The company hesitated. Honninscrave looked to the First for guidance. Linden tightened her grip on herself. Here any request might prove dangerous by playing into the hands of either the gaddhi or his Kemper.
But after a momentary pause the First said, “O gaddhi, the needs of our Giantship are even now being met at your decree. For this our thanks are unbounded.” Her tone held no more gratitude than an iron bar. “But your graciousness inspires me to ask a further boon. You see that my scabbard is empty.” With one hand, she held the sheath before her. “The Bhrathair are renowned for their weaponwork. And I have seen many apt blades in the Tier of Riches. O gaddhi, grant me the gift of a broadsword to replace that which I have lost.”
Rant Absolain’s face broke into a grin of satisfaction. He sounded triumphant and petty as he replied, “No.”
A frown interrupted Kasreyn’s confidence. He opened his mouth to speak; but the gaddhi was already saying, “Though you are my guest, I must refuse. You know not what you ask. I am the gaddhi of Bhrathairealm—the servant of my people. That which you have seen belongs not to me but to the Bhrathair. I hold it but in stewardship. For myself I possess nothing, and thus I have no sword or other riches in my gift.” He uttered the words vindictively, but his malice was directed at the Kemper rather than the First, as if he had found unassailable grounds on which he could spite Kasreyn. “If you require a sword,” he went on, “you may purchase it in Bhrathairain.” He made an effort to preserve his air of victory by not looking at Kasreyn; but he was frightened by his own bravado and unable to resist.
The Kemper met that glance with a shrug of dismissal which made Rant Absolain wince. But the First did not let the matter end. “O gaddhi,” she said through her teeth, “I have no means to make such a purchase.”
The gaddhi reacted in sudden fury. “Then do without!” His fists pounded the arms of his seat. “Am I to blame for your penury? Insult me further, and I will send you to the Sandgorgons!”
Kasreyn shot a look toward the Caitiffin. Immediately Rire Grist stepped forward, made a low bow. “O gaddhi,” he said, “they are strangers, unfamiliar with the selfless nature of your stewardship. Permit me to implore pardon for them. I am certain that no offense was intended.”
Rant Absolain sagged. He seemed incapable of sustaining any emotion which might contradict the Kemper’s will. “Oh, assuredly,” he muttered. “I take no offense.” Clearly he meant the opposite. “I am above all offense.” To himself, he began growling words like curses in the tongue of the Bhrathair.
“That is well known,” said the Kemper evenly, “and it adds much to your honor. Yet it will sadden you to turn guests away with no sign of your welcome in their hands. Perhaps another request lies within their hearts—a supplication which may be granted without aspersion to your stewardship.”
With a nameless pang, Linden saw Kasreyn take hold of his golden ocular, raise it to his left eye. A stiffening like a ghost of fear ran through the Chatelaine. Rant Absolain squeezed farther back in his throne. But the Kemper’s gesture appeared so natural and inevitable that she could not take her eyes away from it, could not defend herself.
Then he met her gaze through his ocular; and without warning all her turmoil became calm. She realized at once that she had no cause for anxiety, no reason to distrust him. His left eye held the answer to everything. Her last, most visceral protests faded into relief as the geas of his will came over her, lifted the words he wanted out of her.
“O gaddhi, I ask if there is aught your Kemper can do to heal my comrade, Thomas Covenant.”
Rant Absolain showed an immediate relief that the eyepiece had not been turned toward him. In an over-loud voice, he said, “I am certain Kasreyn will do all in his power to aid you.” Sweat made streaks through the paint on his face.
“O gaddhi, I serve you gladly.” The Kemper’s gaze left Linden; but its effect lingered in her, leaving her relaxed despite the raw hunger with which he regarded Covenant. Honninscrave and the First stared at her with alarm. Seadreamer’s shoulders knotted. But the calm of the Kemper’s geas remained on her.
“Come, Thomas Covenant,” said Kasreyn sharply. “We will attempt your succor at once.”
Brinn looked a question at Linden. She nodded; she could do nothing but nod. She was deeply relieved that the Kemper had lifted the burden of Covenant’s need from her.
The Haruchai frowned slightly. His eyes asked the same question of the Giants; but they did not contradict Linden. They were unable to perceive what had happened to her.
