The Runes of the Earth: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Book One (58 page)

Two—? Linden thought. Liand and—? The Ramen must have known that Stave was in no condition to sit upright on a block of wood. And Anele had left the encampment.

Cautiously she asked, “What about Esmer?”

Manethrall Dohn looked away, and Mahrtiir bared his teeth. Hami's gaze darkened as she shrugged. “He departed into the mountains after he had spoken with you, and has not returned. Perhaps that is well. His incondign attack upon the sleepless one troubles us. He has gone beyond us. It may be that he should not remain as our companion.”

Her tone suggested that the Ramen would already have spurned Esmer if the son of the
merewives
had not been accepted, validated, by the Ranyhyn.

Mahrtiir leaned forward sharply. “He is distressed.” The Manethrall had a voice like a rusty hinge. “He wields a storm among the mountains, power and lightning visible across all this vale. We have witnessed his struggle, though we do not seek him out.” For a moment, Mahrtiir's gaze seemed to burn with reflected theurgy. “It is in my heart that he strives to defy his doom.”

Linden closed her eyes, bowed her head. Instinctively she believed Mahrtiir.
With blows I have expended my loathing
—The conflicts within Cail's son were extreme enough for storms.

She needed him as well. She had more questions for him. He understood Anele's cryptic references to Kastenessen, to
skurj,
to a broken Durance. She was sure that he could identify the fierce spirit which had possessed Anele. And he spoke the brackish tongue of the ur-viles—

His absence was not a problem she could solve, however. When she had set aside images of his “storm among the mountains,” she raised her head and opened her eyes.

Across the clearing, she saw Liand moving toward her, accompanied by Char and another Cord, Pahni. The young woman had a waterskin tied at her waist, and her hands held a bowl of food.

Unhindered by Kevin's Dirt, Linden saw at once that the Stonedownor had rested little, although he wore his fatigue lightly. The past few days had simply been too exciting to encourage sleep. And perhaps he, too, had witnessed Esmer's distress during the night. His eyes shone with an almost feverish alertness, and his strides as he approached were full of youth.

When he met Linden's gaze, however, his expression changed to one of concern, and he quickened his steps. As soon as he reached the circle of seats, he announced unself-consciously, “Linden, you have not rested. And you are troubled. There is darkness in you.

“What is amiss? Has Esmer harmed you?”

Sighing, Linden reminded herself that he was new to health-sense and had not yet learned to interpret what he discerned.

“I'm fine, Liand.” With an effort, she smiled. “Better than I look, at any rate. Esmer was actually”—she grimaced involuntarily—“helpful. But I wanted to keep an eye on Stave, so I didn't get quite enough sleep.

“Please. Sit down.” She indicated one of the seats. “We all need to talk.”

Now Liand seemed to realize that he stood among the leaders of the Ramen. Looking abashed, he bowed stiffly to the Manethralls, then dropped himself onto one of the wooden blocks.

At the same time, Pahni came to Linden's side and knelt to present the waterskin and bowl. In the bowl, Linden found
aliantha
scattered among dried fruits which she did not recognize and cut pale cubes which smelled like goat cheese.

Gratefully, she accepted Pahni's offering. As the Cord withdrew, Linden placed a treasure-berry in her mouth and spent a moment savoring its sharp, tonic taste and its gift of energy. Then she raised her eyes to the Manethralls.

“I don't think Stave can join us. If you don't mind talking while I eat, you could answer some questions for me.”

Manethrall Dohn assented with a nod; and Hami replied, “Assuredly, Ringthane. Your plight is difficult, and we desire to aid you as we can.”

“Then tell me”—Linden spread her hands to suggest the degree of her incomprehension—“what happened last night. I mean, with the Ranyhyn.” She had never seen such horses. “You said they accepted me. And Stave, I assume? What does that mean?”

Feeling clumsy again, she admitted, “I don't know anything about them.”

