Finally she stretched out her care to the most dangerous wounds of the Ranyhyn. She did not know how else to thank them for all that they had done in her name.

While she worked, a hush filled the hall. Pahni, Liand, and Mahrtiir regarded her gravely. The older Master held his peace. None of the other Haruchai made a sound. The Ranyhyn and even the lesser horses ceased their restive stamping, their snorted whimpers.

Huddling together, the Waynhim tended to each other in silence, while the urviles licked their wounds.

When she was done, a wave of exhaustion broke over her, and she nearly faded from consciousness. She had been under too much strain for far too long. The Staff's strength lapsed in her tired hands, restoring the darkness of the forehall, leaving her isolated in her personal night.

Then Mahrtiir said softly, "My thanks, Ringthane,"

and she roused herself with a jerk. Perhaps she would be able to rest later: she could not do so now. She had other responsibilities which she did not mean to ignore.

"You are Linden Avery the Chosen," announced a nearby voice, "and you hold both white gold and the Staff of Law. Stave has spoken of you. I am Handir, by right of years and attainment the Voice of the Masters.

In their name, I bid you welcome."

His tone suggested his scars and his age, in spite of its lack of inflection.

"Good for you," Linden muttered gracelessly. The forehall was as dark as a tomb. It seemed crowded with fears and suffering; demands which she did not know how to meet. "If we're so welcome and all, how about giving us some light?"

Stave had saved her by bringing her here. Without the aid of the Masters, she would not have been able to keep her companions, or herself, alive. But he had also betrayed her. His people would imprison Anele. And they might well do the same to her.

Jeremiah had tried to warn her The horses nickered and snorted, clattering their distress against the stone floor with their hooves; but no one answered Linden's query until Mahrtiir rasped, "It is the Ringthane who asks it, sleepless ones. She has ridden Hyn of the Ranyhyn across fifteen score leagues and uncounted centuries to this fell place. Will you disdain even her?"

As if in response to the Manethrall's indignation, a torch sputtered and took flame at the far end of the forehall, away from the gates. It revealed a Master carrying an armload of brands. Without haste, he began distributing torches among his people.

Vaguely Linden wondered how many Haruchai had not ridden out to meet the Demondim. How many losses could they sustain, and still hold fast to their convictions?

Were there enough Masters to defend the Keep?

As small fires spread from brand to brand, a flickering light slowly filled the hall. It cast ambiguous shadows among the people and horses until they resembled Demondim, fading in and out of definition.

Liand remained mounted behind Handir, two other Masters, and Mahrtiir's stallion. As soon as she met the Stonedownor's worried gaze, he said, "My sight fails, Linden. Soon I will be reduced to what I was in Mithil Stonedown." The thought clearly grieved him, but he set it aside. "Yet I see naught to trouble me. But my heart misgives me still. I do not trust these Masters, though they have snatched us back from death."

For his sake, she sighed, "We're safe enough,"

although her voice shook, "at least for now. They may be Masters, but they're still Haruchai. They'll take care of us as well as they can."

And they would do so as long as they could, with Demondim massed beyond the gates, and the power of the Illearth Stone rampant against them.

Handir waited until she was finished. Then he informed Liand, "I have bid you welcome. In the Chosen's name, I have welcomed you all. Has this no meaning among Stonedownors?"

Facing Linden again, he asserted, "We have become the Masters of the Land because we are Haruchai.

While Revelstone stands, you are guests among us, and need fear no harm."

"Does that include the urviles?" she asked promptly.

"And the Waynhim? None of us would have survived without them. Even Stave-"

Her throat closed. Too many Haruchai lay dead beyond the Keep's gates. The Demondim may have already assumed their corpses "We know nothing of their needs," the Voice of the Masters said inflexibly. "They will be released to the plateau of Glimmermere, where they may care for themselves as they are able."

At his words, one of her fears fell away. She had once visited the eldritch lake of Glimmermere: she had seen the unassailable purity of its waters. And she had heard long ago that the plateau above and behind the promontory of Lord's Keep was guarded by sheer cliffs for many leagues. In Glimmermere's vicinity, the Waynhim and urviles would be beyond the immediate reach of the Demondim; safe as long as the Masters could hold back the horde.

A moment of yearning for the cleanliness of the tarn undermined Linden's attention, and she missed what Handir said next. Something about the Ranyhyn-?

Because he appeared to expect a response, she murmured distantly, "Thank you. I'm sorry I haven't been more gracious. We've been through a lot."

And her difficulties were far from ended. Entering into Revelstone had merely transformed them.

