"You can't stop the Ravers," she said as though she had forgotten that the Forestal could sing the flesh from her bones. "You know that. When you kill their bodies, their spirits just move on."

He turned the piercing silver of his gaze on her as if she had offended him. But apparently she had not. In spite of his old anger, he did not strike out.

"Nevertheless," he countered. "I have a particular hunger-"

Again Linden interrupted him. "But there's going to come a time when one of them does die." Samadhi Sheol would be rent by Grimmand Honninscrave and the Sandgorgon Nom. "It can happen. You can hope for that."

She hazarded Time, and knew it. Speaking of the Land's future might alter Caerroil Wildwood's actions at some point during his long existence. But the Mandoubt did nothing to forestall or caution her. And Linden had already taken greater risks. She was done with hesitation. If she could do or say anything that might encourage the Forestal to side with her, she would not hold back.

However, his response was sorrow rather than grim antic.i.p.ation. His music became a fugue of mourning, interminable bereavement sung to a counterpoint of forlorn self-knowledge.

"While humans and monsters remain to murder trees, there can be no hope for any Forestal. Each death lessens me. The ages of the Earth are brief, and already I am not as I began."

Then his melody sharpened. But you have said that the death of a Raver will come to pa.s.s. How do you know of this'?"

Linden held his gaze. "I was there."

Her past was the Land's future. She hardly dared to imagine that Caerroil Wildwood would understand her, or believe. But her statement did not appear to confound him. Her displacement in time may have been as obvious to him as the stains on her jeans.

"And you played a part'?" he asked while the wide forest echoed his words avidly.

"I saw it happen," she replied steadily. "That's all." To explain herself, she added, "I wasn't what I am now."

When Thomas Covenant and his companions had faced the na-Mhoram in the Hall of Gifts, Linden had contributed nothing except her fears and her health-sense. But she had borne witness.

The Forestal withdrew his scrutiny. For a long moment, he appeared to muse to himself, harmonizing with the trees. Now the Mandoubt regarded him complacently. Under her breath, she made a humming sound as if she wished to contribute in some small way to the myriad-throated contemplations of Garroting Deep. When he sang in words again, he seemed to address the farthest reaches of his woods, or the black gibbet towering above him, rather than either Linden or her companion.

"I have granted boons, and may do so again. For each, I demand such payment as I deem meet. But you have not requested that which you most require. Therefore I will exact no recompense. Rather I ask only that you accept the burden of a question for which you have no answer."

The Mandoubt smiled with satisfaction; and Linden said. "Just tell me what it is. If I can find an answer, I will."

Caerroil Wildwood continued singing to the trees rather than to her. "It is this. How may life endure in the Land, if the Forestals fail and perish, as they must, and naught remains to ward its most vulnerable treasures? We were formed to stand as guardians in the Creator's stead. Must it transpire that beauty and truth shall pa.s.s utterly when we are gone?"

Surprised, Linden murmured, "I don't know." She had seen Caer-Caveral sacrifice himself, and he was the last. The Sunbane had destroyed every remnant of the ancient forests west of Landsdrop.

Still smiling, the Mandoubt said. "The Great One is aware of this. a.s.suredly so. He does not require that which the lady cannot possess. He asks only that she seek out knowledge, for its lack torments him. The fear that no answer exists multiplies his long sorrow."

"I will," repeated Linden, although she could not guess what her promise might cost her, and had no idea how she would keep it. Caerroil Wildwood was too extreme to be refused.

"Then I will grant that which you require." The Forestal sang as though he spoke for every living thing throughout the Deep.

At once, music gathered around Linden's grasp on the Staff. Involuntarily she flinched. Unbidden, her fingers opened. But the Staff did not fall to the ground. Instead it floated away from her, wafted by song toward the Forestal. When it was near, he reached out to claim it with his free hand; and his clasp shone with the same silver that illumined his eyes.

"This blackness is lamentable"*his tone itself was elegiac-"but I will not alter it. Its import lies beyond my ken. However, other flaws may be amended. The theurgy of the wood's fashioning is unfinished. It was formed in ignorance, and could not be otherwise than it is. Yet its wholeness is needful. Willingly I complete the task of its creation."

Then he sang a command that would have been Behold! if it had been expressed in words rather than melody. At the same time, he lifted his gnarled scepter. It, too, radiated silver, telic and irrefusable, as he directed its singing at the Staff.

