“But you possess white gold.” Behind their rheum, his orbs seemed to have no colour. "It is an imperfect metal-an unnatural alliance of metals-and in all the Earth it exists nowhere but in the ring you bear. My arts have spoken to me of such a periapt, but never did I dream that the white gold itself would fall to me. The white gold! Thomas Covenant, you reck little what you wield. Its imperfection is the very paradox of which the Earth is made, and with it a master may form perfect works and fear nothing.
“Therefore” — with one hand, he moved a lens so that it covered Covenant's eyes, distorting everything-“I mean to have that ring. As you know-or have known-I may not frankly sever it from you. It will be valueless to me unless you choose to give it. And in your present strait you are incapable of choice. Thus I must first pierce this veil which blinds your will. Then, while you remain within my grasp, I must wrest the choice I require from you,” A smile uncovered the old cruelty of his teeth. “Indeed, it would have been better for you if you had succumbed to the Lady Alif.”
Covenant began his warning. But before he could complete it, Kasreyn lifted his ocular, focused his left eye through it and the lens. As that gaze struck Covenant's, his life exploded in pain.
Spikes drove into his joints; knives laid bare all his muscles; daggers dug down the length of every nerve. Tortures tore at his head as if the skin of his skull were being flayed away. Involuntary spasms made him writhe like a madman in his bonds. He saw Kasreyn's eye boring into him, heard the seizing of his own respiration, felt violence hacking every portion of his flesh to pieces. All his senses functioned normally.
But the pain meant nothing. It fell into his emptiness and vanished-a sensation without content or consequence. Even the writhings of his body did not inspire him to turn his head away.
Abruptly, the attack ended. The Kemper sat back, began whistling softly, tunelessly, through his teeth while he considered his next approach. After a moment, he made his decision. He added two more lenses to the distortion of Covenant's vision. Then he applied his eye to the ocular again.
Instantly, fire swept into Covenant as if every drop of his blood and tissue of his flesh were oil and tinder. It howled through him like the wailing of a banshee. It burst his heart, blazed in his lungs, cindered all his vitals. The marrow of his bones burned and ran like scoria. Savagery flamed into his void as if no power in all the world could prevent it from setting fire to the hidden relicts of his soul.
All his senses functioned normally. He should have been driven irremediably mad in that agony. But the void was more fathomless than any fire.From this, too, the Elohim had defended him.
With a snarl of frustration, Kasreyn looked away again. For a moment, he seemed at a loss.
But then new determination straightened his back. Briskly, he removed one of the lenses he had already used, replaced it with several others. Now Covenant could see nothing except an eye-watering smear. In the centre of the blur appeared Kasreyn's golden ocular as the Kemper once again bent his will inward.
For one heartbeat or two, nothing happened. Then the smear expanded, and the lucubrium began to turn. Slowly at first, then with vertiginous speed, the chamber spun. As it wheeled, the walls dissolved. The chair rose, though Kasreyn's compelling orb did not waver, Covenant went gyring into night.
But it was a night unlike any he had known before. It was empty of every star, every implication. Its world-spanning blackness was only a reflection of the inward void into which he fell. Kasreyn was driving him into himself.
He dropped like a stone, spinning faster and faster as the plunge lengthened. He passed through a fire which seared him-traversed tortures of knives until he fell beyond them. Still he sped down the gullet of the whirling, the nausea of his old vertigo. It impelled him as if it meant to hurl him against the blank wall of his doom.
Yet he saw everything, heard everything. Kasreyn's eye remained before him, impaling the smear of the lenses. In the distance, the Kemper's voice said sharply, “Slay him.” But the command was directed elsewhere, did not touch Covenant.
Then up from the bottom of the gyre arose images which Covenant feared to recognize. Kasreyn's gaze coerced them from the pit. They flew and yowled about Covenant's head as he fell.
The destruction of the Staff of Law.
Blood pouring in streams to feed the Banefire.
Memla and Linden falling under the na-Mhoram's Grim because he could not save them.
