Against All Things Ending Part 14

And A terrible power lives here A terrible power lives here: another warning that Linden could not afford to heed.

Outwardly she seemed steady enough. Her hands did not shake. The steam of her breathing did not blind her. Nevertheless her heart s.h.i.+vered as if she were too cold to move- -as cold as she had felt in the winter of the Land's past, where Roger Covenant and the croyel croyel had betrayed her. had betrayed her.

After a moment, however, Rime Coldspray spoke. "Doubtless we have been granted a precious insight." She sounded like a clenched fist. "In this, the Ardent has spoken sooth. Here we have gained knowledge of the world's plight which we could not have obtained by other means. Yet it is of no present import. It will serve no purpose if we do not both retrieve Linden Giantfriend's son and evade the perils of this demesne."

No present import. Yes. Coldspray's voice seemed to draw the Ironhand and all of the Giants out of the shadows cast by Liand's wavering light. Her tone restored their normal solidity. Linden's impression that she could hear or feel the echoes of extinct Viles receded.

-if we do not both- Repulsed by the taste of the stale air, she took a flinching breath. The Sunstone made respiration possible; but the atmosphere of the cavern was too stagnant to be refreshed by mere orcrest orcrest.-if we do not-Coldspray had broken the trance of Anele's utterances. Now it was Linden's turn.

But she had too many concerns. She wanted to help or caution the Harrow, and understand Anele, and catch hold of Covenant as he fell like water dripping from the stalact.i.tes. She believed that she would be content if she could find Jeremiah; if she could close her arms around him one last time. She tried to believe that. But it was not the truth. She needed to see him freed from the croyel croyel. And she would never be content without Covenant.

For her own sake, she wanted Covenant to be whole. Then she might be able to forgive herself. But he was essential for less selfish reasons as well.

If she could not think clearly in this fug of stagnation and impercipience, she should at least move. Rise to her feet. Do something. But she was too weak. s.h.i.+vering spread outward from her heart. The small effort of lifting her head was beyond her.

After a moment, Manethrall Mahrtiir asked tentatively, "Is it conceivable that the Harrow also has spoken sooth?" He sounded unsure of himself, almost timid; daunted by ancientness and immeasurable stone and intimations of evil. Truly blinded. "Will his intent for white gold and the Staff of Law and the Ringthane's son serve to forbid the Worm? Will his ploys suffice to preclude the Worm from the Blood of the Earth?"

Flatly Stave replied, "Anele's words suggest otherwise. To his ears, or in his sight, the requisite knowledge is remembered only here. The Harrow does not truly comprehend the Worm."

"Then," stated Galt, "the burden falls to the Unbeliever. The promises of the Harrow are false."

"Not so," the Ardent objected, swirling his raiment in repudiation. He spoke loudly; yet the anxiety in his eyes, and the hectic flush of his round cheeks, belied his tone. In spite of the chill, his face was damp with sweat and apprehension. "Doubtless he does not foresee all things to their ends. And perchance his intent is flawed by arrogance or ignorance. Nonetheless he must hold fast to his given oath. If he does not, he will perish in madness.

"The Insequent who have charged me to constrain and aid him foretell one thing and also another. Some scry wisdom and vindication where others find only auguries of failure. It is conceivable that both are equally prescient, alike inspired and fallible. Therefore they conclude that the fate of the Earth is too conflicted to be known with any a.s.surance. For that reason, I am sent to arbitrate uncertain outcomes.

"Perhaps a-Jeroth of the Seven h.e.l.ls believes that his sight is sure. If he does so, the Insequent trust that he errs."

"You're probably right," Covenant said abruptly; harshly. "But what's the point?"

His voice s.n.a.t.c.hed Linden out of her immobility. She found herself on her feet without realizing that she had arisen.

From a safe distance, and secured by the Humbled, he stood peering into the abyss. Linden retained enough health-sense to recognize that he had not returned to the present. He was a prophet of the past, and he spoke to ghosts. Wandering among his memories, he replied to questions that had not been asked by anyone living.

"You can't kill kill her," he snorted as if his answer disgusted him. "If she isn't as old as Lord Foul, she might as well be. And she's become just as dangerous. The only difference is, she doesn't her," he snorted as if his answer disgusted him. "If she isn't as old as Lord Foul, she might as well be. And she's become just as dangerous. The only difference is, she doesn't think think. She feels feels. He has ambitions she can't imagine-and he's way more patient. Most of the time, she sleeps because she doesn't know any other way to endure her frustration."

