Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant by Stephen R. Donaldson Page B

beginning, and need not remain so until the end.
    “Doubtless your knowledge of Viles and Demondim and ur-viles has been gleaned from the Haruchai.” He had recovered his scorn. “Have they also informed you that when both the Viles and the Demondim had been undone, the ur-viles retained the lore of their making? Do you comprehend that the ur-viles continued to labor in the Lost Deep when all of their creators had
    passed away? Though the Waynhim did not arrogate such tasks to themselves, the ur-viles endeavored to fashion miracles of lore and foresight which would alter the fate of their kind, and of the Land, and of the very Earth.”
    He had shaken Linden again. Holding the Staff in the crook of her arm, she pushed her fingers through the damp tangles of her hair: she wanted to push them through her thoughts in an effort to straighten out the confusion of
    Esmer’s indirect answers.
    “Wait a minute,” she protested with her hands full of uncertainty. “Stave said—”
    He had said, Much of the black lore of the Viles and the Demondim endured to them—and much did not. Both Waynhim and ur-viles continued to dwindle. They created no descendants, and when they were slain nothing returned of them.
    Esmer snorted. The Haruchai speak of that which they know, which is little. The truth has been made plain to you, for you have known Vain. You cannot doubt that the ur-viles pursued the efforts of their makers.
    At the same time, however, more of these creatures”—he gestured around him—”came into being, both ur-viles and Waynhim. For that reason, I have been able to gather so many to your service.”
    Linden tried to interrupt him again; slow him down so that she could think. He overrode her harshly. Twisted by the contradictory demands of his heritage, he may still have been trying to answer her original question.
    But the ur-viles have created other makings also. They did not cease their labors when they had formed Vain, for they were not content. Their reinterpretation of their Weird was not yet satisfied. Therefore they have
    made—”
    Suddenly he stopped as if he had caught himself on the edge of a precipice. Chagrin darkened his gaze as he stared at her, apparently unable or unwilling to look away.
    “Made what?’ Linden breathed softly. His manner alarmed her.
    The ur-viles and Waynhim crowded closer. Ripples of dark power ran
    among them as if they were sharing intimations of vitriol; nascent outrage.
    Linden unclosed the Staff from the crook of her arm and wrapped both of her hands around it. She had too many fears: she could not allow them to daunt her. “Made what’?” she repeated more strongly.
    Esmer’s green eyes seemed to spume with anger or dread as he pronounced hoarsely, “Manacles.”
    She gaped at him in surprise. What, manacles? Fetters?
    “Why’?” she demanded. “Who are they for’?” Or what?
    Which of the powers abroad in the Land did the ur-viles hope to imprison?
    He shook his head. At the same time, the creatures started barking again, arguing incomprehensibly in their guttural tongue. Some of them made
    gestures that may have been threats or admonitions. Force rolled through them, small wavelets of energy like ripples spreading outward from the impact of their inhuman emotions; but they did not seek to concentrate it.
    Linden wanted to cover her ears. “What are they saying?” Her voice held an involuntary note of pleading. “Esmer, tell me.”
    At once, the froth of waves seemed to
    fill his eyes, concealing their deeper hues. They have heard me. They acknowledge my intent, though you do not. Now some debate the interpretation of their Weirds. Others demand that I explain their purpose further.” He folded his arms like bands across his chest. But I will not. The debt between us I have redeemed, and more. In this, there is no power sufficient to compel me.”
    Around him, the shouting of the
    creatures subsided to an angry mutter. Or perhaps their low sounds expressed