Free Fatal Revenant by Stephen R. Donaldson Page A

baleful green of disdain filled his gaze.
    â€œGod in Heaven,” Linden muttered under her breath. Trembling, she forced herself to loosen her grip on the Staff; drop Covenant’s ring back under her shirt. Then she met Esmer’s eyes as squarely as she could.
    â€œSo which is it this time?” She almost had to shout to make herself heard. Aid and betrayal. “I’ve never seen so many—”
    She was familiar with Esmer’s inbred rage at the Haruchai . He had nearly killed Stave with it. If Hyn’s arrival, and Hynyn’s, had not stayed his hand—
    Because of the Haruchai, there will be endless havoc!
    The Masters would not expect an assault from the direction of the plateau.
    If the Waynhim condoned—or at least tolerated—the presence of the ur-viles, she could be sure that she was not in danger. Perhaps the Masters and Revelstone were also safe. Yet she could not imagine any explanation for Esmer’s actions except treachery.
    Fervently she hoped that Mahrtiir would not rush to her aid. She trusted him; but his presence would complicate her confrontation with Esmer.
    However, Kevin’s Dirt had blunted the Manethrall’s senses. And the Demondim-spawn were able to disguise their presence. If the shape of the hills contained the clamor—or if the sound of the river muffled it—he might be unaware of what transpired.
    â€œâ€˜Keeping score’?” replied Esmer sardonically. “‘Count’? Such speech is unfamiliar to me. Nonetheless your meaning is plain. In the scales of your eyes, if by no other measure, my betrayals have outweighed my aid. You are ignorant of many things, Wildwielder. Were your misjudgments not cause for scorn, they would distress me.”
    She had often seen him look distressed when he spoke to her.
    â€œStop it, Esmer,” she ordered flatly. “I’m tired of hearing you avoid simple honesty.” And she was painfully aware of her ignorance. “I called you because I need answers . You can start with the question I just asked. Why are these creatures here?”
    A flicker that might have been uncertainty or glee disturbed the flowing disdain in his eyes. “And do you truly conceive that I have come in response to your summons? Do you imagine that you are in any fashion capable of commanding me?”
    Around Linden, the ur-viles and Waynhim yowled and snarled like wolves contending over a carcass. She could hardly recognize her own thoughts. As if to ready a threat of her own, she clenched her fists. “I said, stop it.”
    She wanted to be furious at him. Ire would have made her stronger. But her writhen nausea described his underlying plight explicitly. He could not reconcile his conflicting legacies, and behind his disdain was a rending anguish.
    More in exasperation than anger, she continued, “I don’t care whether I actually summoned you or not. If you aren’t going to answer my questions,” if he himself did not constitute an answer, “go away. Let your new allies do whatever they came to do.”
    Neither Esmer’s expression nor his manner changed. In the same mordant tone, he responded, “There speaks more ignorance, Wildwielder. These makings are not my ‘allies.’ Indeed, their mistrust toward me far surpasses your own.”
    He heaved a sarcastic sigh. “You have heard me account for my actions, and for those of the ur-viles and Waynhim as well. Still you do not comprehend. I have not garnered these surviving remnants of their kind from the abysm of time in order to serve me. Nor would they accept such service for any cause. I have enabled their presence here, and they have accepted it, so that they may serve you.”
    â€œ Serve me?” Linden wanted to plead with the Demondim-spawn to lower their voices. Their shouting forced her to bark as roughly as they did. “How?”
    Did they believe that less than a hundred Waynhim