Then Covenant apparently slipped into another fissure. He fell silent. His bandaged hands twitched as if they were groping for something tangible; some bedrock fact or perception to which he could cling. But he did not find one.

Liand cleared his throat. "Linden." He made a palpable effort to sound less intimidated than Mahrtiir. "The Harrow does not act. If he attempts some incantation, he does so in silence, motionless. Should his knowledge prove insufficient-"

The Stonedownor's voice faded into a sigh of doubt.

"The Insequent," Clyme p.r.o.nounced severely, "esteem their prowess too highly. Their arts demean the unwary, but they cannot redeem themselves."

The Ardent appeared to consider a retort, then swallow it.

For a moment, Linden stood like Covenant, as if she, too, had fallen into a memory from which she could not escape. But she was not trapped there. She was choosing necessary recollections.

First, the Harrow had once said to her, I desire this curious stick to which you cling as though it possessed the virtue to ward you I desire this curious stick to which you cling as though it possessed the virtue to ward you.

The Staff of Law, her her Staff. With wild magic and bereavement and love, she had fused the living powers of Vain and Findail into an instrument of Law. Under Staff. With wild magic and bereavement and love, she had fused the living powers of Vain and Findail into an instrument of Law. Under Melenkurion Melenkurion Skyweir, her Staff had been transformed to blackness in battle. Ten thousand years ago, Caerroil Wildwood had defined it with runes. His lore had contributed to Covenant's resurrection. Skyweir, her Staff had been transformed to blackness in battle. Ten thousand years ago, Caerroil Wildwood had defined it with runes. His lore had contributed to Covenant's resurrection.

Second, I crave the circle of white gold which lies hidden by your raiment.

Wild magic. The crux and keystone of the Arch of Time. It was the essence of Thomas Covenant's spirit reified in a fundamentally flawed and flawless alloy: his wedding band, the symbol and manifestation of his transcendent humanity.

And last, I covet the unfettered wrath at the center of your heart. It will nourish me as the Demondim did not It will nourish me as the Demondim did not.

Linden had not understood him then: she did now. He was referring to the legacy of Gallows Howe. He wanted her granite ire, her emotional extravagance, to help him impose his will on Jeremiah and the croyel croyel. But the Mahdoubt had prevented him from claiming Linden. Finally she knew why. She knew, as the Harrow did not, that there was more to Gallows Howe than rage and slaughter, death and retribution.

Why else had the Forestal of Garroting Deep asked her a question that she did not know how to answer?

Because of the Mahdoubt's sacrifice, Linden could offer herself to the Harrow without fearing his power to consume her. When he had guided her to Jeremiah and the croyel croyel, she would still be able to fight for her son.

Somehow.

Nodding in the direction of the Harrow, she tried to answer the expectant silence of her companions.

"I should go." To herself, she sounded vague and faint, as tenuous as a figure in a dream. "Opening that portal takes something more than Earthpower and Law. That's why the Harrow didn't just want my Staff and Covenant's ring. He wanted me me.

"The ur-viles and Waynhim could help us, but they aren't here. They couldn't have brought us here. The Ardent says that there's nothing he can do. And I've at least met met the Viles." the Viles." You serve a purpose not your own, and have no purpose You serve a purpose not your own, and have no purpose. "That's more than the Harrow can say. They were long gone before he started to study them. Everything he knows is based on inferences.

"I should try to help him before he makes a mistake and kills us."

She was still watching Covenant, hoping that he would hear her and respond. After a moment, however, she forced herself to look around at her friends. Facing Liand, and then Mahrtiir and his Cords, and then the Giants, she added, "Unless you have a better idea."

Liand could not conceal his anxiety, and did not try. Holding up the light of the orcrest orcrest seemed to take most of his strength. The Manethrall bowed his head as if he sought to veil his consternation; his weakness. Pahni clung to Liand's free arm, hid her face against his shoulder for comfort. Bhapa swallowed several times, opened and closed his mouth, apparently trying to find words for his chagrin. Then he glanced helplessly around him and gave up. seemed to take most of his strength. The Manethrall bowed his head as if he sought to veil his consternation; his weakness. Pahni clung to Liand's free arm, hid her face against his shoulder for comfort. Bhapa swallowed several times, opened and closed his mouth, apparently trying to find words for his chagrin. Then he glanced helplessly around him and gave up.

