The One Tree t2cotc-2

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  “Don't touch me.”

  She feared that she might be cunningly and dangerously touched in this place.

  A moment later, another chime sounded. Immediately, the light grew brighter, as if even the sun had been called to attend the gaddhi's arrival. The hustin snapped into still greater rigidity, raising their spears in salute. For an instant, no one appeared. Then several figures came out of the shadow of the Auspice as if they had been rendered material by the intensity of the illumination.

  A man led the way up onto the plinth. To each of his arms a woman clung, at once deferential and possessive. Behind them came six more women. And at the rear of the party walked Kasreyn of the Gyre, with his son on his back.

  Every courtier dropped to one knee and bowed deeply.

  The Caitiffin also made a profound obeisance, though he remained standing. In a careful whisper, he breathed, “The gaddhi Rant Absolain. With him are his Favoured, the Lady Alif and the Lady Benj. Also others who have recently been, or perhaps will be, Favoured. And the gaddhi's Kemper, whom you know.”

  Linden stared at the gaddhi. In spite of the opulence around him, he was plainly arrayed in a short satin tunic, as if he wished to suggest that he was unmoved by his own riches. But he had chosen a tunic which displayed his form proudly; and his movements hinted at narcissism and petulance. He accepted the adoring gazes of his women smugly. Linden saw that his hair and face had been treated with oils and paints to conceal his years behind an aspect of youthful virility.

  He did not look like a sovereign.

  The women with him — both the Favoured and the others — were all pretty, would have been lovely if their expressions of adoration had not been so mindless. And they were attired as odalisques. Their scant and transparent raiment was a candid appeal to desire: their perfumes, coifs, movements spoke of nothing except bedworthiness. They had found their own answer to the trepidation which beset the Chatelaine, and meant to pursue it with every allure at their command.

  Smirking intimately, the gaddhi left his Favoured on the plinth with Kasreyn and ascended to his seat. There he was an effective figure. The design of the throne made him appear genuinely regal and commanding. But no artifice could conceal the self-satisfaction in his eyes. His gaze was that of a spoiled child-surquedry unjustified by any achievement, any true power.

  For a long moment, he sat looking out over the obeisance of his Chatelaine, enjoying the way so many men and women humbled themselves before him. Perhaps the brightness dazzled him; he seemed unaware that Linden and her companions were still on their feet. But gradually he leaned forward to peer through the light; and vexation creased his face, betraying the lines which oil and paint had concealed.

  “Kemper!” he snapped irritably. “Who are these mad folk who do not take to their knees before Rant Absolain, gaddhi of Bhrathairealm and the Great Desert?”

  “O gaddhi.'” Kasreyn's reply was practiced-and faintly sardonic. "They are the Giants and voyagers of whom we spoke just now. Though they are ignorant of the greeting which should properly be accorded the gaddhi Rant Absolain, they have come to accept the welcome which you have so graciously proffered them, and to express their profound thanks, for you have redeemed them from severe distress."

  As he delivered this speech, his eyes were fixed purposefully on the company.

  Honninscrave responded promptly. Moving like a man in a charade, he dropped to one knee. “O gaddhi” he said clearly, “your Kemper speaks good sooth. We have come in glad thanks for your most hospitable and needful welcome. Forgive us that we are ill-schooled in the homage which is your due. We are a rude folk and have little acquaintance with such regality.”

  At the same time, Rire Grist made a covert gesture to the rest of the company, urging them to follow Honninscrave's example.

  The First growled softly in her throat; but she acknowledged the necessity of the masque by lowering herself to one knee. Her shoulders were rigid with the knowledge that the company was surrounded by at least three hundred Guards.

  Linden and Seadreamer also bowed. Her breathing was cramped with anxiety. She could think of no appeal or power which would induce the Haruchai, Vain, or Findail to make obeisance. And Covenant was altogether deaf to the need for this imitation of respect.

  But the gaddhi did not press the issue. Instead, he muttered an impatient phrase in the brackish language of the Bhrathair; and at once the Chatelaine rose to their feet. The company did the same, the First stiffly, Honninscrave diffidently. Linden felt a moment of relief.