Before Handir could reply, Mahrtiir snapped, "The Ringthane may accept your wishes, Bloodguard. The Ramen do not. The Ranyhyn will not submit to your care. Rather you will release them also to the upland plateau, where they will be tended by the Ramen, and where they may remain or depart, as they choose. To propose otherwise is arrogance.

"And your welcome is without substance. You avow that you will provide for our safety 'while Revelstone stands.' That is scant comfort, sleepless one. You cannot cast down the Demondim, and are utterly surpassed by the Illearth Stone. Yet you make no preparation for defense."

Shadows shifted ominously across the Manethrall's visage. "You name yourself 'the Voice of the Masters: Heed my voice, Bloodguard. The gates of Revelstone are mighty, but they will not long remain unbreached.

Ere the sun sets, the Demondim will enter this hall, and then it will be revealed that your welcome is as empty as your arrogance. If the Ringthane does not preserve you, the Masters will perish from the Land."

The gates, Linden thought unexpectedly. Something about the gates Handir continued to regard her for a moment as though he wondered whether Mahrtiir spoke for her.

Then he turned impassively to the Raman.

"You are mistaken, Manethrall, in many things." If the Master felt either impatience or scorn, his tone concealed it. "We have offered to care for the Ranyhyn because we seek to do them honor. They have been too long absent from the Land, and we have craved their return. But we intend no disregard toward the Ramen.

Nor will we gainsay your word. The Ranyhyn will be released, as you have instructed, and you will tend to them."

Handir paused, apparently offering Mahrtiir an opportunity to respond. But the Manethrall said nothing, and his fierce glare seemed to defy the Masters. With a shrug, Handir continued his reply.

"Preparations against the Demondim have begun, though you do not witness our efforts. As you have observed, we cannot equal the might of the Demondim.

Therefore the watchtower is being filled with wood and oil, and made ready for fire. Any approach to the gates of Revelstone will fall in flames."

And rise again, Linden thought darkly, until you run out of fuel. If the gates hold at all.

They troubled her for some reason. There was a question that she wanted to ask, but it eluded her. She was too tired to remember "Other preparations also have begun," the Voice of the Masters promised. "You may partake in them, and in the defense of the Keep, if that is your desire."

Still Mahrtiir glared at the Master on Linden's behalf, and said nothing.

Again Handir shrugged. The Haruchai with him did not react to Mahrtiir's bel ligerence.

"In one matter, however," explained Handir, "you have spoken sooth. No defense will ward us from the evil of the Illearth Stone. Yet at present the Demondim do not if wield it against us. Nor do they approach the gates.

For reasons which we do not comprehend, they appear content to remain at some distance, ensuring that we cannot flee, but threatening us in no other form.

"We have heard your voice, Manethrall. Hear mine.

Until we have determined how we must respond to the Chosen, we have no better course than to make our guests welcome as best we may."

Abruptly Linden jerked up her head. Responsive to her mood, Hyn took a step or two forward, moving between Mahrtiir and the Voice of the Masters.

"The gates," Linden said. "Now I remember. Where in hell did you get gates?"

When she had entered here three and a half thousand years ago, there were no gates below the watchtower.

They had been destroyed long before. And the Sandgorgon Nom had shattered the Keep's inner defenses at Covenant's behest. Yet now both sets of gates were closed: great interlocking stone doors which sealed the Keep as effectively as blank walls.

Stave had said that Giants still visited the Land Handir paused as if he were consulting with his people.

Then he asked, "Do you require to speak of this now, Chosen? You are weary. Your questions will be answered when you have rested."

"I don't know how to trust you," Linden countered thinly. "Stave knows why. Tell me about the damn gates."

Handir met her gaze with the ambiguous light of the torches in his eyes. "They were gifted to Revelstone by the Giants of the Search. More I will not say now. We will speak of all that lies between us when you are better able to do so.

"Here is Gait." With a nod, he indicated a Master standing behind his shoulder. "He will guide you to chambers where you may sleep. We will gather on the morrow to speak of your plight, and of Revelstone's. There your questions will be answered." Linden nodded. "All right. That's fair enough, I guess. God knows I'm exhausted,"

so tired that she could barely keep her thoughts in order. "So are my friends. "There's just one more thing."

One more absolute responsibility. Then she would let herself sleep. With an effort, she pushed down the rising force of her weariness, and looked around for Anele.

She spotted him across the hall from her just as two Masters reached up to lift him down from Hrama's back.

He was still asleep. Otherwise he would not have suffered their touch without protest. But he roused as soon as they took hold of him, and immediately began to struggle, thrashing against them as if the touch of their hard hands burned him.

Reacting to Anele's distress, Hrama whinnied sharply.

The other Ranyhyn tossed their heads and stamped their hooves anxiously. But they did not move against the Haruchai.