His friends trapped and doomed in the Sandhold. The quest defeated. The Land lying helpless under the Sunbane. All the Earth at Lord Foul's mercy.
Because he could not save them.
The Elohim had deprived him of everything which might have made a difference. They had rendered him helpless to touch or aid the people and the Land he loved.
Wrapped in his leprosy, isolated by his venom, he had become nothing more than a victim. A victim absolutely. The perceptions which poured into him from Kasreyn's orb seemed to tell the whole truth about him. The gyre swept him downward like an avalanche. It flung him like a spear, a bringer of death, into the pith of the void.
Then he might have broken. The wall defending him might have been pierced, leaving him as vulnerable as the Land to Kasreyn's eye. But at that moment, he heard a series of thuds. The sounds of combat; blows exchanged, gasp and grunt of impact. Two powerful figures were fighting nearby.
Automatically, reflexively, he turned his head to see what was happening.
With that movement, he broke Kasreyn's hold.
Freed from the distortion of the lenses,his vision reeled back into the lucubrium. He sat in the chair where the Kemper had bound him. The tables and equipment of the chamber were unchanged.
But the guard lay on the floor, coughing up the last of his life. Over The Husta stood Hergrom. He was poised to spring. Flatly, he said, "Kemper, if you have harmed him you will answer for it with blood."
Covenant saw everything. He heard everything.
Emptily, he said, "Don't touch me."
Sixteen: The gaddhi's Punishment
FOR a long time, Linden Avery could not sleep. The stone of the Sandhold surrounded her, limiting her percipience. The very walls seemed to glare back at her as if they strove to protect a secret cunning. And at the edges of her range moved the hustin like motes of ill. The miscreated Guards were everywhere, jailers for the Chatelaine as well as for the company. She had watched the courtiers at their banquet and had discerned that their gaiety was a performance upon which they believed their safety depended. But there could be no safety in the donjon which the Kemper had created for himself and his petulant gaddhi.
Her troubled mind longed for the surcease of unconsciousness. But underneath the wariness and alarm which the Sandhold inspired lay a deeper and more acute distress. The memory of the Kemper's geas squirmed in the pit of her heart. Kasreyn had simply looked at her through his ocular, and instantly she had become his tool, a mere adjunct of his intent. She had not struggled, had not even understood the need to struggle. His will had possessed her as easily as if she had been waiting for it all her life.
The Haruchai had been able to resist. But she had been helpless. Her percipient openness had left her no defence. She was unable to completely close the doors the Land had opened in her.
As a result, she had betrayed Thomas Covenant. He was bound to her by yearnings more intimate than anything she had ever allowed herself to feel for any man; and she had sold him as if he had no value to her. No, not sold; she had been offered nothing in return. She had simply given him away. Only Brinn's determination had saved him.
That hurt surpassed the peril of the Sandhold. It was the cusp of all her failures. She felt like a rock which had been struck too hard or too often. She remained superficially intact; but within her fault lines spread at every blow. She no longer knew how to trust herself.
In her bedchamber after the banquet, she mimicked sleep because Cail was with her. But his presence also served to keep her awake. When she turned
her face to the wall, she felt his hard aura like a pressure against her spine, denying what little courage she had left. He, too, did not trust her.
Yet the day had been long and arduous; and at last weariness overcame her tension. She sank into dreams of stone-the irrefragable gutrock of Revelstone. In the hold of the Clave, she had tried to force herself bodily into the granite to escape Gibbon-Raver. But the stone had refused her. According to Covenant, the former inhabitants of the Land had found life and beauty in stone; but this rock had been deaf to every appeal. She still heard the Raver saying, The principal doom of the Land is upon your shoulders. Are you not evil? And she had cried out in answer, had been crying ever since in self-abomination, No! Never!
Then the voice said something else. It said, “Chosen, arise. The ur-Lord has been taken.”
Sweating nightmares, she flung away from the wall. Cail placed a hand on her shoulder; the wail which Gibbon had spawned sprang into her throat. But the door stood open, admitting light to the bedchamber. Cail's mien held no ill glee. Instinctively, she bit down her unuttered cry. Her voice bled as she gasped, “Taken?” The word conveyed nothing except inchoate tremors of alarm.