  The gaddhi was now looking down at Kasreyn. His expression had fallen into a pout. “Kemper, why was I called from the pleasure of my Favoured for this foolish assemblage?” He spoke the common tongue of the Harbour in an oddly defiant tone, like a rebellious adolescent.

  But the Kemper's reply was unruffled. “O gaddhi, it is to your great honour that you have ever been munificent to those whom you deign to welcome. Therefore is your name grateful to all who dwell within the blessing of your demesne, and the Chatelaine are exalted by the mere thought of attendance upon you. Now it is seemly that these your new guests should come before you to utter their thanks. And it is also seemly” — his voice sharpened slightly-"that you should grant them your hearing. They have come in need, with requests in their hearts which only such, a monarch as the gaddhi of Bhrathairealm may hope to satisfy, and the answer which you accord them will carry the fame of your grace across all the wide Earth."

  At this, Rant Absolain settled back in his seat with an air of cunning. His mood was plain to Linden's senses. He was engaged in a contest of wills with his Kemper. Glancing out over the company, he smiled nastily. “It is as my servant”-he stressed that word-“the Kemper has said. I delight to give pleasure to my guests. What do you desire of me?”

  The company hesitated. Honninscrave looked to the First for guidance. Linden tightened her grip on herself. Here any request might prove dangerous by playing into the hands of either the gaddhi or his Kemper.

  But after a momentary pause the First said, “O gaddhi, the needs of our Giantship are even now being met at your decree. For this our thanks are unbounded.” Her tone held no more gratitude than an iron bar. “But your graciousness inspires me to ask a further boon, You see that my scabbard is empty.” With one hand, she held the sheath before her. “The Bhrathair are renowned for their weaponwork. And I have seen many apt blades in the Tier of Riches. O gaddhi, grant me the gift of a broadsword to replace that which I have lost.”

  Rant Absolain's face broke into a grin of satisfaction. He sounded triumphant and petty as he replied, “No.”

  A frown interrupted Kasreyn's confidence. He opened his mouth to speak; but the gaddhi was already saying, “Though you are my guest, I must refuse. You know not what you ask. I am the gaddhi of Bhrathairealm- the servant of my people. That which you have seen belongs not to me but to the Bhrathair. I hold it but in stewardship. For myself I possess nothing, and thus I have no sword or other riches in my gift.” He uttered the words vindictively, but his malice was directed at the Kemper rather than the First, as if he had found unassailable grounds on which he could spite Kasreyn. “If you require a sword,” he went on, “you may purchase it in Bhrathair am.” He made an effort to preserve his air of victory by not looking at Kasreyn; but he was frightened by his own bravado and unable to resist.

  The Kemper met that glance with a shrug of dismissal which made Rant Absolain wince. But the First did not let the matter end. “O gaddhi,” she said through her teeth, “I have no means to make such a purchase.”

  The gaddhi reacted in sudden fury. “Then do without!” His fists pounded the arms of his seat. “Am I to blame for your penury? Insult me further, and I will send you to the Sandgorgons!”

  Kasreyn shot a look toward the Caitiffin. Immediately, Rire Grist stepped forward, made a low bow. “O gaddhi,” he said, “they are strangers, unfamiliar with the selfless nature of your stewardship. Permit me to implore pardon for them. I am certain th
at no offense was intended.”

  Rant Absolain sagged. He seemed incapable of sustaining any emotion which might contradict the Kemper's will. “Oh, assuredly,” he muttered. “I take no offense.” Clearly, he meant the opposite. “I am above all offense.” To himself, he began growling words like curses in the tongue of the Bhrathair.

  “That is well known,” said the Kemper evenly, “and it adds much to your honour. Yet it will sadden you to turn guests away with no sign of your welcome in their hands. Perhaps another request lies within their hearts-a supplication which may be granted without aspersion to your stewardship.”

  With a nameless pang, Linden saw Kasreyn take hold of his golden ocular, raise it to his left eye. A stiffening like a ghost of fear ran through the Chatelaine. Rant Absolain squeezed farther back in his throne. But the Kemper's gesture appeared so natural and inevitable that she could not take her eyes away from it, could not defend herself.