With a shrug, Brinn walked Covenant toward the Kemper.
Kasreyn studied the Unbeliever avidly. A faint shiver touched his voice as he said, “I thank you, Brinn of the Haruchai. You may leave him safely in my hands.”
Brinn did not hesitate. “No.”
His refusal drew a gasp from the Chatelaine, instantly stifled. Rant Absolain leaned forward in his seat, bit his lip as if he could not believe his senses.
The Giants rocked subtly onto the balls of their feet.
Explicitly as if he were supporting Brinn, Covenant said, “Don’t touch me.”
Kasreyn held his golden circle to his eye, said in a tone of tacit command, “Brinn of the Haruchai, my arts admit of no spectation. If I am to aid this man, I must have him alone.”
Brinn met that ocular gaze without blinking. His words were as resolute as granite. “Nevertheless he is in my care. I will not part from him.”
The Kemper went pale with fury and amazement. Clearly he was not accustomed to defiance—or to the failure of his geas.
A vague uneasiness grew in Linden. Distress began to rise against the calm, nagging her toward self-awareness. A shout struggled to form itself in her throat.
Kasreyn turned back to her, fixed her with his will again. “Linden Avery, command this Haruchai to give Thomas Covenant into my care.”
At once, the calm returned. It said through her mouth, “Brinn, I command you to give Thomas Covenant into his care.”
Brinn looked at her. His eyes glinted with memories of Elemesnedene. Flatly he iterated, “I will not.”
The Chatelaine recoiled. Their group frayed as some of them retreated toward the stairs. The gaddhi’s women crouched on the plinth and whimpered for his protection.
Kasreyn gave them cause for fear. Rage flushed his mien. His fists jerked threats through the air. “Fool!” he spat at Brinn. “If you do not instantly depart, I will command the Guards to slay you where you stand!”
Before the words had left his mouth, the Giants, Hergrom, and Ceer were moving toward Covenant.
But Brinn did not need their aid. Too swiftly for Kasreyn to counter, he put himself between Covenant and the Kemper. His reply cut through Kasreyn’s ire. “Should you give such a command, you will die ere the first spear is raised.”
Rant Absolain stared in apoplectic horror. The rest of the Chatelaine began scuttling from the hall.
Brinn did not waver. Three Giants and two Haruchai came to his support. The six of them appeared more absolutely ready for battle than all the hustin.
For a moment, Kasreyn’s face flamed as if he were prepared to take any risk in order to gain possession of Covenant. But then the wisdom or cunning which had guided him to his present power and longevity came back to him. He recanted a step, summoned his self-command.
“You miscomprehend me.” His voice shook, but grew steadier at every word. “I have not merited your mistrust. This hostility ill becomes you—ill becomes any man or woman who has been granted the gaddhi’s welcome. Yet I accede to it. My desire remains to work you well. For the present, I will crave your pardon for my unseemly ire. Mayhap when you have tasted the gaddhi’s goodwill you will learn also to taste the cleanliness of my intent. If you then wish it, I will offer my aid again.”
He spoke coolly; but his eyes did not lose their heat. Without waiting for a reply, he sketched a bow toward the Auspice, murmured, “With your permission, O gaddhi.” Then he turned on his heel, strode
away into the shadow behind the throne.
For a moment, Rant Absolain watched the Kemper’s discomfited departure with glee. But abruptly he appeared to realize that he was now alone with people who had outfaced Kasreyn of the Gyre—that he was protected only by his women and the Guards. Squirming down from the Auspice, he thrust his way between his Favored and hurried after the Kemper as if he had been routed. His women followed behind him in dismay.
The company was left with Rire Grist and fifteen score hustin.
The Caitiffin was visibly shaken; but he strove to regain his diplomacy, “Ah, my friends,” he said thickly, “I pray that you will pardon this unsatisfactory welcome. As you have seen, the gaddhi is of a perverse temper—doubtless vexed by the pressure of his duties—and thus his Kemper is doubly stressed, both by his own labors and by his sovereign. Calm will be restored—and recompense made—I assure you.” He fumbled to a halt as if he were stunned by the inadequacy of his words. Then he grasped the first idea which occurred to him. “Will you accompany me to your guesting-rooms? Food and rest await you there.”
