White Gold Wielder by Stephen R. Donaldson Read Free Book Online

evil which you name Lord Foul the Despiser. That is untrue. If you mislike my word, consider other knowledge. Would this Despiser have sent his servant the Raver against you in the storm, when already a servant such as myself stood among you? No. You cannot credit it. Yet I must say to you openly that there is a shadow upon the hearts of the
Elohim
. It is seen in this, that we were able to conceive no path of salvation which would spare you.
    “You have not forgotten that there were those among us who did not wish to spare you.
    “Surely it is plain that for us the easiest path lay in the simple wresting from him of the ring. With wild magic could we bid any Despite defiance. Then for beings such as we are it would be no great task to achieve the perfection of the Earth. Yet that we did not do. Some among us feared the arrogance of such power, when a shadow plainly lay upon our hearts. And some saw that the entire price of such an act would fall upon you atone. You would be lost to yourselves, deprived of meaning and value. Perhaps the meaning and value of the Earth would be diminished as well.
    “Therefore we chose a harder path—to share with you the burden of redemption and the risk of doom. The ring-wielder we silenced, not to harm him, but to spare the Earth the ill of power without sight. As that silence preserved him from the malice of Kasreyn of the Gyre, so also would it have preserved him from the Despiser’s intent at the One Tree. Thus the choice would have fallen to you in the end. His ring you might have taken unto yourself, thereby healing the breach between sight and power. Or perhaps you might have ceded the ring to me, empowering the
Elohim
to save the Earth after their fashion. Then would we have had no need to fear ourselves, for a power given is altogether different than one wrested away. But whatever your choice, there would have been hope. To accomplish such hope, the price of the ring-wielder’s silence—and of my Appointment—appeared to be neither too great nor too ill.
    “That you took from us. In the dungeon of the Sandhold, you chose the wrong which you name possession above the responsibility of sight, and the hope we strove to nurture was lost.
    “Now I say to you that he must be persuaded to surrender his ring. If he does not, it is certain that he will destroy the Earth.”
    For a moment, Covenant reeled down the path of Findail’s explanation. His balance was gone. To hear his own dread expressed so starkly, like a verdict! But when he turned toward Linden, he saw that she had been hit harder than he. Her face had gone pale. Her hands made small, fugitive movements at her sides. Her mouth tried to form a denial, but she had no strength for it. Confronted by the logic of her actions as Findail saw it, she was horrified. Once again, he placed her at the center, at the cusp of responsibility and blame. And Covenant’s earlier revelation was still too recent: she had not had time to absorb it. She had claimed fault for herself—but had not understood the extent to which she might be accused.
    Ire for her stabilized him. Findail had no right to drop the whole weight of the Earth on her in this way. “It’s not that simple,” he began. He did not know the true name of his objection. But Linden faced him in mute appeal; and he did not let himself falter. “If Foul planned this all along, why did he go to the trouble?” That was not what he needed to ask. Yet he pursued it, hoping it would lead him to the right place. “Why didn’t he just wake up the Worm himself?”
    Findail’s gaze held Linden. When her wide eyes went back to his, he replied, “This Despiser is not mad. Should be rouse the Worm himself, without the wild magic in his hand, would he not also be consumed in the destruction of the world?”
    Covenant shrugged the argument aside, went on searching for the question he needed, the flaw in Findail’s rationalizations. “Then why didn’t you tell us sooner?