Slowly a nacre fire began to burn along the dark surface of the shaft from heel to heel; and as it did so, it incised shapes like a jagged script into the wood. Radiance lingered in them after the Forestal's magic had pa.s.sed: then it faded, line by line in dying streaks of argent, until the Staff had once again lapsed to ebony.

Runes, Linden thought in wonder. Caerroil Wildwood had carved runes- A moment later, he released the Staff. Midnight between its bands of iron, it drifted through the air to Linden. When she closed her fingers around it, the shapes flared briefly once more, and she saw that they were indeed runes: inexplicable to her, but sequacious and acute. Their implications seemed to glow for an instant through the wound in her right hand. And as they fell away, she felt a renewed severity in the wood, a greater and more exacting commitment, as though the necessary commandments of Law had been fortified.

When the last of the luminance was gone from the symbols, she found that her hand had been healed. Pale against the black shaft, her human flesh too had become whole.

She had entered Garroting Deep bereft of every resource; exhausted beyond bearing; upheld by nothing except clenched intransigence-and thoughts of Thomas Covenant. But the Mandoubt had fed and warmed her. Comforted her. And now Caerroil Wildwood had given her new power. Gallows Howe itself had made her stronger. All of her burdens except the pressing weight of millennia and incomprehension had been eased.

Finally she roused herself from her astonishment so that she could thank the Forestal. But he had already turned to walk away with his threnody and his silver eyes. And as he pa.s.sed between the stark uprights of his gibbet, he seemed to shimmer into music and disappear, leaving her alone with the Mandoubt and the starlight and the ceaseless sorrowing wrath of the trees.

For a long moment, Linden and the older woman listened to Caerroil Wildwood's departure, hearing it fade like the future of Garroting Deep. Then the Mandoubt spoke softly, in cadences that echoed the Forestal's lorn song.

"The words of the Great One are sooth. His pa.s.sing cannot be averted, though he will cling to his purpose for many centuries. These trees have forgotten the knowledge which enables him, and which also binds the Colossus of the Fall. The dark delight of the Ravers will have its freedom. Alas for the Earth, lady. The tale of the days to come will be one of rue and woe."

With an effort, Linden shook off the Forestal's ensorcellment. She had been given a gift which seemed to hold more meaning than she knew how to contain. Yet it changed nothing. The task of returning to her proper time still transcended her.

Standing on wrath and death, she confronted her companion.

"I just made a promise." Her voice was hoa.r.s.e with the memory of her promises. She had made so many of them-"But I can't keep it. Not here. I have to go back where I belong."

Darkness concealed the strange discrepancy of the Mandoubt's eyes, giving her a secretive air in spite of her comfortable demeanor. "Lady," she replied, "your need for nourishment and rest is not yet sated. Return with the Mandoubt to warmth and stew and springwine. She urges you, seeing you unsolaced."

Linden shook her head. In this time, the Mandoubt had not referred to her as you until now. "You can help me.

That's obvious. You wouldn't be here if you couldn't move through time." Her urgency increased as she persisted. "You can take me back."

The Mandoubt seemed tranquil, but her tone hinted at sadness as she said, "Lady, the Mandoubt may answer none of your queries. Nor may she lightly set aside the strictures of your plight. Nor may she transgress the constraints of her own knowledge. a.s.suredly not." She touched the bare skin of Linden's wrist near the Staff, allowing Linden's nerves to feel her sincerity. "Will you not accompany her? The Great One cannot grant your desire, and this place"-she inclined her head to indicate Gallows Howe-"augurs only death.

"Will sustenance and companionship harm the lady? The Mandoubt inquires respectfully, intending only kindness."

Linden could not think of a reason to refuse. She felt a disquieting kinship with the Howe. And its blood-soaked earth held lessons which she had not yet understood. She was loath to leave it. But the Mandoubt's touch evoked a need that she had tried to suppress; a hunger for simple human contact. Jeremiah had refused her for so long-She could plead for her companion's help beside the cookfire as well as here.

With a stiff shrug, she allowed the Mandoubt to lead her back down the dead slope in the direction of food and the Black River.

The distance seemed greater than it had earlier. But once Linden and her guide had left Gallows Howe behind, and had spent a while moving like starlight through the bitter woodland, she began to catch glimpses of a soft yellow glow past the trees. Soon they reached the riverbank and the Mandoubt's cookfire.

To every dimension of Linden's senses, the flames looked entirely mundane, as plain as air and cold-and as ordinary as the Mandoubt's plump flesh. However, they had not died down while they went untended. The pot still bubbled soothingly. And its contents were undiminished.