“Ah, the Ranyhyn.” A look of quiet joy came into Hami's face as she spoke: a look which her fellow Manethralls shared, Dohn gravely, Mahrtiir with a hint of ferocity. “We are the Ramen, Ringthane. It is not our place to speak of them. We are their servants, and in no way their tenders, as some have named us. They are the meaning and purpose of our lives, and while one Ranyhyn remains to gallop among the glories of the world, no Raman will withdraw from their service.

“Indeed, our service itself empowers and sustains our service. We are who we are, and have remained so across the millennia, because the worth of what we serve preserves the worth of our service.”

Linden found her hands trembling slightly as she listened; and the earthenware bowl felt fragile between her fingers, as if its possibilities might break into clay and dust at any moment. The timbre of Hami's voice affected her more than the Manethrall's words. In the contentment and purity of Hami's joy, she seemed to hear the untrammeled devotion of the Ramen: a service so ancient and enduring that it humbled her.

Fearing that she might drop the bowl, she placed it in her lap. Then she folded her hands around it to conceal their unsteadiness.

“Yet you have witnessed with your own eyes,” Hami continued, “that the Ranyhyn are Earthpowerful. They both contain and express the Land's abundance. Having beheld them, can you wonder at our service? And do you not now know all that is needful concerning the Ramen?”

Linden might have shaken her head; but the Manethrall had not paused.

“That the Ranyhyn have accepted you is beyond question. Summoned solely by your presence, they approached—” Abruptly, Hami's manner intensified. Leaning forward, she said, “Ringthane, hear me,” urging Linden to share her sense of wonder. “They approached and
bowed their heads.
Such homage no Raman has ever beheld, not once in all the long years of our service.”

Her gaze burned at Linden; but both Mahrtiir and Dohn watched Hami with a kind of rapture on their faces.

“To the ur-Lord Thomas Covenant, who was once the Ringthane, the Ranyhyn reared, an assembly of the great horses all rampant in his name. Neither before nor since have the Ramen witnessed such obeisance. Yet that honor contained an admixture of fear and compulsion, as the ur-Lord himself acknowledged. To you, we deem, the Ranyhyn have shown a greater homage, for they bowed their heads as though in surrender, and felt no fear.”

Then Hami sat back. For a moment, she rested her hands on the shoulders of her fellow Manethralls. Mahrtiir stared at his clenched fists between his knees; but Dohn raised a hand to squeeze Hami's fingers in consolation or support.

Liand listened as if he were transfixed: the light in his eyes was as bright as love. The Ranyhyn must have enchanted him.

When Hami spoke again, the intensity had faded from her tone.

“What does this acceptance signify? That, no Raman can answer. It lies between you and Hyn, who bowed her head to you, as it lies also between the sleepless one and Hynyn.” Her manner conveyed her doubt that Hynyn had chosen wisely. “This, however, I am able to say with certainty. Hyn and Hynyn have given their consent to be ridden.

“Such a boon is seldom granted. Once granted, however, it will not be withdrawn. While you live, the Ranyhyn will bear you wherever you wish to go. And if by some ill chance Hyn should perish while you remain alive and in need, another Ranyhyn will take her place, that their acceptance may be preserved.”

Wherever you wish to go, Linden thought in hope and alarm.
Look to the Ranyhyn.
Almost convulsively, she picked some of the dried fruit from the bowl and tossed it into her mouth, chewing to cover her apprehension. Consent to be ridden. The idea seemed fraught with vast responsibilities and perils.

Briefly she concentrated on eating while she tried to control her trembling.

When Linden did not respond, Hami inquired, “Are you answered, Ringthane?”

With an effort, Linden faced the Manethrall. “I need to think about it.” But her hands still shook, and she did not feel ready to pursue what Hami had said. “I'm sure I'll want to know more. But tell me something else first, if you don't mind.”

She needed time to gather her courage.

The woman waited, expectant and willing.

