved for courage and insight. And the names of her lost friends were an incantation. By their magic, she created a place for herself in the Land, a role-and imagined herself able to fulfill it.

"I thought that the Sunbane and the Ravers were as bad as things could get. For a long time, I didn't think I would ever see anything worse than the shedding of the Haruchai." Through the Clave, Lord Foul had attempted genocide against Stave's ancestors, draining their blood to feed the Banefire. "But when Caer-Caveral was gone, and the Sunbane broke into Andelain for the first time-"

The people and places and needs that she remembered explained her to herself.

"Lord Foul was responsible for all of it," she said quietly. "He isn't called the Despiser and Corruption for nothing. He's contempt and despair. Every time any being or power tramples on life, he's there.

Laughing-"

Only the agony of an entire world could appease his own innominate anguish.

"I'm sure there are times when I act like I've lost my mind. I probably confuse the hell out of you. But you already know what's happening for me. Whenever I do something that looks insane, just remember that Lord Foul has my son."

When she stopped at last, she found all of the attention in the chamber focused on her. The Waynhim had paused in their preparations to regard her as they would an oracle. Mahrtiir's concentration was as precise as a hawk's. Even Stave's posture conveyed an unexpected impression of respect.

Liand had been listening with wonder on his face. As she looked at him, however, he drew an unsteady breath and shook off his entrancement.

"Now I am able to grasp why Anele is troubled when he speaks of 'astonishment. I know not how to name what you have become to me. I feel that I have gained the experience of years in these past days, and every fact or detail which once seemed com monplace has taken on a new significance.

"To my eyes, you do not appear 'insane: Rather you surpass my capacity for expression. When you speak of that which you have done, and of those whom you have known, you appear to inhabit a realm of antiquity and grandeur. I would say that at your side I seem paltry to myself, yet that belies what is in my heart, for it is not I who am diminished, but rather you who are exalted."

He glanced around the cave as if he sought confirmation, but only Mahrtiir nodded an acknowledgment. Stave and the Waynhim simply studied Linden and listened as if the fates of worlds were being decided; and Anele sprawled on his ledge, sleeping soundly.

Linden did not know how to respond. If he believed that she occupied "a realm of antiquity and grandeur," how could he understand that she was terrified and confused, or that she depended on his uncomplicated support?

After a moment, she said, "It isn't like that. I'm more ordinary than you think." Covenant fit Liand's description. She did not. "I just can't afford to let it get in my way."

Holding the young man's gaze, she added, "Do you think that I belong in this position? That I was born to wield tremendous powers and make decisions that could affect the world? No. I do it because I don't know how else to fight for what I love." Or for herself.

"If Lord Foul hadn't kidnapped Jeremiah, I wouldn't even be here."

As she spoke, her weariness seemed to slip from her shoulders, shrugged aside by the importance of what she was trying to say.

"That makes you braver than I am," she told Liand.

"Don't you know that? You didn't have to leave Mithil Stonedown. You didn't have to help me. Hell, as far as you knew, there wasn't even anything at stake. But you did it anyway.

"You did it because you didn't believe in your own life.

The Masters made it too small for you, and you jumped at your first chance to make it bigger."

Let Stave take offense if he would. She had not kept secret her reaction to what his people had done.

"If there's anyone here," she pronounced like an article of faith, "who deserves to 'inhabit a realm of antiquity and grandeur,' it's you. And Mahrtiir." She met the Manethrall's gaze briefly. "Bhapa. Pahni.

You're less selfish than I am. You haven't lost a helpless kid who needs you. Instead you decided to risk your entire lives for the simple reason that you consider it worth doing."

In response, Liand regarded her as though she had lifted him out of himself. All of the Waynhim continued to study her closely, and Mahrtiir's eagerness for battle shone in his eyes.

But Stave stood near the center of the chamber with his arms folded across his chest and his emotions hidden. His native reticence defied her discernment.

But the scar under his eye caught the light of the urns and gleamed redly.

0l ventually the Waynhim resumed their preparations; and Linden watched them, haunted by Esmer's dark promises. Too many of them will perish if you do not contrive their salvation. He might conceivably have been referring to the harm h that the creatures suffered from the Staff; but she did not believe so. He had spoken too often of betrayal.

When she realized that she was fretting, she asked the Manethrall if Pahni and Bhapa should be warned of the danger. He assured her, however, that the Cords had been trained as hunters and scouts; sentinels for the great horses. No doubt the urviles were wary as well: they had their own reasons to distrust Esmer.

And the senses of the Ranyhyn were preternaturally acute. They would be able to detect any threat before it fell upon the Waynhim.