  Then he met her gaze through his ocular; and without warning all her turmoil became calm. She realised at once that she had no cause for anxiety, no reason to distrust him. His left eye held the answer to everything. Her last, most visceral protests faded into relief as the geas of his will came over her, lifted the words he wanted out of her.

  “O gaddhi, I ask if there is aught your Kemper can do to heal my comrade, Thomas Covenant.”

  Rant Absolain showed an immediate relief that the eyepiece had not been turned toward him. In an over-loud voice, he said, “I am certain Kasreyn will do all in his power to aid you.” Sweat made streaks through the paint on his face.

  “O gaddhi, I serve you gladly.” The Kemper's gaze left Linden; but its effect lingered in her, leaving her relaxed despite the raw hunger with which he regarded Covenant. Honninscrave and the First stared at her with alarm. Seadreamer's shoulders knotted. But the calm of the Kemper's geas remained on her.

  “Come, Thomas Covenant,” said Kasreyn sharply. “We will attempt your succour at once.”

  Brinn looked a question at Linden. She nodded; she could do nothing but nod. She was deeply relieved that the Kemper had lifted the burden of Covenant's need from her.

  The Haruchai frowned slightly. His eyes asked the same question of the Giants; but they did not contradict Linden. They were unable to perceive what had happened to her.

  With a shrug, Brinn walked Covenant toward the Kemper.

  Kasreyn studied the Unbeliever avidly. A faint shiver touched his voice as he said, “I thank you, Brinn of the Haruchai. You may leave him safely in my hands.”

  Brinn did not hesitate. “No.”

  His refusal drew a gasp from the Chatelaine, instantly stifled. Rant Absolain leaned forward in his seat, bit his lip as if he could not believe his senses.

  The Giants rocked subtly onto the balls of their feet.

  Explicitly, as if he were supporting Brinn, Covenant said, “Don't touch me.”

  Kasreyn held his golden circle to his eye, said in a tone of tacit command, “Brinn of the Haruchai, my arts admit of no spectation. If I am to aid this man, I must have him alone.”

  Brinn met that ocular gaze without blinking. His words were as resolute as granite. “Nevertheless he is in my care. I will not part from him.”

  The Kemper went pale with fury and amazement. Clearly, he was not accustomed to defiance-or to the failure of his geas.

  A vague uneasiness grew in Linden. Distress began to rise against the calm, nagging her toward self-awareness. A shout struggled to form itself in her throat.

  Kasreyn turned back to her, fixed her with his will again. “Linden Avery, command this Haruchai to give Thomas Covenant into my care.”

  At once, the calm returned. It said through her mouth, “Brinn, I command you to give Thomas Covenant into his care.”

  Brinn looked at her. His eyes glinted with memories of Elemesnedene. Flatly, he iterated, “I will not.”

  The Chatelaine recoiled. Their group frayed as some of them retreated toward the stairs. The gaddhi's women crouched on the plinth and whimpered for his protection.

  Kasreyn gave them cause for fear. Rage flushed his mien. His fists jerked threats through the air. “Fool!” he spat at Brinn. “If you do not instantly depart, I will command the Guards to slay you where you stand!”

  Before the words had left his mouth, the Giants, Hergrom, and Ceer were moving toward Covenant.

  But Brinn did not need their aid. Too swiftly for Kasreyn to counter, he put himself between Covenant and the Kemper. His reply cut through Kasreyn's ire. “Should you give such a command, you will die ere the first spear is raised.”

  Rant Absolain stared in apoplectic horror. The rest of the Chatelaine began scuttling from the hall.

  Brinn did not waver. Three Giants and two Haruchai came to his support. The six of them appeared more absolutely ready for battle than all the hustin.

  For a moment, Kasreyn's face flamed as if he were prepared to take any risk in order to gain possession of Covenant. But then the wisdom or cunning which had guided him to his present power and longevity came back to him. He recanted a step, summoned his self-command.

  “You miscomprehend me.” His voice shook, but grew steadier at every word. “I have not merited your mistrust. This hostility ill becomes you-ill becomes any man or woman who has been granted the gaddhi's welcome. Yet I accede to it. My desire remains to work you well. For the present, I will crave your pardon for my unseemly ire. Mayhap when you have tasted the gaddhi's goodwill you will learn also to taste the cleanliness of my intent. If you then wish it, I will offer my aid again.”