Linden swallowed another treasure-berry, dropping the seed into the bowl to be scattered later. “The Ramen here—” She gestured around the encampment. “I hope there are more of you. Surely you have children? Old people?” Men and women unsuited to the work of Cords and Manethralls? “You aren't all
here
?”

Dohn did not appear to hear her question. Instead he gazed away into the
mountains as though he were watching for some sign of Esmer. But Mahrtiir grinned with fierce amusement; and Hami smiled.

“Indeed we are not. If we were, we would merit the concern which I hear in your words. However, the Ramen are well. After our own fashion, we flourish. But our trek among these peaks would be unnecessarily arduous for our children, as for our aged. And there are those Ramen—Winhomes, Curriers, Keepers—who are not apt for the rigors of Cording or Maneing. All these we have left encamped many leagues to the south, upon the foothills of the Southron Range.”

Linden did not try to hide her relief. “I'm glad to hear it,” she said with a smile of her own. “I've been worried.” Then her smile fell away. “The Land is already in enough trouble. I was afraid that the Ramen were dying.”

Hami nodded her understanding. “That loss, if no other, we have been spared.”

For a moment, she lowered her eyes. When she faced Linden again, her expression had turned somber. “Linden Avery, are you ready now to speak of this trouble which fills your heart?

“That the Render has returned to torment the Land is certain. If we acted of our own will, we would rather turn our backs on our ancient home than submit any Ranyhyn to Fangthane's cruelty.” Then she shrugged slightly. “However, we are ruled by the Ranyhyn.” Her tone conveyed no taint of bitterness, although she plainly loathed any threat to the great horses. “And it is likewise certain that you have been accepted. Nor can your wish to oppose the Render be mistaken.” In spite of its firmness, her voice held an almost subliminal tremor; a hint of dread. “Thus we are made to understand that the Ranyhyn also will give battle, in your service.”

The three Manethralls confronted Linden squarely across their small circle as Hami asked, “Ringthane, what is your intent?”

She may have meant, How many of the Ranyhyn are you prepared to sacrifice?

Are you ready now—? Linden would never be ready, she knew that. But Jeremiah was already in torment, and the Land's sufferings had only begun. Whether or not she would ever be ready made no difference to what was required of her.

Deliberately, she finished the
aliantha
she had been given; returned the seeds to the bowl; ate another mouthful of cheese and dried fruit. While the Ramen and Liand waited, she drank from the waterskin to clear her throat. To clear her mind.

Then she said, “Esmer knows. He understands what's happening to the Land. Most of it, anyway.” He might have given her more if she had known how to question him. “He didn't tell me everything I need, but he gave me some hints—”

She meant to go on at once, riding words like a current so that she would not falter. But Stave stopped her.

“Hold, Chosen,” he said from the edge of the clearing. “For the sake of the Land, I must hear what is decided.”

He spoke softly. Nonetheless strain throbbed in his voice.

Linden turned to look at him—and winced at the sight of his pain. The lacerations inside his chest had not yet healed enough to bear the effort of standing upright. Yet that hurt faded to a shadow beside the bright distress of his dislocated hip. He must have hopped to the clearing from his bed, jolting his hip abominably with every movement.

She wanted to swear at him. The damn fool should have stayed in bed.

The Manethralls also regarded Stave. Dohn softly instructed Bhapa to aid the sleepless one; but before the Cord could rise, Liand surged to his feet and hastened toward Stave. His settled distrust of the Masters had no effect on his concern.

Stave did not allow Liand to touch him. Balancing on his good leg, however, he braced one hand on the Stonedownor's shoulder for support.

So suddenly that he snatched a gasp from Linden, he clenched his free hand into a fist and punched at his dislocation.

With a sound like a muffled break, his hip snapped back into place.

Sweat stood instantly on his forehead, and he sagged against Liand. Yet he neither flinched nor cried out. Instead he lowered his foot to the ground as if he believed that now his leg would be able to bear his weight.

It did. Somehow it did. Still holding Liand's shoulder, Stave hobbled toward the ring of seats as if he were dragging Liand's consternation with him.