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

stand here?”
    Canrik regarded him gravely. “The pursuing Cavewights have been slain. No others gather within reach of our discernment. We conclude that they do not know where to seek for us. No assault is imminent.” He glanced around at the Giants. “And your companions must welcome any respite.”
    He appeared to believe that his reply would content Covenant.
    Covenant said nothing. In spite of his weak sight, he could see that the attitudes of the Masters had changed. They had recovered from their initial surprise. Now they conveyed more anger. They appeared to feel betrayed, not by Covenant himself, but by the fact of his presence. And they blamed Linden—
    Days ago, they had been misled by an image of Covenant. When Roger had ridden disguised by glamour into Revelstone with Jeremiah and the
croyel
, the Masters had failed to discern the truth. They had reason for doubt.
    Nevertheless Covenant wanted to yell at them. Linden had already endured too much from Handir and the other Masters. She did not deserve more.
    Uncharacteristically brusque, Stoutgirth Anchormaster told his crew to distribute food and water. Before they could comply, however, more Masters began to arrive. In groups of four, they entered the cave from various passages: a score of
Haruchai
; then two score. To the Giants, they bowed impassively. To Linden and Covenant, they gave flat stares as fierce as castigations. Jeremiah they seemed to ignore. Then they spread out to form a cordon around the company; but whether they did so to defend Covenant, Linden, and Jeremiah, or to defend against them, Covenant could not tell.
    Handir had once threatened to wrest Linden’s implements of power from her.
    I won’t stand for it, Covenant told himself. I can’t.
    But he could not make the Masters’ decisions for them.
The necessity of freedom
belonged to them, as it did to everyone else.
    Still pressures rose like water within him. Soon he would have to start raging at somebody, anybody, for no better reason than because he needed an outlet.
    He bit down on his tongue to stifle a shout when Handir finally strode into the cave.
    The silver of Handir’s hair, and the scars which seamed his visage and forearms like emblems, testified to his years and stature. He was the Voice of the Masters, accustomed to authority.
    Three of his people accompanied him, but they were not alone. Among them, they escorted Manethrall Mahrtiir’s Cords, Bhapa and Pahni.
    At the sight, Covenant’s anger fell away like a wave from a cliff. He could see that the Cords had changed. The Pahni whom he had known might have forgiven Linden for refusing to attempt Liand’s resurrection. That girl might have run to hug Linden; might have shed tears of gratitude and relief. And brave, diffident Bhapa would have stood back only because he did not consider himself important enough to demand attention.
    Not now. Somehow both of the Ramen had inherited Mahrtiir’s spirit. Pahni swept forward like a striking raptor, and her eyes were bright with vindication, keen as whetted iron. Bhapa approached more slowly, but not because he was reluctant or daunted. Rather he walked with the firm tread of a man who had been flensed of his weaknesses.
    The two of them gave the impression that they had brought the Masters from Revelstone by force of will.
    Pahni offered the Ironhand a Ramen bow. The Cord’s gaze flicked among the Swordmainnir, counted their losses. Then she bowed again more deeply, acknowledging their fallen. But she did not greet Covenant. Although her eyes widened when she saw the Staff in Jeremiah’s hands, her attention did not linger on him.
    The look that she fixed on Linden was simultaneously proud and defiant. She seemed to dare Linden to tell her that she had done wrong.
    Linden started toward the girl, then stopped herself, biting her lip. Her eyes were bruises.
    Bhapa’s manner was more reserved. He honored Coldspray and her comrades formally. To Covenant, he bowed as well, saying only, “Timewarden.” His brows lifted as he regarded Jeremiah; but he, too, did not pause for wonder. In a voice as tight as a rope, he said, “Some tidings we have received from Handir. We have been assured that Manethrall Mahrtiir has not fallen. For that we are grateful. But the tale of his transformation we must hear at another time.” Then the Cord came to stand in front of Linden.
    Her arms lifted to him, but he did not grant her an embrace. Instead he sank to the stone;