  He spoke coolly; but his eyes did not lose their heat. Without waiting for a reply, he sketched a bow toward the Auspice, murmured, “With your permission, O gaddhi” Then he turned on his heel, strode away into the shadow behind the throne.

  For a moment, Rant Absolain watched the Kemper's discomfited departure with glee. But abruptly he appeared to realize that he was now alone with people who had outfaced Kasreyn of the Gyre-that he was protected only by his women and the Guards. Squirming down from the Auspice, he thrust his way between his Favoured and hurried after the Kemper as if he had been routed. His women followed behind him in dismay.

  The company was left with Rire Grist and fifteenscore hustin.

  The Caitiffin was visibly shaken; but he strove to regain his diplomacy, “Ah, my friends,” he said thickly, “I pray that you will pardon this unsatisfactory welcome. As you have seen, the gaddhi is of a perverse temper-doubtless vexed by the pressure of his duties-and thus his Kemper is doubly stressed, both by his own labours and by his sovereign. Calm will be restored-and recompense made-I assure you.” He fumbled to a halt as if he were stunned by the inadequacy of his words. Then he grasped the first idea which occurred to him. “Will you accompany me to your guesting-rooms? Food and rest await you there.”

  At that moment, Linden came out of her imposed passivity with a wrench of realisation which nearly made her scream.

  Fifteen: “Don't touch me”

  THOMAS Covenant saw everything. He heard everything. From the moment when the Elohim had opened the gift of Caer-Caveral, the location of the One Tree, all his senses had functioned normally. Yet he remained as blank as a stone tablet from which every commandment had been effaced. What he saw and heard and felt simply had no meaning to him. In him, the link between action and impact, perception and interpretation, had been severed or blocked. Nothing could touch him.

  The strange self-contradictions of the Elohim had not moved him. The storm which had nearly wrecked Starfare's Gem had conveyed nothing to him. The dangers to his own life — and the efforts of people like Brinn, Seadreamer, and Linden to preserve him — had passed by him like babblings in an alien tongue. He had seen it all. Perhaps on some level he had understood it, for he lacked even the exigency of incomprehension. Nothing which impinged upon him was defined by the barest possibility of meaning. He breathed when breath was necessary. He swallowed food which was placed in his mouth. At times, he blinked to
moisten his eyes. But these reflexes also were devoid of import. Occasionally an uneasiness as vague as mist rose up in him; but when he uttered his refrain, it went away.

  Those three words were all that remained of his soul.

  So he watched Kasreyn's attempt to gain possession of him with a detachment as complete as if he were made of stone. The hungry geas which burned from the Kemper's ocular had no effect. He was not formed of any flesh which could be persuaded. And likewise the way his companions defended him sank into his emptiness and vanished without a trace. When Kasreyn, Rant Absolain, and the Chatelaine made their separate ways out of The Majesty, Covenant was left unchanged.

  Yet he saw everything. He heard everything. His senses functioned normally. He observed the appraising glance which Findail cast at him as if the Appointed were measuring this Elohim-wrought blankness against the Kemper's hunger. And he witnessed the flush of shame and dismay which rushed into Linden's face as Kasreyn's will lost its hold over her. Her neck corded at the effort she made to stifle her instinctive outcry. She feared possession more than any other thing-and she had fallen under Kasreyn's command as easily as if she lacked all volition. Through her teeth, she gasped, “Jesus God!” But her frightened and furious glare was fixed on Rire Grist, and she did not answer the consternation of her companions. Her taut self-containment said plainly that she did not trust the Caitiffin.

  The sight of her in such distress evoked Covenant's miasmic discomfort; but he articulated his three words, and they carried all trouble away from him.

  He heard the raw restraint in the First's tone as she replied to the Caitiffin, “We will accompany you. Our need for rest and peace is great. Also we must give thought to what has transpired.”

  Rire Grist acknowledged the justice of her tone with a grimace. But he made no effort to placate the company. Instead, he led the gaddhi's guests toward the stairs which descended to the Tier of Riches.