Sighing complacently, the older woman returned to her place with her back to the thin trickle of the river. Squatting as she had earlier, she stirred at her pot for a moment, smelled it with contentment, then retrieved Linden's bowl and filled it. When she had set the bowl down near the warming flask of springwine, she looked up at Linden. Her blue eye regarded Linden directly, but the orange one appeared to focus past or through her, contemplating a vista that Linden could not discern.

"Be seated, lady," she advised mildly. "Eat that which the Mandoubt has prepared. And rest also. Sleep if you are able. Will your dreams be troubled, or your slumber disturbed? No, a.s.suredly. The Mandoubt provides peace as she does food and drink. That gift she may bestow freely, though her infirmities be many, and the years weigh unkindly upon her bones. The Great One will suffer our intrusion."

Linden considered remaining on her feet. She felt restless, charged with new tensions: she could not imagine sleep. And an impossible journey lay ahead of her. More than food or rest, she needed some reason to believe that it could be accomplished.

The Mandoubt had not come here merely to feed and comfort her, or to provide for her encounter with the Forestal: Linden was certain of that. While she remained in this time, she could not keep her promise to Caerroil Wildwood, or act on what she had learned from Gallows Howe, or try to rescue her son, or search for Thomas Covenant and hope- But the aromas arising from the pot insisted that she was still hungry. And the Mandoubt's intent was palpably charitable, whatever its limitations. Abruptly Linden sat down within reach of the cookfire's heat and set the Staff beside her.

Lifting the flask, she found it full. At once, she swallowed several long draughts, then turned the surface of her attention to the stew while her deeper mind tried to probe the conundrum of her companion. Doubtless food and drink and the balm of the cookfire did her good; but those benefits were trivial. In her present straits, even Caerroil Wildwood's gifts were trivial. What she needed most, required absolutely, was some way to return to her friends and Revelstone.

That she would never find without the Mandoubt's help.

When she was ready-as ready as she would ever be-she arose and took her bowl to the edge of the watercourse. There she searched by the dim glitter of the stars until she located a manageable descent. Moving cautiously through mud that reached the ankles of her boots, she approached the small stream. There she rinsed out the bowl; and as she did so, the Earthpower pulsing along the current restored her further. Then, heedless of the damp and dirt that besmirched her clothes, she clambered back up the bank and returned to the Mandoubt.

Handing the bowl to the older woman, she bowed with as much grace as she could muster. "I should thank you," she said awkwardly. "I can't imagine how you came here, or why you care. None of this makes sense to me." Obliquely the Mandoubt had already refused Linden's desire for a pa.s.sage through time. "But you've saved my life when I thought that I was completely alone." Alone and doomed. "Even if there's nothing more that you can do to help me, you deserve all the thanks I have."

The woman inclined her head. "You are gracious, lady. Grat.i.tude is always welcome-oh, a.s.suredly-and more so when the years have become long and wearisome. The Mandoubt has lived beyond her time, and now finds gladness only in service. Aye, and in such grat.i.tude as you are able to provide."

For a moment longer, Linden remained standing. Gazing down on her companion might give her an advantage. But then, deliberately, she set such ploys aside. They were unworthy of the Mandoubt's kindness. When she had resumed her seat beside the fire, and had picked up the Staff to rest it across her lap, she faced the challenge of finding answers.

Carefully, keeping her voice low and her tone neutral, she said, "You're one of the Insequent."

The Mandoubt appeared to consider the night. "May the Mandoubt reply to such a query? Indeed she may, for she relies on naught which the lady has not gleaned from her own pain. For that reason, no harm will ensue."

Then she gave Linden a bright glimpse of her orange eye. "It is sooth, lady.

The Mandoubt is of the Insequent."

Linden nodded. "So you know the Theomach. And-" She paused momentarily, unsure whether to trust what the croyel had told her through Jeremiah. "And the Vizard?"

The Mandoubt returned her gaze to the shrouded darkness of Garroting Deep. "Lady, it is not so among us." She spoke with apparent ease, but her manner hinted at caution as if she were feeling her way through a throng of possible calamities. "When the Insequent are young, they join and breed and make merry. But as their years acc.u.mulate, they are overtaken by an insatiable craving for knowledge. It compels them. Therefore they turn to questings which consume the remainder of their days.

"However, these questings demand solitude. They must be pursued privately or not at all. Each of the Insequent desires understanding and power which the others do not possess. For that reason, they become misers of knowledge. They move apart from each other, and their dealings are both infrequent and cryptic."

