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

expected her to respect it; to recognize that it did not resemble Covenant’s. “You’re wrong,” he said in a fevered voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.
    “Your people are dying. You need to get them here.” Then he gestured behind him. “But first you need to
look
.” He wanted to shout in the
Elohim
’s face. “You’ve been wrong about me all along.”
    “Do you think to mislead me, boy?” Infelice retorted imperiously. “Do you believe that
I
may be deceived?”
    Nonetheless she glanced past him.
    Then she stared. Confusion made chaos of her clangor and radiance. Her apparel thrashed around her like the storms of desire and misery which had haunted Esmer. Her visage modulated: it seemed to become scores of different faces in quick succession, as if all of her people were suddenly manifested in her. As if the entire meaning of their existence had been called into question.
    An instant later, the clatter of falling metal ceased. Every wind dropped. Silence closed like a lid over the plain. The gems of Infelice’s raiment corrected themselves, resumed their accustomed grace. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper.
    “It is not a gaol. It is a fane.”
    Like an antiphony, her bells chimed relief. They implied awe.
    “That’s right!” Jeremiah crowed. Vindication rose in him. It felt like scorn for the ways in which the
Elohim
had misjudged him. “You have to go in, but you can come out whenever you want. If you want. If I were you, I would stay inside. Let the rest of us worry about the Worm. As long as you’re in there, it can’t reach you.”
    For a moment or two, Infelice looked so lovely that every aspect of her seemed to sing: every line of her face and form, every implication of her demeanor, every glad jewel. She was lucent with melody. But then she appeared to recall herself from a vision of hope. It had almost seduced her. Now she returned, unwilling, to the implications of her plight.
    Frowning, angry again, and strangely uncertain, she said as if she were asking a question, “Yet the Worm will destroy the fane. Though we will not be consumed, we will be denied our place in life. That you cannot prevent.
    “You have wrought a surpassing wonder. I acknowledge it. I acknowledge that we have misesteemed you. And your theurgy is—” Bells described her astonishment. “Child, it is vast. My strengths are many, yet I cannot unmake what you have formed. Against any threat other than the Worm, this fane would stand.
    “But you do not comprehend the Worm’s power. It
transcends
. Sensing our presence, the Worm will devour the fane without thought or effort. Then it will continue its search for the EarthBlood and doom. Deprived of egress, we will be eternally lost.”
    “Mom is working on that,” Jeremiah replied without hesitation. “Sure, what we’ve done is vulnerable.” Roger had smashed Jeremiah’s Tinkertoy castle with the ease of contempt. “And we don’t have enough power to stop the Worm. But Mom went looking for somebody who can teach her how to do what we need.
    “As long as she gets back—”
    “Madness!” Infelice cried at once. “Utter madness!” Apparently her fears had blinded her to other things. Preoccupied by carnage, she had focused on Jeremiah rather than Linden. Now she reached for arcane sources of knowledge. Revelations struck her like blows. “The Wildwielder hazards the world’s past. She seeks a Forestal forged from the substance of an
Elohim
. She seeks
forbidding
.
    “It is madness.” Infelice seemed to be speaking to herself. Arguing with her own instincts. “Should she fail, she will destroy all Time and life ere the Worm achieves its culmination.” But then her attention focused on Jeremiah again. Softer hues flowed through her raiment. “Yet I see valor also in her, as we have from the first. Therefore we sought to forestall her darkest desires, and to serve her in defiance of her own wishes. Should she succeed—”
    “That’s right,” Jeremiah said again. “You’ll still have a chance. You’ll be safe, at least until the Worm gets to the EarthBlood. And it’ll be slow. I mean, slower than if it ate you. We’ll have more time.”
    Time for Linden or even Covenant to come up with a better answer.
    “A worthy effort,” murmured the Ironhand, “regardless of its hazards.”
    The other Giants remained silent.
    Infelice appeared to consider Jeremiah’s assertion. Instead of