With as much patience as she could muster, Linden waited for the creatures to ready their meal.

Fortunately they did so without further delay. Using wooden ladles, they filled stone bowls with a steaming broth that looked like sludge and smelled like stagnant pond water. These they offered to their guests before partaking themselves.

In spite of its superficial reek, the steam curling from the bowls spoke to Linden's senses of much-needed sustenance. The aura of the broth was redolent with nourishment; and she was surprised to find that she was hungry. Her first sip threatened to gag her, but the second went down more easily, and the third she swallowed almost eagerly.

Meeting her glance, Liand gave her a rueful smile.

Politely he consumed some of his broth. Then he set down his bowl with an air of relief and turned to assist Mahrtiir with Anele.

Together Liand and the Manethrall roused the old man and encouraged him to sup.

While she ate, Linden studied the stone of the cave, trying to read its old, slow, imponderable sentience, as Anele sometimes did. With the Staff in her lap, she thought for a moment that she could detect hints of knowledge in the clenched rock. But her human mind slid past them too rapidly to be sure of their presence.

Because her attention was elsewhere, she did not notice Pahni's approach until the Cord appeared at the mouth of the outward tunnel.

The young woman-Linden still thought of her as a girl- ventured hesitantly into the cave. She may have feared to interrupt some important conclave or invocation.

Her face was set, however, and she did not allow timidity or selfconsciousness to hold her back.

Avoiding the Waynhim, she advanced toward Linden and Mahrtiir.

All of the creatures stopped what they were doing and turned to consider her with their moist nostrils.

Liand flashed a broad smile at the Cord. But the pleasure fell from him when he recognized the quality of her determination.

Instinctively Linden rose to her feet. She held the Staff upright beside her, its heel planted on the floor, as if she meant to call forth its power.

Mahrtiir stood also; and Stave joined them. Liand mopped unceremoniously at a spill of broth in Anele's beard, then surged erect as well.

Hurrying now, the young woman offered them a quick Ramen bow.

The Manethrall replied with a brusque nod. "Speak, Cord. We have awaited some word of what transpires in the night."

In the night-? Linden was surprised to realize that so much time had passed. Darkness would limit even the unquantified perceptions of the Ranyhyn.

"Manethrall." Pahni bowed again reflexively. Her voice held a tremor of anxiety as she said, "Shortly before sunset, Esmer came among us. He attempted to draw the Ranyhyn away." She frowned to mask a distinctly Ramen disdain. "I had not thought him so foolish. He should have known that they would not abandon their riders." "He is troubled," Mahrtiir replied. His tone made it clear that he did not consider being troubled an adequate excuse.

Pahni nodded. "Yet we were concerned, Bhapa and I, for he spoke slightingly to us, foretelling death. Then he departed, though we could not name where or how he had gone.

"Because of his words, we widened our guard over the Ranyhyn. Still we found no sign of peril.

"Shortly after moonrise, however, came Naharahn-the proud mare who has shown me such honor-"

Abruptly the Cord fell silent, flustered by her awe and gratitude. Mahrtiir did not rush her.

When Pahni had taken a deep breath to steady herself, she was able to continue.

"Naharahn made it known to me that something discomfited her. What it was I could not determine by scent or sight or sound. But Whrany, who bears Bhapa, felt likewise disturbed. And their unrest spread swiftly among the other Ranyhyn."

To herself, Linden groaned. She was not ready to attempt another caesure. But she did not interrupt the Cord.

"Sure of them," Pahni finished, "Bhapa has descended toward the plains, seeking the cause of their concern. Before he departed, however, we agreed that you must be forewarned."

As she said this, Pahni looked through her lashes at the Manethrall as if she half ex pected him to reprimand her for leaving her assigned duties.

He did not. Instead he said, "You have done rightly.

Return now to the Ranyhyn." In spite of his apparent calm, his voice held a rising eagerness. "We will follow when we have offered our respect to the Waynhim."

With another nod, he dismissed the Cord.

Bowing once more, Pahni turned and hastened, fleet as a colt, out of the cave.

I.

Liand watched her go as if he wanted to run after her; but he made no move to leave Linden's side.

"It comes," Stave said impassively. Outside the cave, Esmer's dark hints were approaching fruition.

Mahrtiir nodded, eager as a blade. He looked like a man who could hear the call of battle.

Linden leaned heavily on the Staff. She was weary yet, deeply in need of rest; entirely unprepared. Yet this was the moment for which she had been waiting. Now the nature of Esmer's betrayal would declare itself, and she would know what she had to do to save the Waynhim and her companions.