At that moment, Linden came out of her imposed passivity with a wrench of realization which nearly made her scream.
FIFTEEN: “Don’t touch me”
Thomas Covenant saw everything. He heard everything. From the moment when the Elohim had opened the gift of Caer-Caveral, the location of the One Tree, all his senses had functioned normally. Yet he remained as blank as a stone tablet from which every commandment had been effaced. What he saw and heard and felt simply had no meaning to him. In him, the link between action and impact, perception and interpretation, had been severed or blocked. Nothing could touch him.
The strange self-contradictions of the Elohim had not moved him. The storm which had nearly wrecked Starfare’s Gem had conveyed nothing to him. The dangers to his own life—and the efforts of people like Brinn, Seadreamer, and Linden to preserve him—had passed by him like babblings in an alien tongue. He had seen it all. Perhaps on some level he had understood it, for he lacked even the exigency of incomprehension. Nothing which impinged upon him was defined by the barest possibility of meaning. He breathed when breath was necessary. He swallowed food which was placed in his mouth. At times, he blinked to moisten his eyes. But these reflexes also were devoid of import. Occasionally an uneasiness as vague as mist rose up in him; but when he uttered his refrain, it went away.
Those three words were all that remained of his soul.
So he watched Kasreyn’s attempt to gain possession of him with a detachment as complete as if he were made of stone. The hungry geas which burned from the Kemper’s ocular had no effect. He was not formed of any flesh which could be persuaded. And likewise the way his companions defended him sank into his emptiness and vanished without a trace. When Kasreyn, Rant Absolain, and the Chatelaine made their separate ways out of The Majesty, Covenant was left unchanged.
Yet he saw everything. He heard everything. His senses functioned normally. He observed the appraising glance which Findail cast at him as if the Appointed were measuring this Elohim-wrought blankness against the Kemper’s hunger. And he witnessed the flush of shame and dismay which rushed into Linden’s face as Kasreyn’s will lost its hold over her. Her neck corded at the effort she made to stifle her instinctive outcry. She feared possession more than any other thing—and she had fallen under Kasreyn’s command as easily as if she lacked all volition. Through her teeth, she gasped, “Jesus God!” But her frightened and furious glare was fixed on Rire Grist, and she did not answer the consternation of her companions. Her taut self-containment said plainly that she did not trust the Caitiffin.
The sight of her in such distress evoked Covenant’s miasmic discomfort; but he articulated his three words, and they carried all trouble away from him.
He heard the raw restraint in the First’s tone as she replied to the Caitiffin, “We will accompany you. Our need for rest and peace is great. Also we must give thought to what has transpired.”
Rire Grist acknowledged the justice of her tone with a grimace. But he made no effort to placate the company. Instead he led the gaddhi’s guests toward the stairs which descended to the Tier of Riches.
Covenant followed because Brinn’s grasp on his arm compelled him to place one foot in front of the other reflexively, as if he were capable of choosing to commit such an act.
Rire Grist took them down to the Second Circinate. In the depths of that level behind the immense forecourt or ballroom, he guided them along complex and gaily lit passages, among bright halls and chambers—sculleries and kitchens, music rooms, ateliers, and galleries—where the company encountered many of the Chatelaine who now contrived to mask their fear. At last he brought the questers to a long corridor marked at intervals by doors which opened into a series of comfortable bedrooms. One room had been set aside for each member of the company. Across the hall was a larger chamber richly furnished with settees and cushions. There the companions were invited to a repast displayed on tables intricately formed of bronze and mahogany.
But at the doorway of each bedroom stood one of the hustin, armed with its spear and broadsword; and two more waited near the tables of food like attendants or assassins. Rire Grist himself made no move to leave. This was insignificant to Covenant. Like the piquant aromas of the food, the unwashed musk of the Guards, it was a fact devoid of content. But it tightened the muscles of Honninscrave’s arms, called a glint of ready ire from the First’s eyes, compressed Linden’s mouth into a white line. After a moment, the Chosen addressed Rire Grist with a scowl.