However, Hyn answered Linden's swift alarm by shouldering her way between the warriors and their horses toward the old man. Alert now, and frantic, Linden shouted over the crowd, "Just a minute! Anele stays with me!"

In her hands, she held up the Staff like a threat.

At once, half a dozen Masters came together across her path, forming a barricade against her. Hyn shoved at them with her chest, then stepped back, awaiting Linden's will.

"God damn it," Linden protested, "aren't you listening?" She could have swept them apart in an instant; but she would not. No matter what happened, they were not her enemies. "I said he stays with me! I promised him my protection."

"Protect!" the old man panted as he twisted against the grasp of his captors. "Linden Avery! Protect Anele!"

Impassively Handir joined the barrier of Masters. The torches cast indecipherable shadows across his face.

Galt stood at Hyn's head as if his mere presence might restrain the mare.

Mahrtiir moved quickly to Linden's side, with Pahni and Liand close behind him. Like Linden, the Stonedownor had not yet dismounted. Apprehension and resolve clenched his face.

"The old man is ours," announced Handir. Stave had said the same when he had first captured Anele, after the collapse of Kevin's Watch. "We do not permit freedom to such beings."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Linden snapped back. "Not this again. Hasn't Stave talked to you? Don't you people ever learn?"

Gasping, and unable to break free, Anele abruptly ceased his struggles. His blind gaze reproached Linden.

She did not doubt that Hyn and Rhohm could have thrust past the Masters. No Haruchai would lift his hand against the Ranyhyn. But that forbearance might not extend to her and Liand-or to the Ramen-in spite of Handir's welcome.

"Sure," she went on, "he's full of Earthpower. So are the Ranyhyn. He can do things other people can't. So can they. That doesn't make them a threat. His power isn't something he uses. It's something he is.

"Hasn't Stave told you that he loves the Land as much as you do? That the only thing he wants is to be of use?" Anele's helpless stare tore at her heart. "He can't forgive himself for losing the Staff until he does something to make restitution." And his madness made that impossible. "That's why being a prisoner hurts him so much. He can't do anything to help the Land when you've got him locked away."

Handir may have shrugged. "Yet the Earthpower within him cannot be set aside. Therefore his deeds will serve Corruption, whatever his intentions may be.

And therefore we will not release him."

Furiously Linden turned to scan the hall for Stave. She had healed him. More than once-He could vouch for Anele.

She found him moving slowly toward her. His wounds had left him painfully weak. Nevertheless he spurned his frailty, holding up his head as though he defied anyone to challenge him.

"Stave," she urged at once, "tell them. You heard Anele's story. You know what he's been through.

You've seen what he can do. Tell them."

As if in response, Stave walked arduously past her to join the barricade between her and the old man.

When he had positioned himself among his kinsmen, he faced her. "Chosen," he said in a wan voice, "you also do not appear to learn. Again you have shamed me with your healing. And I have permitted you to lift the burden of my failures from me. Do you now imagine that my people will heed whatever I might say?

"Anele will not be harmed. That is the given word of the Haruchai. There is no need to fear for him."

But I promised him! Linden wanted to cry out. Yet she knew that she could not sway the Master. She could not sway any of them.

She felt like tearing her hair in frustration. "I can stop you," she told Handir through her teeth. "You know I can."

The Voice of the Masters shook his head. His gaze did not waver. "You hold great powers. Yet if we determine that we must wrest them from you, do you truly doubt that we will prevail?"

Her worst fear Perhaps he could see into her heart. He may have known that she would not strike out at him.

"Linden." Carefully Liand leaned from Rhohm's back to rest his hand like an appeal on her arm. "They have offered us rest and sustenance, which we sorely need.

Many of them were slain to procure our escape. And they have vowed that they will not harm Anele. Would it not be well to grant them their will until the morrow, when we may speak of him again?"

If we're still alive, Linden thought bitterly. If the Demondim haven't torn this whole place apart.

Mahrtiir made a spitting sound, but did not protest.

Helpless in the hands of the Masters, Anele's gasping sounded like sobs.

Linden did not glance at Liand. Instead she glared into Handir's flat visage.

"He's terrified of you. With good reason, as it turns out. If you hurt just one hair on his poor old head-" Abruptly she thrust her face closer to the Master. Whispering, she warned him, "If you do that, I'll know whose side you're really on."

Before Handir could respond, she turned Hyn and rode away to the far end of the forehall, seeking to lose herself in shadows because she could no longer bear the reproach in Anele's eyes.

while later, still fuming, she entered the chambers which had been prepared for her and closed the door on Galt; nearly slammed it in his face. He was the only Master present, and her distress required an outlet.