The Staff was a powerful tool, fraught with dangerous possibilities; but it could not help her return to her proper time. Somehow she would have to find her way back to wild magic.

"Linden?" asked Liand. "Does your knowledge of the Land suggest a name for this disturbance?" He glanced at Stave. "Is this another dark wonder which the Masters have concealed from us?"

"I don't know." Abruptly she pulled herself upright.

She had needs more profound than rest. At this moment, they began with the Waynhim, although they extended far beyond her ability to measure them.

"Stave will tell us as much as he can. When the time comes."

Esmer had asked, How will you bear the burden of such powers? Either alone will transcend your strength. Together they will wreak only madness Apparently he had always intended to "help" her face his betrayal by removing the barrier that his presence imposed on her access to Covenant's ring. "Mahrtiir is right," she added. "It's time to go."

At once, she turned toward the waiting creatures.

The Waynhim knew what threatened them: she was certain of that. Like the urviles, they understood Esmer's intentions better than she did. Yet they had made no obvious move to prepare a defense. And she suspected that they would not, unless she led the way.

Surrendering the Staff, they had to some extent made her responsible for the outcome of their lives.

"I wish you could tell me what's coming," she said gravely. "I can't even imagine how much danger I've put you in." She had brought Cail's son to them. "But it doesn't change my debt to you. I don't know what would have happened to the Staff without you-or what would happen to the Land-but I think we would all be doomed.

"One thing I'm sure of. You did the right thing.

You've been faithful to your Weird."

With all the dignity she could muster, she bowed, holding the Staff before her in acknowledgment. Then, so that she would not falter, she turned to Stave and said, "We've waited long enough. Let's find out how bad this is."

The Haruchai also bowed to the Waynhim, as did Mahrtiir and Liand. Then the Stonedownor urged Anele to his feet; Mahrtiir hastened into the lead; and Stave accompanied Linden across the cave toward the egress.

As she and her companions passed, the creatures formed a wedge and followed more slowly, chittering encouragement or farewells to each other.

The angle of the tunnel beyond the cave soon blocked out the light. With the last reflected glow of the urns behind her, Linden could see nothing ahead. At her back, the bare feet of the Waynhim made a faint susurrus on the stone. The sound seemed to pursue her, sibilant and apprehensive, echoing softly about her ears like supplication.

Too many of them will perish Trepidation confused her steps; but Stave guided her with a light touch on her arm, ensuring that she did not stumble. The warm certainty of the Staff also sustained her. And soon the darkness receded on either side as the tunnel opened into the ravine, and the night sky spread a swath of starlight overhead.

Sand yielding under her boots, she walked along the bottom of the ravine toward the open night of the foothills.

There Mahrtiir awaited her with Pahni. When Linden and Stave reached him, the Manethrall announced in a contained whisper, "Cord Bhapa has not yet returned.

The Ranyhyn remain on the hillside above us. They are restive, for the peril draws near. But they will not flee it." His tone suggested pride in the great horses.

"If you will heed my word," he added, "we will mount so that they may respond swiftly to your desires."

Bhapa had only one good eye. His night vision would be hampered "What about the urviles?" Linden asked, whispering as the Manethrall did.

"An unwary foe," he replied, "might deem that they have abandoned us, but they have not. Rather they have secreted themselves among the shadows below us." Between Linden's company and the advancing danger. "Doubtless they will attempt surprise on our behalf." He considered the hillside briefly, then said, "It may be, also, that they seek to distance themselves from the Waynhim. If so, they are wise. The Demondimspawn will not readily trust each other, or fight in each other's defense."

Linden peered down the slopes, looked for some hint of the creatures. But she found none. Their lore and their blackness concealed them from her senses.

Yet she could see better than she had expected. Above the jagged line of mountains distant in the east, a sallow moon a few days from its full had risen, shedding its wan light, bilious and unresolved, over the rumpled foothills and sprawling plains. Tn that uncertain illumination, the undulations of the lowland seemed to seethe gradually toward the horizon, ponderous and fluid as seas, and the shallow vales and clefts which defined the hills were crowded with darkness. The vague shapes of the Ranyhyn, off to her right and uphill from her, were as ill-defined as shadows.

"Ringthane," insisted Mahrtiir. "Will you mount?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. First I want you to talk to them." She meant the urviles. "You or Pahni.

They'll understand.

"Tell them to come when they hear me shouting." If she succeeded at tearing open a Fall-and if she could devise no other response to the peril- "I don't care how they feel about the Waynhim. I won't be able to save anyone who isn't near me."