Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant by Stephen R. Donaldson

and to Jeremiah’s. It would reaffirm the Law which he had transgressed. He and Jeremiah might
    well disappear back into their proper dimensions of reality.
    But how could her touch harm him, or her son? Apart from her Staff, she had no power except his wedding band.
    If he wanted his ring back, why did he require her to keep her distance?
    She groaned inwardly. She could not guess her way to the truth: she needed answers that she could not imagine for
    herself. As she and the Manethrall gradually turned their steps northwestward with the potential graze lands and fields of the lowest hillsides on their left and the gathering stands of evergreen on their right, she spoke to him for the first time since they had left the forehall.
    “Could you see them?” she asked without preamble. “Covenant and my son? Is there anything that you can tell me about them?”
    For some reason, Anele had seemed unaware of their presence.
    Mahrtiir did not hesitate. “The sight of the sleepless ones is not keener than ours,” he avowed, “though we cannot resist the diminishment of Kevin’s Dirt.” Scowling, he glanced skyward. “Yet the Unbeliever and your child are closed to us. I can descry nothing which you have not yourself beheld.”
    “Then what do you think I should do?”
    Linden did not expect guidance from him. She merely wished to hear the sound of his voice amid the distant calling of birds and the low rustle of the trees. “How can I uncover the truth’?”
    Just be wary of me.
    She needed something akin to the fierce simplicity with which Mahrtiir appeared to regard the world.
    He bared his teeth in a smile like a
    blade. “Ringthane, you may be surprised to hear that I urge caution. Already I have dared a Fall—aye, and ridden the great stallion Narunal—in your name. Nor would I falter at still greater hazards. Yet I mislike any violation of Law. I was the first to speak against Esmer’s acceptance by the Ramen, and the last to grant my trust. Nor does it now console me that he has justified my doubts. I judge that I did wrongly to turn aside from them.
    “The Unbeliever and his companion disturb me, though I cannot name my concern. Their seeming is substantial, yet mayhap they are in truth spectres. These matters are beyond my ken. I am able to counsel only that you make no determination in haste.”
    The Manethrall paused for a long moment, apparently indecisive; and Linden wondered at the emotion rising in him. As they passed between mimosas toward the steeper hills
    surrounding Glimmermere, he cleared his throat to say more.
    “But know this, Linden Avery, and be certain of it. I speak for the Ramen, as for the Cords in my care. We stand with you. The Ranyhyn have declared their service. Stave of the Haruchai has done so. I also would make my meaning plain.
    “It appears that the Unbeliever has come among us, he who was once the
    Ringthane, and who twice
    accomplished Fangthane’s defeat, if the tales of him are sooth. Doubtless his coming holds vast import, and naught now remains as it was.” Mahrtiir’s tone hinted at battle as he pronounced, “Yet the Ramen stand with you. We cannot do less than the Ranyhyn have done. To him they reared when he was the Ringthane, but to you they gave unprecedented homage, bowing their heads. And they are entirely true. If you see peril in the
    Unbeliever’s presence, then we will oppose it at your side. Come good or ill, boon or bane, we stand with you.”
    Then the Manethrall shrugged, and his manner softened. “Doubtless Liand will do the same. For the DemondimŹspawn, either Waynhim or ur-vile, I cannot speak. But I have no fear that Stave will be swayed by the Unbeliever. He has withstood the judgment of the sleepless ones, and will no longer doubt you. And Anele must cling to the
    holder of the Staff. He cannot do otherwise.”
    Mahrtiir faced her with reassurance in his eyes. “When you are summoned before the Unbeliever, consider that you are not alone. We