The older woman sighed, and her tone took on an uncharacteristic bleakness. "The name of the Theomach is known to the Mandoubt, as is that of the Vizard. Their separate paths are unlike hers, as hers is unlike theirs. But the Insequent have this loyalty to their own kind, that they neither oppose nor betray one another. Those who transgress in such matters-and they are few, a.s.suredly so-descend to a darkness of spirit from which they do not return. They are lost to name and knowledge and purpose, and until death claims them naught remains but madness. Therefore of the Theomach's quests and purposes, or of the Vizard's, the Mandoubt may not speak in this time.

All greed is perilous," concluded the woman more mildly. "Hence is the Mandoubt wary of her words. She has no wish for darkness."

Linden heard a more profound refusal in the Mandoubt's reply. The older woman seemed to know where Linden's questions would lead-and to warn Linden away. Nevertheless Linden persevered, although she approached her underlying query indirectly.

"Still," she remarked, "it seems strange that I've never heard of your people before. Covenant-" She stumbled briefly, tripped by grief and rage. "I mean Thomas Covenant, not his sick son-" Then she squared her shoulders. "He told me a lot, but he didn't say anything about the Insequent. Even the Giants didn't, and they love to explore." As for the Elohim, she would not have expected them to reveal anything that did not suit their self-absorbed machinations. "Where have you all been'?"

The Mandoubt smiled. The divergent colors of her eyes expressed a fond appreciation for Linden's efforts. "It does not surpa.s.s conception," she said easily, "that the lady-aye, and others as well, even those who will come to be named Lords-know naught of the Insequent because apt questions at the proper time have not been asked of those who might have given answer."

Linden could not repress a frown of frustration. The woman's response revealed nothing. Floundering, she faced the Mandoubt with her dirt-smeared clothes and her black Staff and her desolation. "All right. You said that you can't answer my questions. I think I understand why. But there must be some other way that you can help me." Why else had the older woman awaited her here?

Abruptly she gave up on indirection.

She had recovered some of her strength, and was growing frantic. The Theomach told me that I already know his 'true name."' Therefore she a.s.sumed that true names had power among the Insequent. "How is that possible'?"

If you won't rescue me, tell me how to make him do it.

Slowly the older woman's features sagged, adding years to her visage and sadness to her mien. Linden's insistence seemed to pain her.

"Lady, it is not the Mandoubt's place to inform you of that which is known to you. a.s.suredly not. She may confirm your knowledge, but she may neither augment nor explain it. Also she has spoken of the loyalty of the Insequent, to neither oppose nor betray. Long and long has she spurned such darkness." She shook her head with an air of weary determination. "Nay, that which you seek may be found only within yourself.

"The Mandoubt has urged rest. Again she does so. Perchance with sleep will come comprehension or recall, and with them hope."

Linden swallowed a sarcastic retort. She was confident that she had never heard the Theomach's true name. And she was certain that she had not forgotten some means to bypa.s.s centuries safely. But she also recognized that no bitterness or supplication would sway the Mandoubt. After her fashion, the woman adhered to an ethic as strict as the rect.i.tude of the Haruchai. It gave meaning to the Mandoubt's life. Without it, she might have left Linden to face Garroting Deep and Caerroil Wildwood and despair alone.

For that reason, Linden stifled her rising desperation. As steadily as she could, she said, "I'm sorry. I don't believe it. You didn't go to all of this trouble just to feed and comfort me. If you can't tell me what I need to know, there must be some other way that you can help. But I don't know what it is."

Now her companion avoided her gaze. Concealing her eyes behind the hood of her cloak, the Mandoubt studied the night as if the darkened trees might offer her wisdom. "The lady holds all knowledge that is necessary to her,"

she murmured. "Of this no more may be said. Yet is the Mandoubt saddened by the lady's plight? a.s.suredly she is. And does her desire to provide succor remain? It does, again a.s.suredly. Perchance by her own quest for knowledge she may a.s.sist the lady."

Without shifting her contemplation of the forest, the older woman addressed Linden.

"Understand, lady, that the Mandoubt inquires with respect, seeking only kindness. What is your purpose? If you obtain that which you covet here, what will be your path?"

Linden scowled. "You mean if I can get back to the time where I belong? I'm going to rescue my son."

"Oh, a.s.suredly," a.s.sented the Mandoubt. "As would others in your place. The Mandoubt herself might do so. But do you grasp that your son has known the power of a-Jeroth? He that is imprisoned, a-Jeroth of the Seven h.e.l.ls?"