“The ur-Lord has been taken,” Cail repeated inflexibly. “The Lady Alif came for him in the Kemper's name. She has taken him.”
She stared at him, groped through the confusion of her dreams. “Why?”
Shadows accentuated Cail's shrug. “She said, 'Kasreyn of the Gyre desires speech with Thomas Covenant.' ”
Taken him. A knife-tip of apprehension trailed down her spine. “Is Brinn with him?”
The Haruchai did not falter. “No.”
At that, her eyes widened. “You mean you let — ?” She was on her feet. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders. “Are you crazy? Why didn't you call me?”
She was fractionally taller than he; but his flat gaze out-sized her. He did not need words to repudiate her.
“Oh goddamn it!” She tried to thrust him away, but the effort only shoved her backward. Spinning, she flung toward the door. Over her shoulder, she snapped, “You should've called me.” But she already knew his answer.
In the corridor, she found the Giants. Honninscrave and Seadreamer were straightening their sarks, dressing hurriedly. But the First stood ready, with her shield on her arm, as if she had slept that way. Ceer was also there. Vain and Findail had not moved. But Brinn and Hergrom were nowhere to be seen.
The First answered Linden's hot visage sternly.
“It appears that we have miscounted the Kemper's cunning. The tale I have from Ceer. While we slept, the Lady Alif approached Hergrom where he stood with Vain and this Elohim. Speaking words of courtesy and blandishment, she drew nigh and into his face cast a powder which caused him slumber. Neither Vain nor Findail”-a keen edge ran through her tone — "saw fit to take action in this matter, and she turned from them as if their unconcern were a thing to be trusted. She then approached Brinn and the Giantfriend. Brinn also fell prey to her powder of slumber, and she bore Covenant away.
“Sensing the unwonted somnolence of his comrades, Ceer left me. In this passage, he saw the Lady Alif with Covenant, retreating.” She pointed down the corridor. “He went in pursuit. Yet ere he could gain them, they vanished.”
Linden gaped at the First.
“The slumber of Brinn and Hergrom was brief,” the Swordmain concluded. “They have gone in search of the Giantfriend-or of the Kemper. It is my thought that we must follow.”
The labour of Linden's heart cramped her breathing. What could Kasreyn possibly want from Covenant, that he was willing to risk so much coercion and stealth to gain it?
What else but the white ring?
A surge of hysteria rose up in her. She fought for self-command. Fear galvanized her. She turned on Ceer, demanded, “How could they have vanished?”
“I know not.” His countenance remained impassive. "At a certain place beyond these doors“-he searched momentarily for a word-”an acuteness came upon them. Then they were before me no longer. The means of their vanishment I could not discover."
Damn it to hell! With a wrench, Linden dismissed that unanswerable how. To the First, she gritted, “Kemper's Pitch.”
“Aye.” In spite of her empty scabbard, the Swordmain was whetted for action. “Kemper's Pitch.” With a jerk of her head, she sent Honninscrave and Seadreamer down the corridor.
They broke into a trot as Ceer joined them. At once, the First followed; then Linden and Cail ran after them, too concerned for Covenant to think about the consequences of what they were doing.
At the first corner, she glanced back, saw Vain and Findail following without apparent haste or effort.
Almost at once, the company encountered the Guards that had been stationed outside their rooms earlier. The faces of the hustin registered brutish surprise, uncertainty. Some of them stepped forward; but when the Giants swept defiantly past them, the hustin did not react. Mordantly, Linden thought that Kasreyn's attention must be concentrated elsewhere.
Like the Haruchai, the Giants had obviously learned more about the layout of the Second Circinate than she had been able to absorb. They threaded their way unerringly through the halls and passages, corridors and chambers. In a short time, they reached the forecourt near the stairways to the Tier of Riches. Upward they went without hesitation.
The Tier was as brightly lit as ever; but at this time of night it was deserted. Honninscrave promptly chose an intricate route through the galleries. When he arrived in the resting-place of the longsword at which the First had gazed with such desire, he stopped. Looking intently at her, he asked in a soft voice, “Will you not arm yourself?”
