| Chapter 25: "In the Name of the Pure One" |
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Covenant hugged his chest, unable to stop rocking. "No." His mind was a jumble of shards like a broken stoneware pot, each as sharp-edged and vivid as blame. "You're wrong." The Stonedownors stared at him; but he could not read their faces. He hardly knew who he was. "You need to know about the Pure One."
The First's eyes sharpened. "Thomas Covenant," she rasped, "do not taunt me. The survival and purpose of the Search are in my hands. I must choose swiftly." "Then choose." Suddenly, Covenant's hands became fists, jerking blows at the invulnerable air. "Choose, and be ignorant." His weakness hurt his throat. "I'm talking about a Giant." The First winced, as if he had unexpectedly struck her to the heart. She hesitated, glancing past the company to gauge the progress of the sur-jheherrin. The head of the peninsula would be clear in moments. To Covenant, she said sternly, "Very well, Giantfriend. Speak to me of this Pure One." Giantfriend! Covenant ached. he wanted to hide his face in grief; but the passion of his memories could not be silenced. "Saltheart Foamfollower. A Giant. The last of the Giants who lived in the Land. They'd lost their way Home." Foamfollower's visage shone in front of him. It was Honninscrave's face. All his Dead were coming back to him. "Every other hope was gone. Foul had the Land in his hands, to crush it. There was nothing left. Except me. And Foamfollower. He helped me. He took me to Foul's Creche, so that I could at least fight, at least make that much restitution, die if I had to. He was burned--" Shuddering, he fought to keep his tale in order. "Before we got there, Foul trapped us. We would have been killed. But the jheherrin--the ancestors--They rescued us. In the name of the Pure One. "That was their legend--the hope that kept them sane. They believed that someday sombody pure--somebody who didn't have Foul's hands clenched in his soul--would come and free them. If they were worthy. Worthy! They were tormented. There wasn't enough weeping in all the world to describe their worth. And I couldn't--" He choked on his old rage for victims, the preterite and the dispossessed. "I had power, but I wasn't pure. I was so full of disease and violence--" his hands groped the air, came back empty. "And they still helped us. They thought they had nothing to live for, and they helped." |