Towering above the rest of the company, the Giants met Linden's gaze squarely. Some of them looked abashed, perhaps reluctant to admit their alarm and uncertainty. Grueburn and Cabledarm studied Linden as if they were trying to gauge her capacity to surprise them. But Rime Coldspray grinned like the blade of a scimitar, coldly, and with a keen edge.

"Linden Giantfriend, we displayed true Giantish folly when we elected to accompany the Harrow. To recant our unwisdom now would shame all who hear our tale." The Ironhand gave an exaggerated shrug. More seriously, she continued, "To remain as we are achieves naught. Covenant Timewarden has given us warning, and must be heeded. If you deem that your acquaintance with the Viles, or your familiarity with the Staff of Law, may be of aid to the Harrow, I pray only that he will permit your efforts."

The other Swordmainnir nodded with varying degrees of confidence. But Galt and Branl shook their heads; and Clyme asked inflexibly, "What magic do you possess, Linden Avery, that will meet our need? Are you not self-bereft of every vital resource?"

Before Linden could reply, Mahrtiir jerked up his head, took a step forward. "What concern is this of yours, sleepless one?" His old animosity toward the Masters countered the weight of his intimidation. "You have made plain that your devoir is to the Timewarden. Why then do you oppose the Ringthane in any attempt which may succor him as it does us?"

"Subsequent events-" began Clyme.

"-are not foreknown to you, Haruchai Haruchai," put in the Ardent unexpectedly. "The lady seeks the recovery of her son. What further justification of her deeds do you require?"

"Subsequent events," Clyme repeated, "may reveal that the lady, as you name her, is not done with Desecration. Did not the Mahdoubt give battle and so perish to prevent the surrender which Linden Avery now contemplates?"

"Oh, stop." Linden wrapped her arms around her to contain her s.h.i.+vering. "I'm not going to surrender surrender. If I do that, I'll never see Jeremiah again. There won't be anything left of me."

She had already given up everything else.

"Silence your pride," Stave advised the Humbled. He sounded distant; uninterested. But the play of reflections in his eye gave the impression that he was laughing to himself. "No deed or dare of the Chosen's will lessen the import of the Unbeliever's presence, or of your service to him. Come good or ill, boon or bane, he remains the Unbeliever, ur-Lord Thomas Covenant. And has he not urged you to accept her path? When you have no other guidance, it is poor fidelity to speak against his wishes."

If the Humbled debated Stave's counsel, or their own commitments, they did so in silence. None of them voiced any further objection.

"All right." Linden gave herself no chance to hesitate. She did not share Covenant's vertigo; but the depths of the cavern were crowded with terrors nonetheless. If she paused to think about them-"Stay here," she told her friends. "Don't try to cross until you can see that I've succeeded-or the Harrow has. There's no sense in risking yourselves yet. And I don't think that orcrest orcrest or the or the krill krill is likely to be of much use." is likely to be of much use."

"Do not fear for us," Coldspray replied, still grinning sharply. "We have no wish to meet our deaths in this dire chasm."

"Good." More to encourage herself than to express approval, Linden nodded. "As long as Liand can hold off the worst of Kevin's Dirt, you'll probably know what happens as soon as I do."

While her companions watched and waited, Linden gripped herself tightly and started toward the span. When Stave moved to join her, she did not refuse his company.

From her perspective of trepidation, the bridge-the Hazard-looked more delicate and fragile than it had seemed earlier. Making it, they risked everything Making it, they risked everything. Who they were Who they were. What they meant to themselves What they meant to themselves. As she did. And the ceiling of the immense cavern loomed, louring like thunderheads. Hints of chiaroscuro reflected back and forth among the stalact.i.tes, implying lightning. Any one of those wet and straining shapes was heavy enough to break the span if it fell.

Stave walked at her side, so close that his shoulder brushed hers. In spite of her fears for him-for all of her companions-she welcomed the support of his inhuman strength, his argute senses. His dedication might serve as valor if or when her dreads threatened to paralyze her.

