The Last Dark: The climax of the entire Thomas Covenant Chronicles (Last Chronicles of Thomas Cove)

return of day, we will arise together to serve you.”
    After a moment, she added, “If need compels you, make use of the night. Doubtless there are preparations which will serve to hasten the morrow’s labors.”
    Attempt patience? That seemed impossible to Jeremiah. Patience was for people who were incapable of anything else. He had spent ten passive years exhausting his ability to
wait
. But when Coldspray suggested preparations, his heart veered. That he understood: identifying his materials; setting them out so that he would not have to search for them when the time came to put them in place. And he knew that he would have to spend a lot of time searching for the right sizes and shapes and quantities of malachite. While he did that, two Giants might be able to give him as much help as he could use.
    Thinking hard, he grew calmer.
    A flurry of gusts out of the northeast slapped at the company. They tumbled against the ridgefront, scurried out across the plain. To Jeremiah’s nerves, they felt like the leading edge of a gale. But the forces driving the wind were still distant. The full strength of the blast might not reach so far.
    A part of his mind was making calculations: measuring the mass of rocks against their hidden seams of malachite; estimating sizes and dimensions and positions. But that part of him was instinctive. It did not require his conscious attention. Instead of focusing on it, he tried to think of a way to make amends.
    He did love Giants.
    Groping, he said tentatively, “You’ve talked about Longwrath before. Lostson Longwrath. I heard you”—in spite of himself, he winced—“when the
croyel
had me. But I don’t know who he is.
    “What happened to him? Where is he?”
    At once, Jeremiah felt a pang spread among the Giants, and he feared that he had made a stupid mistake. They looked at each other or turned away; shifted uncomfortably where they sat; touched their weapons. But then he saw that he had not irritated them again. Instead he had reminded them of a pain which they did not know how to relieve.
    “Ah, young Jeremiah.” The Ironhand sighed once more. “You request a tale—”
    Abruptly Frostheart Grueburn heaved herself to her feet. Towering against the dimming sky and the lucid stars, she announced to her comrades, “It is a tale which need not delay young Jeremiah’s task. If Latebirth will consent to join me, we two will be the first to aid him. And while we do so, we will speak of Longwrath.
    “I have borne Linden Giantfriend across many arduous leagues. In her name, I will bear this burden also.”
    “You are harsh, Grueburn,” Latebirth retorted. “You ask much. Scend Wavegift’s death clings unkindly to me. Should Longwrath appear before us here, I would wish both to embrace him and to strike him down.”
    “As would we all,” muttered Coldspray. “Nonetheless Frostheart Grueburn’s offer is a gift. Should you prefer to rest, Latebirth, I will join her.”
    “Nay, Ironhand.” Groaning lugubriously, Latebirth pushed herself upright. “I merely complain, as is my wont. Grueburn’s thought is worthy of her—”
    “A jest of two edges,” remarked Onyx Stonemage. “It both gives and takes.”
    “—and I will endeavor to prove worthy as well,” Latebirth finished without pausing.
    Ducking his head, Jeremiah mustered the grace to say, “Thanks. I know this is hard. But I really can’t do it without your help.”
    Grueburn swung her hand at his shoulder, a comradely clap that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Waste no heed on us, young Jeremiah. We are Giants. We revel in bewailing our lot.
    “Come.” Followed by Latebirth, she steered him back toward the sloping rockfall. “You will describe what is required, and we will speak of Lostson Longwrath while we attempt your desires.”
    “In that case”—with a nudge of his shoulder, Jeremiah redirected her toward a stretch of open ground at the foot of the rubble—“let’s start there.” Within three steps, his distress became excitement again. Wind slapped grit and portents at his face, but he ignored it. The preparations for his construct seemed to spring into focus of their own volition. “I’ll show you where I want to build.”
    Grueburn nodded her approval; and Latebirth said, “That is well thought, young Jeremiah. In the absence of plain commands, we would doubtless cause ourselves much unnecessary labor.”
    “And we would moan,” Grueburn stated, feigning pride. “Even among