|Chapter 14: Only Those Who Hate|
Some stark travail was upon the Stonedownor. In sympathy and bafflement and self-denese, Covenant said, "Triock, you've got to tell me what happened."
"Do you threaten me? Will you turn the wild magic against me if I refuse?" Triock winced as if he were genuinely afraid, and an oddly craven grimace flicked like a spasm across his lips. But then he shrugged sharply and turned his back, so that he was facing straight into the wind. "Ask, then."
Threaten? Covenant asked Triock's hunched shoulders. No, no. I don't want it to happen again. I've done enough harm.
"Did you"--he could hardly get the words through his clogged throat--"did you find that Unfettered One?"
"Did he contact Mhoram?"
"He did not suffice!"
The bitterness of the words barked along the bitter wind, and Covenant could only repeat, "Triock, what happened?"
"The Unfettered One lacked strength to match the lomillialor. He took it from me and could not match it. Yeurquin and Quirrel were lost--more companions lost while you dally and falter!"
"I didn't--How did you find me?"
"This is expensive blood, Covenant. When will it sate you?"