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

know with a certainty which surpasses utterance that the awakening of the Worm was the outcome of Fangthane’s cunning, not of any desire for Desecration in you. You acted only upon your love for the Timewarden, and upon your love for your son.
    “Linden Avery, Chosen, Ringthane, I am
offended to the marrow of my bones
that these sleepless ones have dared to think ill of you. They have named themselves the Masters of the Land, but they do not
serve
. True service submits itself to the cause which it serves, deeming that cause holy. This the Ramen comprehend. True service does not judge the deeds which are asked of it. It does not consent to
this
and refuse
that
, according to the dictates of its own pride. It gives of itself because the cause which it serves is worthy.
    “The self-will of these Masters
offends
me. It is an offense to every good which they have sworn to preserve.”
    As if he were unaware of the lifting of Covenant’s heart, unaware of the bright approval in the eyes of the Swordmainnir, unaware even of Linden’s weeping, Bhapa said more softly, “That is my justification. I did not mislead the Masters for the Land’s hurt, or for their own. I merely”—he spat the word—“
encouraged
them in their judgments and pride, praying that they would ride forth in wrath to confront Desecration. Thereby I hoped to impose upon them a confrontation with their own folly.
    “If I must say more, I will add only that I did not invoke the Timewarden’s name because I feared that the Masters would not heed it. When have they ever stood with him in his last need? I feared that their notions of service would compel inaction.”
    Then the Cord was finished. Briefly he slumped as if his passion had drained from him. But after a moment, he squared his shoulders and lifted his head, bracing himself to accept the consequences of what he had done.
    Linden’s only answer was to say his name like a sob as she went to him. To his look of surprise, she replied by putting her arms around him and holding him tight.
    Covenant wanted to weep himself. He wanted to laugh, and to shout out his joy in the Cords, and to rail at the Masters. But he contained his turmoil, set his own emotions aside in order to concentrate on Handir.
    Fates of every description stood on the lip of a precipice. One misstep now might be fatal. Covenant should have felt dizzy; but he found that his faith was equal to this moment. Bhapa had brought the Masters to a crisis of rectitude, a challenge which would search their definition of themselves to its core. And here they had the power to save or damn Covenant’s intentions. Nevertheless he was content to await the outcome. He called himself the Unbeliever, but he believed in Bhapa, whose name meant “father.” In Pahni, whose name was “water.”
    And he had always trusted the
Haruchai
.
    The Voice of the Masters did not speak. His mien revealed nothing. No doubt he was engaged in a vehement discussion with his kinsmen; but they masked their thoughts.
    When Linden had satisfied her gratitude, she released Bhapa. Blinking to clear her eyes, she gave him a crooked smile. Then she turned to Pahni.
    Clearly she was unsure of herself with the young woman. Pahni had not spoken a word to her since Linden had refused to attempt Liand’s resurrection. Instead of offering to hug the Cord, Linden asked with an ache of yearning in her voice, “My God, Pahni. How did you do it?”
    How had a woman who had been little more than a girl when she found her first love in Liand discovered the strength to face down the assembled Masters in Revelstone?
    In spite of her slight stature, Pahni met Linden’s question with an imperious air. She looked whetted, as if she had spent days applying her heart to a grindstone. Without hesitation, she replied, “I made of my grief a form of rage. I spoke to excoriate, goading the Masters to bestir themselves. We are the life which remains. They could not stand idle while a mere Cord faulted them for permitting the world’s Desecration. They had no answer for the charge which I brought against them.”
    They did not grieve. Therefore their bereavements ruled them.
    Harsh as the call of a hawk, Pahni added, “
I
do not cry your pardon, Ringthane. I am a Cord of the Ramen. I will not regret that I have abided by the command of my Manethrall.” But then her manner softened somewhat. “And I also am offended in your name. I, too, crave the shaming of the Masters.”
    At