Together, Linden Avery and the former Master left safer rock and began to ascend the shallow arc of the Hazard.

Really, she insisted to herself, this ought to be easy. It was a short walk, perhaps two hundred paces. If she kept her gaze fixed on the far wall, did not look down-Yet the black abyss seemed to reach up as though it meant to s.n.a.t.c.h her off the bridge. The darkness itself may have been alive.

Covenant gave no sign that he had noticed what she was doing.

She could still feel the taut attention of her friends behind her. But every step took her farther from Liand and light. As the radiance of the Sunstone dimmed, her health-sense faded with it. Soon she would not be able to discern her companions at all. Unless she turned to look- Feeling like a coward, she murmured to Stave, "Don't let me fall. That chasm-" She shuddered. "It pulls at me."

Stave touched his solid shoulder to hers. "Even here, Chosen, the sight of the Haruchai Haruchai is merely diminished. It has not failed. This stone is sure. The weight of the Giants together may endanger it. We do not." is merely diminished. It has not failed. This stone is sure. The weight of the Giants together may endanger it. We do not."

He considered for a moment, then added, "Yet we must not tarry. There is evil here. Its malice lacks the distinct malevolence of Corruption, but it is malice nonetheless."

Linden believed him. She felt only the seduction of the plunge below her; but she trusted his perceptions.

The light continued to weaken as the span rose. The dead air became an ache in her lungs. With every step, she moved deeper into memories of winter; of killing cold fraught with manipulation and treachery, and full of Jeremiah's enslavement.

As her percipience waned, she lost her ability to locate the Harrow. His dun raiment had become indistinguishable from the dark portal. If he had found his way inward and gone ahead without her, she would not have known the difference. But Stave would have told her-And the Insequent had given his oath. The same strictures which had doomed the Mahdoubt ruled him as well.

On both sides of the Hazard, water trickled incessantly down the sides of the stalact.i.tes and fell like omens; promises of plummeting.

Then she and Stave pa.s.sed the crest of the bridge and descended into shadow.

She was effectively blinded. An irrational certainty that she had begun to drift toward the unguarded rim of the span clutched at her. Fingers of ice reached through her clothes to torment her flesh. A whimper that she was barely able to contain clogged her throat.

But Stave took hold of her arm to steady her. "Calm your heart, Chosen," he said as though he feared neither echoes nor banes. "The Harrow awaits you. It appears that he has ceased his own efforts, whatever they may have been. Now he regards you with suspicion and hope. I deem that he dreads the consequences of error, and that his dread has defeated him. He will accept your aid, for his alternative is humiliation and death."

Linden trusted his reading of the Harrow. She had no choice. His firm grasp was all that kept her from hastening toward the relative sanctuary of broad granite at the foot of the bridge. She wanted to get off get off the Hazard. As her steps descended from darkness to darkness, her visceral conviction that the span would crack and collapse increased until it affected her more than bad air or cold or stifled percipience. the Hazard. As her steps descended from darkness to darkness, her visceral conviction that the span would crack and collapse increased until it affected her more than bad air or cold or stifled percipience.

Through the drumming of her pulse, she hardly heard Stave announce, "The Chosen comes to proffer her a.s.sistance, Insequent. A courteous man would welcome her with light to ease her way."

"And do you now consider yourself an arbiter of courtesies, Haruchai Haruchai?" the deep loam of the Harrow's voice replied. "You who only give battle or show disdain, disregarding the stature of those whom you encounter?

"My knowledge of courtesy exceeds yours, as does my prowess. Thus!"

Directly ahead of Linden, and no more than a dozen paces away, an umber illumination appeared as all of the beads on the Harrow's doublet began to glow simultaneously.

They cast a dull light that revealed little more than the Insequent and his immediate surroundings. But that was enough to let Linden see where she placed her feet.

The bridge ended in a b.u.t.tressed shelf of gutrock just outside the high archway of the entrance to the Lost Deep. The Harrow's brown lumination did not extend beyond the plane of the portal: there it met sheer blackness as blunt and impermeable as burnished ebony. But Linden could see him and the foot of the span clearly enough.

Through the dusk crouching above her, she saw that the curve of the door was marked with strange symbols which she did not recognize.

