to Seadreamer, so locked into herself, that she had not felt the First’s approach.
The First glared at her sternly. “I grant that the burden is terrible to you. That is plain.” She bore herself like a woman who had made a fierce decision of her own. “But the Search has been given into his hands. It must not fail.”
With a brusque movement, she drew her broadsword, held it before her as though she meant to enforce Linden’s compliance with keen iron. Linden pressed her back against the rail in apprehension; but the First bent down, placed her glaive on the deck between them. Then she drew herself erect, fixed Linden with the demand of her stare. “Have you the strength to wield my blade?”
Involuntarily Linden looked down at the broadsword. Gleaming densely in the moonlight, it appeared impossibly heavy.
“Have you the strength to lift it from where it lies?”
Linden wrenched her eyes back to the First in dumb protest.
The Swordmain nodded as if Linden had given her the reply she sought. “Nor have I the insight to act against the Giantfriend’s illness. You are Linden Avery the Chosen. I am the First of the Search. We cannot bear each other’s burdens.”
Her gaze shed midnight into Linden’s upturned face. “Yet if you do not shoulder the lot which has befallen you, then I swear by my glaive that I will perform whatever act lies within my strength. He will not accept any approach. Therefore I will risk my people, and Starfare’s Gem itself, to distract him. And while he strikes at them, with this sword I will sever the envenomed arm from his body. I know no other way to rid him of that ill—and us of the peril of his power. If fortune smiles upon us, we will be able to staunch the wound ere his life is lost.”
Sever? Sudden weakness flooded through Linden. If the first succeeded—! In a flash of vision, she saw that great blade hacking like an execution at Covenant’s shoulder. And blood. Dark under the waxing moon, it would gush out almost directly from his heart. If it were not stopped in an instant, nothing could save him. She was a world away from the equipment she would need to give him transfusions, suture the wound, keep his heart beating until his blood pressure was restored. That blow could be as fatal as the knife-thrust which had once impaled his chest.
The back of her head struck the cross-support of the railing as she sank to the deck; and for a moment pain labored in the bones of her skull.
Sever?
He had already lost two fingers to surgeons who knew no other answer to his illness. If he lived—She groaned. Ah, if he lived, how could she ever meet his gaze to tell him that she had done nothing—that she had stood by in her cowardice and allowed his arm to be cut away?
“No.” Her hands covered her face. Her craven flesh yearned to deny what she was saying. He would have reason to hate her if she permitted the First’s attempt. And to hate her forever if she saved his life at the cost of his independent integrity. Was she truly this hungry for power? “I’ll try.”
Then Cail was at her side. He helped her to her feet. As she leaned on his shoulder, he thrust a flask into her hands. The faint smell of diluted
diamondraught
reached her. Fumbling weakly, she pulled the flask to her mouth and drank.
Almost at once, she felt the liquor exerting its analystic potency. Her pulse carried life back into her muscles. The pain in her head withdrew to a dull throbbing at the base of her neck. The moonlight seemed to grow firmer as her vision cleared.
She emptied the flask, striving to suck strength from it—any kind of strength, anything which might help her withstand the virulence of the venom. Then she forced herself into motion toward the afterdeck.
Beyond Foodfendhall, she came into the light of lanterns. They had been placed along the roof of the housing and around the open deck so that the Giants and
Haruchai
could watch Covenant from a relatively safe distance. They shed a
The First glared at her sternly. “I grant that the burden is terrible to you. That is plain.” She bore herself like a woman who had made a fierce decision of her own. “But the Search has been given into his hands. It must not fail.”
With a brusque movement, she drew her broadsword, held it before her as though she meant to enforce Linden’s compliance with keen iron. Linden pressed her back against the rail in apprehension; but the First bent down, placed her glaive on the deck between them. Then she drew herself erect, fixed Linden with the demand of her stare. “Have you the strength to wield my blade?”
Involuntarily Linden looked down at the broadsword. Gleaming densely in the moonlight, it appeared impossibly heavy.
“Have you the strength to lift it from where it lies?”
Linden wrenched her eyes back to the First in dumb protest.
The Swordmain nodded as if Linden had given her the reply she sought. “Nor have I the insight to act against the Giantfriend’s illness. You are Linden Avery the Chosen. I am the First of the Search. We cannot bear each other’s burdens.”
Her gaze shed midnight into Linden’s upturned face. “Yet if you do not shoulder the lot which has befallen you, then I swear by my glaive that I will perform whatever act lies within my strength. He will not accept any approach. Therefore I will risk my people, and Starfare’s Gem itself, to distract him. And while he strikes at them, with this sword I will sever the envenomed arm from his body. I know no other way to rid him of that ill—and us of the peril of his power. If fortune smiles upon us, we will be able to staunch the wound ere his life is lost.”
Sever? Sudden weakness flooded through Linden. If the first succeeded—! In a flash of vision, she saw that great blade hacking like an execution at Covenant’s shoulder. And blood. Dark under the waxing moon, it would gush out almost directly from his heart. If it were not stopped in an instant, nothing could save him. She was a world away from the equipment she would need to give him transfusions, suture the wound, keep his heart beating until his blood pressure was restored. That blow could be as fatal as the knife-thrust which had once impaled his chest.
The back of her head struck the cross-support of the railing as she sank to the deck; and for a moment pain labored in the bones of her skull.
Sever?
He had already lost two fingers to surgeons who knew no other answer to his illness. If he lived—She groaned. Ah, if he lived, how could she ever meet his gaze to tell him that she had done nothing—that she had stood by in her cowardice and allowed his arm to be cut away?
“No.” Her hands covered her face. Her craven flesh yearned to deny what she was saying. He would have reason to hate her if she permitted the First’s attempt. And to hate her forever if she saved his life at the cost of his independent integrity. Was she truly this hungry for power? “I’ll try.”
Then Cail was at her side. He helped her to her feet. As she leaned on his shoulder, he thrust a flask into her hands. The faint smell of diluted
diamondraught
reached her. Fumbling weakly, she pulled the flask to her mouth and drank.
Almost at once, she felt the liquor exerting its analystic potency. Her pulse carried life back into her muscles. The pain in her head withdrew to a dull throbbing at the base of her neck. The moonlight seemed to grow firmer as her vision cleared.
She emptied the flask, striving to suck strength from it—any kind of strength, anything which might help her withstand the virulence of the venom. Then she forced herself into motion toward the afterdeck.
Beyond Foodfendhall, she came into the light of lanterns. They had been placed along the roof of the housing and around the open deck so that the Giants and
Haruchai
could watch Covenant from a relatively safe distance. They shed a
Similar Books