“Is this another sample of the gaddhi’s welcome? Guards all over the place?”
“Chosen, you miscomprehend.” The Caitiffin had recovered his equilibrium. “The hustin are creatures of duty, and these have been given the duty of serving you. If you desire them to depart, they will do so. But they will remain within command, so that they may answer to your wants.”
Linden confronted the two Guards in the chamber. “Get out of here.”
Their bestial faces betrayed no reaction; but together they marched out into the hall.
She followed them. To all the hustin, she shouted, “Go away! Leave us alone!”
Their compliance appeased some of her hostility. When she returned, her weariness was apparent. Again the emotion she aroused made Covenant speak. But his companions had become accustomed to his litany and gave it no heed.
“I also will depart,” the Caitiffin said, making a virtue of necessity. “As occasion requires, I will bring you word of the gaddhi’s will, or his Kemper’s. Should you have any need of me, summon the Guard and speak my name. I will welcome any opportunity to serve you.”
Linden dismissed him with a tired shrug; but the First said, “Hold yet a moment, Caitiffin.” The expression in her eyes caused his mien to tense warily. “We have seen much which we do not comprehend, and thereby we are disquieted. Ease me with one answer.” Her tone suggested that he would be wise to comply. “You have spoken of four score hundred Guards—of fifteen score Horse. Battleremes we have seen aplenty. Yet the Sandgorgons are gone to their Doom. And the Kemper’s arts are surely proof against any insurgence. What need has Rant Absolain for such might of arms?”
At that, Rire Grist permitted himself a slight relaxation, as if the question were a safe one. “First of the Search,” he replied, “the answer lies in the wealth of Bhrathairealm. No small part of that wealth has been gained in payment from other rulers or peoples for the service of our arms and ships. Our puissance earns much revenue and treasure. But it is a precarious holding, for our wealth teaches other lands and monarchs to view us jealously. Therefore our strength serves also to preserve what we have garnered since the formation of Sandgorgons Doom.”
The First appeared to accept the plausibility of this response. When no one else spoke, the Caitiffin bowed his farewell and departed. At once, Honninscrave closed the door; and the room was filled with terse, hushed voices.
The First and Honninscrave exp
ressed their misgivings. Linden described the power of the Kemper’s ocular, the unnatural birth of the hustin. Brinn urged that the company return immediately to Starfare’s Gem. But Honninscrave countered that such an act might cause the gaddhi to rescind his welcome before the dromond was sufficiently supplied or repaired. Linden cautioned her companions that they must not trust Rire Grist. Vain and Findail stood aloof together.
With signs and gestures, Seadreamer made Honninscrave understand what he wanted to know; and the Master asked Brinn how the Haruchai had withstood Kasreyn’s geas. Brinn discounted that power in a flat tone. “He spoke to me with his gaze. I heard, but did not choose to listen.” For a moment, he gave Linden a look as straight as an accusation. She bit her lower lip as if she were ashamed of her vulnerability. Covenant witnessed it all. It passed by him as if he were insensate.
The company decided to remain in the Sandhold as long as they could, so that Pitchwife and Sevinhand would have as much time as possible to complete their work. Then the Giants turned to the food. When Linden had examined it, pronounced it safe, the questers ate. Covenant ate when Brinn put food in his mouth; but behind his emptiness he continued to watch and listen. Dangerous spots of color accentuated Linden’s cheeks, and her eyes were full of potential panic, as if she knew that she was being cornered. Covenant had to articulate his warning several times to keep the trouble at bay.
After that, the time wore away slowly, eroded in small increments by the tension of the company; but it made no impression on Covenant. He might have forgotten that time existed. The toll of days held no more meaning for him than a string of beads—although perhaps it was a preterite memory of bloodshed, rising like blame from the distance of the Land, which caused his vague uneasinesses; rising thicker every day as people he should have been able to save were butchered. Certainly he had no more need for the One Tree. He was safe as he was.
His companions alternately rested, waited, stirred restlessly, spoke or argued quietly with each other. Linden could not dissuade Brinn from sending Ceer or Hergrom out to explore the Sandhold. The Haruchai no longer heeded her. But when the First supported Linden, they acceded, approving her insistence that the company should stay together.