“Tempt me not.” Her features were cold. “Should we appear before the gaddhi or his Kemper bearing a gift which was denied us, we will forfeit all choice but that of battle. Let us not rashly put our feet to that path.”
Linden felt dark shapes rising from the Second Circinate. “Guards,” she panted. “Somebody told them what to do.”
The First gave Honninscrave a nod of command. He swung away toward the stairs to The Majesty.
Linden ran dizzily after the Giants up the spiralling ascent. Her breathing was hard and sharp; the dry air cut at her lungs. She feared the hustin in The Majesty. If they, too, had been given orders, what could the company do against so many of them?
As she sprang out of the stairwell onto the treacherous floor of the Auspice-hall, she saw that her fears were justified. Scores of squat, powerful hustin formed an arc across the company's way. They bristled with spears. In the faint light reflecting from the vicinity of the Auspice, they looked as intractable as old darkness.
The pursuing Guards had reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Stone and Sea!” hissed the First through her teeth. “Here is a gay pass.” Seadreamer took an impulsive step forward. “Hold, Giant,” she ordered softly. “Would you have us slain like cattle?” In the same tone, she addressed Linden over her shoulder. “Chosen, if any thought comes to you, be not shy to utter it. I mislike this peril.”
Linden did not respond. The posture of the Guards described the nature of Kasreyn's intentions against Covenant eloquently. And Covenant was as defenceless as an infant. The Elohim had reft him of everything which might have protected him. She chewed silent curses in an effort to hold back panic.
The hustin advanced on the company.
The next moment, a high shout echoed across The Majesty:
“Halt!”
The Guards stopped. The ones on the stairs climbed a few more steps, then obeyed.
Someone began to thrust forward among the hustin. Linden saw a vehement head bobbing past their ears, accompanied by a thick flurry of yellow hair. The Guards parted involuntarily. Soon a woman stood before the company.
She was naked, as if she had just come from the gaddhi's bed.
The Lady Alif.
She cast a look at the questers, daring them to take notice of her nudity. Then she turned to the Guards
. Her voice imitated anger; but beneath the surface it quivered with temerity.
“Why do you accost the guests of the gaddhi?”
The porcine eyes of the hustin shifted uncomfortably toward her, back to the company. Their thoughts worked tortuously. After a pause, several of them answered, “These are not permitted to pass.”
“Not?” she demanded sharply. “I command you to admit them.”
Again the hustin were silent while they wrestled with the imprecision of their orders. Others repeated, “These are not permitted to pass.”
The Lady cocked her arms on her hips. Her tone softened dangerously. “Guards, do you know me?”
Hustin blinked at her. A few licked their lips as if they were torn between hunger and confusion. At last, a handful replied, “Lady Alif, Favoured of the gaddhi.”
“Forsooth,” she snapped sarcastically. “I am the Lady Alif, Favoured of the gaddhi Rant Absolain. Has Kasreyn granted you to refuse the commands of the gaddhi or his Favoured?”
The Guards were silent. Her question was too complex for them.
Slowly, clearly, she said, “I command you in the name of Rant Absolain, gaddhi of Bhrathairealm and the Great Desert, to permit his guests passage.”
Linden held her breath while the hustin struggled to sort out their priorities. Apparently, this situation had not been covered by their instructions; and no new orders came to their aid. Confronted by the Lady Alif's insistence, they did not know what else to do. With a rustling movement like a sigh, they parted, opening a path toward the Auspice.
At once, the Favoured faced the company. Her eyes shone with a hazardous revenge. “Now make haste,” she said quickly, “while Kasreyn is consumed by his intent against your Thomas Covenant, I have no cause to wish your companion well, but I will teach the Kemper that he is unwise to scorn those who labour in his service. Mayhap his pawns will someday gain the courage to defy him.” An instant later, she stamped her foot, sending out a tinkle of silver. “Go, I say! At any moment, he may recollect himself and countermand me.”
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