Linden winced. Long ago, the Clave had spoken of a-Jeroth. Both she and Covenant had taken that as another name for Lord Foul: an a.s.sumption which Roger had confirmed.

"He's Lord Foul's prisoner," she replied through her teeth. Tell her that I have her son. "I've known that since I first arrived. One of the croyel has him now, but that doesn't change anything."

The older woman sighed. "The Mandoubt does not speak of this. Rather she observes that a-Jeroth's mark was placed upon the boy when he was yet a small child, as the lady recalls."

Her statement stuck Linden's heart like iron on stone; struck and shed sparks. The bonfire, she thought in sudden anguish. Jeremiah's hand. He had been in Lord Foul's power then, hypnotized by eyes like fangs in the savage flames; betrayed by his natural mother. He had borne the cost ever since. And when his raceway construct freed him to visit the Land, he may have felt the Despiser's influence, directly or indirectly.

The Mandoubt seemed to suggest that Jeremiah had formed a willing partnership with the croyel. That his sufferings had distorted and corrupted him within the secrecy of his dissociation.

If Linden's heart had not been fused- The older woman seemed unaware of Linden's shock; or she chose to ignore it. "Respectfully the Mandoubt inquires again. What is your purpose'?"

Anchoring herself on stone, Linden answered. "That doesn't change anything. Even if you're right. I have to get him back." Somehow. "If he's been marked"-claimed?-"I'll deal with that when he's safe."

"a.s.suredly," countered the woman. "This the Mandoubt comprehends. Yet her query remains unmet. What will be your path to the accomplishment of your purpose?"

If her questions and a.s.sertions were kindly meant, their benignance had become obscure.

"All right." Linden gripped the Staff with both hands as if she intended to lash out at the Mandoubt. But she did not; would not: she clenched the Staff only because she could not close her fingers around the hardness that filled her chest. "a.s.suming that I'm not stuck in this time, I'll go to Andelain. Maybe the Dead are still there." Maybe Covenant himself would be there: the real Thomas Covenant rather than his son's malign simulacrum. Her need for him increased with every beat of her heart. They might help me." Even the spectre of Kevin Landwaster had once counseled her according to the dictates of his torment. "But even if they aren't-"

When Linden fell silent, holding back ideas that she had kept to herself for days, the Mandoubt prompted her. "Lady'?"

Oh, h.e.l.l, Linden muttered to herself. What did she have left to lose? An idea that she had concealed from Roger and the croyel could not hurt her now.

Harshly she told her companion. "Maybe I can find Loric's krill." She had heard that there were no limits to the amount of force which could be expressed through the eldritch dagger. "Covenant and I left it in Andelain." Millennia hence, it would enable the breaking of the Law of Life. And the clear gem around which it had been forged had always responded to white gold. She was counting on that. "If it's still there, I'll have a weapon that might let me use wild magic and my Staff at the same time."

Had the Mandoubt asked her why she wanted to wield power on that scale, she would have had difficulty answering. Certainly she needed all the puissance she could muster against foes like Roger, Kastenessen, and the Despiser. But she had begun to consider other possibilities as well; choices which she hardly knew how to articulate. She had already demonstrated that she was inadequate to the Land's plight. Now every effort to envision some kind of hope brought her back to Covenant.

But the older woman did not pursue her questions. Wrapping her cloak more tightly about her, she shrank into herself.

"Then the Mandoubt may say no more." Her voice emerged, m.u.f.fled and saddened, from her shrouded shape. "The lady is in possession of all that she requires. And her purpose exceeds the Mandoubt's infirm contemplation. It is fearsome and terrible. The lady embraces devastation."

A moment later, she spoke to Linden more directly. "Nonetheless her years have taught the Mandoubt that there is hope in contradiction. Upon occasion, ruin and redemption defy distinction. a.s.suredly they do. She will trust to that when every future has become cruel.

"Lady, if you will permit the Mandoubt to guide you, you will set such thoughts aside until you have rested. Sleep comforts the wracked spirit. Behold." The woman's hand emerged from her cloak to indicate her flask. "Springwine has the virtue to compel slumber. Allow ease to soften your thoughts. This she implores of you. If you make haste toward the Earth's doom, it will hasten to meet you."

When her hand withdrew, she became motionless beside her steady cookfire as though she herself had fallen asleep.

Like her advice, her statements conveyed nothing.-in possession of all that she requires. Such a.s.sertions left Linden unillumined; or she could not hear them. As far as she was concerned, her own ignorance and helplessness were all that gave meaning to words like doom.