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

like Unbelief. It could be managed. Sometimes it could be set aside. And under the right circumstances, it could become a form of strength.
    How else had he twice defeated the Despiser?
    “I was watching,” he repeated as he resumed his tread. “I saw what happened. I mean, what
literally
happened. She slipped outside time. And she took Anele with her. Somehow she bypassed cause and effect and even ordinary gravity so that she and Anele came down on top of the rubble instead of under it. Hell, she didn’t even break bones.
    “But
how
? That was a neat trick. How did she manage it?”
    Peripherally Covenant noticed Clyme’s return. But the Unbeliever did not interrupt the awkward whirl, the vertigo in slow motion, of his paced circle.
    “It’s obvious, really. She did it with wild magic. She used my ring, even though she had no idea what she was doing, and she certainly never did anything like that before. It must have been pure reflex. Raw instinct. But that part doesn’t matter. What matters is, she
did
it. She proved it’s possible.
    “If wild magic is the keystone of the Arch of Time, it
participates
somehow.” Those words raised echoes for him. They implied memories which eluded recognition. “You could say Linden did the opposite of what Joan was doing. Instead of shattering pieces of time, she found her way around them.”
    The Humbled studied him in silence. Their faces remained as blank as age-worn carvings.
    “Well.” Unaware of what he did, Covenant spread gestures in all directions as if he were flinging out his arms for balance; as if he sought to encompass the world. “If she could do it, why can’t we? After all, my poor son and that damned
croyel
did it. They slipped through time to take her into the past. Which the Mahdoubt also knew how to do. And they slipped past distance to reach
Melenkurion
Skyweir. Which both the Harrow and the Ardent knew how to do. So why don’t we do the same thing?”
    There was something that he needed to remember, but he did not try to force it. Instead he let the past reach him in its own way.
    Clyme slid down from Hooryl’s back. Lifting the hem of his tunic, he showed Covenant that he carried a feast of treasure-berries. But Covenant did not pause. He could not stop talking now, even for the Land’s largesse.
    “Ignorance, I suppose. We don’t know what Roger and the
croyel
and at least some of the Insequent knew. If I ever understood how they did it, I sure as hell don’t remember. And we probably haven’t earned the knowledge. But when you can see a thing is possible, ignorance looks less irreducible. You can afford to try out theories or just plain guesswork because you know what you want to accomplish.”
    As if by an act of grace, the memory he sought came to him.
    Time is the keystone of life, just as wild magic is the keystone of Time.
Among the Dead, the Theomach had said that.
It is Time which is endangered
. His counsel had inspired Covenant to risk a
caesure
in order to confront Joan.
The path to its preservation lies through Time.
    That was cryptic at best; hardly comprehensible. Nevertheless it sufficed.
    Abruptly Covenant stopped pacing, planted his legs for balance. His head continued its slow spin, but he faced the Humbled as squarely as he could.
    “And Loric’s
krill
isn’t our only instrument of power. We have white gold.” He tapped his sternum where Joan’s wedding band hung under his tattered T-shirt. “If Linden can use my ring, I ought to be able to use Joan’s.”
    You are the white gold.
    Recall that the
krill
is capable of much.
    Without transition, he told Clyme, “Give me some of that. I’ve got work to do, and I’m still hungry.”
    He had no real idea how to carry out his intentions. But he had found a place to start. And he could trust the Ranyhyn to help him.
    He had suffered enough. Now he meant to surprise the hell out of
turiya
Herem.

    efore long, he had satisfied his hunger. The bounty of
aliantha
seemed to supply all of his immediate lacks. Each berry enriched his veins and muscles and even the fate written on his forehead until he was almost strong, almost steady. The threat of dizziness receded. His health-sense remained vague as a wisp, but he felt an unexpected tingle of renewed sensation in his ankles and wrists.
    When he was ready, he thanked Clyme. He urged the Master to save as many treasure-berries as he could. Then he asked Branl for the
krill
.
    “I’m not sure what I’m doing,” he