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

done it. I’ve doomed—”
    If she had pulled away from him, he might have cried out. He had hurt her enough to maim the bond which they had only begun to renew. But she still clung to him as if he were all that she had left. She still thought that he had a better answer—or that he
was
a better answer.
    As gently as he could, he said, “It’s tempting to think that way. It lets us off the hook. If we’ve already made the only mistakes that matter—or if somehow we just
are
the only mistakes that matter—we can’t be expected to do anything else. But it’s not that simple.
    “For one thing, we aren’t alone. We’re all in this mess together. We’re all making decisions and trying to justify the consequences. Whatever you’ve done, good or bad, you didn’t do it in a vacuum. You’ve been reacting to people with their own agendas and situations you didn’t cause. From the start, the Despiser has been pushing you where he wants you to go. And you’ve had help along the way.
    “And for another—” Goaded by his own necessary passions, Covenant’s voice rose. “Linden, I just don’t
believe
it. I don’t believe Lord Foul can’t be stopped. I don’t even believe the world can’t be saved. Freeing Lord Foul wasn’t the only thing Berek talked about. He also said there’s
another truth
on the far side of despair and doom. All we have to do is find it.”
    She did not react. He could not be sure that she was listening. He might have been speaking to the leaves and boughs, the harmony of gleams, rather than to the woman in his arms.
    Nevertheless she continued to hold on to him.
    You will not fail, however he may assail you. There is also love in the world.
    Because she did not let go, he said more.
    “And for another—Oh, hell. I’ve written entire novels about this. ‘Guilt is power. Only the damned can be saved.’ Maybe that sounds cynical. Maybe it is. But who else
needs
to be saved? Who else
can
be? Not the innocent. They have their own problems.” He was thinking of the Masters, who thought that rigid purity of service would relieve their ancient humiliation. “They don’t need anything as gracious or just plain kind as forgiveness.
    “So maybe blaming ourselves is a waste of time. Maybe we should just admit that everybody goes wrong. Everybody does damage. That’s what being human enough to make mistakes means. And if that’s what being human means, then there’s really only one question we have to answer. Is making mistakes
all
it means?
    “If it isn’t, then
everything
counts. Resurrecting me and waking up the Worm. Making love together and killing Cavewights. Hell and blood, Linden! I let my own daughter be sacrificed against She Who Must Not Be Named. And I didn’t stop there. I went right up to the most pitiful woman I’ve ever known and stuck a knife in her chest. If you think I don’t feel
bad
about things like that, you haven’t been paying attention. But if everything counts, then guilt is no reason to stop trying for something better.”
    Somewhere among the music of his lights, Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir sang, “It is my heart I give to you—”
    Finally Linden stirred. With small movements, she shifted the position of her arms, adjusted her head on Covenant’s shoulder. For a time, she conveyed the impression that she was listening to the Forestal, or to the rebuffed thrash of the winds beyond the bower, or to the restless concern of Covenant’s pulse. Then she brushed a delicate kiss across his chest.
    “Here’s the funny part,” she murmured. “I tried to say practically the same thing to Jeremiah. I used different words, but the point was the same. Maybe I should listen to myself every once in a while. You shouldn’t have to make a speech whenever I think that I’ve done something wrong.”
    Suddenly she yawned. “If I weren’t so sleepy, I would ask you to make love again.”
    Entirely to himself, Covenant released a deep sigh of relief. There were any number of questions for which he had no answer; but for the time being, he was content with the one that she had given him.
    You do not forgive.
    Perhaps she did.



1.
    A Tale Which Will Remain

    Weary to the core, and yet eased in more ways than she knew how to name, Linden Avery dozed in Covenant’s arms,
Thomas of my heart
. But she did not sleep deeply or long. After a time, a rustle among the willow branches plucked at her attention. She felt the pressure of hooves on the sumptuous grass,