Thomas Covenant 5 - The One Tree by Stephen R. Donaldson

Author:Stephen R. Donaldson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-20T05:00:00+00:00

file:///F|/rah/Stephen%20Donaldson/Donaldson%20Covenant%205%20The%20One%20Tree.txt

Rire Grist halted before them. To the company, he said, “These are hustin of the gaddhi’s Guard.

Like the Harbor Captain, they conceive their duty straitly. However,” he went on wryly, “they are somewhat less accessible to persuasion. It will be necessary to answer them. I assure you that their intent is caution, not discourtesy.”

Addressing the hustin, he announced himself formally, then described the purpose of the company.

The two Guards listened as stolidly as if they were deaf. When he finished, they replied in unison, “You may pass. They must tell their names.”

The Caitiffin shrugged a bemused apology to Honninscrave.

Warnings knotted in Linden’s throat. She was still shaken by her perception of the hustin. They were only tools, fashioned deliberately to be tools; yet the power or person that required such slaves-!

But the company was too far from Starfare’s Gem. And Starfare’s Gem was too vulnerable. If she spoke, she might spring the trap. In this place, she and her companions could only hope for safety and escape by playing the game devised for them by the gaddhi or his Kemper.

Gritting her teeth, she remained silent.

Honninscrave did not hesitate; his decisions had already been made. He stepped up to the hustin and gave his answer. His voice was calm; but his heavy brows lowered as if he wished to teach the

Guards more politeness.

“You may pass,” they replied without expression and parted their spears. Rire Grist rode between them into the dim passage of the gate, stopped there to wait. Honninscrave followed him.

Before the First could pass, the Guards blocked the way again.

Her jaws chewed iron. One hand flexed in frustration at the place where the hilt of her broadsword should have been. Precisely, dangerously, she said, “I am the First of the Search.”

The hustin stared primitive malice at her. “That is not a name. It is a title.”

“Nevertheless”-her tone made Linden’s muscles tighten in preparation for trouble or flight-“it will suffice for you.”

For one heartbeat, the Guards closed their eyes as if they were consulting an invisible authority.

Then they looked back at the First and raised their spears.

Glowering, she stalked between them to Honninscrave’s side.

As Seadreamer stepped forward, the Master said with half-unintended roughness, “He is Cable

Seadreamer my brother. He has no voice with which to speak his name.”

The Guards appeared to understand; they did not bar Seadreamer’s way.

A moment later, the soldier leading Linden’s horse approached the gates and spoke his name, then paused for her to do the same. Her pulse was racing with intimations of danger. The hustin dismayed her senses. She felt intuitively certain that the Sandhold would be as hard to leave as a prison-that this was her last chance to flee a secret and premeditated peril. But she had already done too much fleeing. Although she strove to match Honninscrave’s steadiness, a faint tremor sharpened her voice as she said, “I’m Linden Avery the Chosen.”

Over her shoulder, Call uttered his name dispassionately. The hustin admitted them to the gate.

Ceer and Hergrom were brought forward. They went through the same ritual and were allowed to enter.

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