The shelf extended for several long strides on either side of the sealed entrance. It was wide enough to accommodate the Giants. And in the center of the un.o.bstructed stone, the Insequent still knelt as Rime Coldspray had described him: bent on one knee; gripping Covenant's ring near his forehead; holding Linden's Staff planted squarely on the stone. The chain on which she had worn the ring dangled from his fingers, swaying slightly. His posture suggested that her approach had interrupted his concentration. His fathomless eyes regarded her like smaller instances of the cavern's depths: more human than the abyss, but no less fatal.

"The Haruchai Haruchai speaks of a.s.sistance, lady," the Harrow remarked, affecting scorn. But his contempt sounded hollow. "Do you conceive that I require any aid of yours?" speaks of a.s.sistance, lady," the Harrow remarked, affecting scorn. But his contempt sounded hollow. "Do you conceive that I require any aid of yours?"

"Of course you do." An inward rush carried Linden off the bridge. Then she stopped, s.h.i.+vering with relief. In spite of the cold, the enduring granite under her boots affected her like certainty. "You knew that when we first met. You've been trying to open that door on your own, but you can't. And you can't afford to make a mistake."

When Stave released her arm, she grasped his to anchor her. "Those symbols," she asked the Insequent, glancing upward. "Can you read them? What do they say?"

The Harrow studied her, loathing the oath which the Mahdoubt had wrested from him. "Their import is no mystery. They proclaim merely that beyond this portal lies the demesne and habitation of the sovereign Viles, monarchs of this realm, great in lore and peril, and unforgiving of intrusion. Further, the symbols counsel all with the wit to read them to turn aside. Here any who enter unwelcomed will discover only doom."

Then he shrugged. "Sovereign or no, the Viles are long extinguished. Of their sp.a.w.n, only those few ur-viles and Waynhim which betimes endeavor to serve you endure. I do not fear the doom of this place. When I have unbound its restrictions, no harm will remain to daunt me."

"In other words," Linden retorted, "you still don't have a clue." Her scorn was as hollow as his: she was too cold and truncated to feel disdain; had to fight too hard for breath. "I think that I can help you. If you let me."

" 'Let you, lady?" mused the Harrow as though the idea held little interest. "I do not oppose you. In what form do you crave my permit?"

Gallows Howe, she might have answered. Rage. Slaughter. That's what you think the Viles were like. You think that's how they would have answered intrusion. You think that I can unlock blackness with blackness.

But she did not waste her flagging energy on a useless attempt to correct his misapprehensions. Already she was light-headed with hypoxia. The glow of the Harrow's beads did nothing to cleanse the air. Soon she would be too weak to stand.

Panting, she explained, "If you let me use my Staff." Before he could object, she added, "I'm not asking you to give it back. But somehow your hold on it blocks me." Once she could have drawn Earthpower from it without grasping it; but he had erected a barrier against her. "Just let me touch it." Let me be myself again, at least for a little while. "Let me borrow what it can do. Then I may be able to feel my way through the wards. If I see see them, maybe I can open the door." them, maybe I can open the door."

While the Harrow considered her, perhaps searching for some indication of trickery, Stave asked flatly, "Is this hesitation, Insequent? If the doom of the Lost Deep does not inspire dread, how does it chance that you fear the Chosen's aid?"

The Harrow scowled darkly, but did not respond to Stave's challenge. Instead he continued to scrutinize Linden until he found something that satisfied him. Then he nodded.

Swinging the chain of Covenant's ring as if that small movement were an arcane gesture, he said brusquely, "Make the attempt, lady."

In simple weakness, Linden wanted to lie down. p.r.o.ne, she could take hold of her Staff by its end: all she needed was its touch. But pride or stubbornness kept her on her feet as she moved to stand, trembling, in front of the Insequent. Striving for steadiness, she reached out with both hands and closed her fingers around the Staff of Law.

Contact with the warm wood was like a rebirth.

She had no measure for the extent to which Kevin's Dirt had diminished her until her nerves felt the healing current of Earthpower and Law, the precise elucidation of Caerroil Wildwood's runes. Then she became able to recognize how wan and superficial her sight had been without percipience. G.o.d, how had she borne it? How did the people of the Land who had never known health-sense endure their lives? Her existence in her natural world, the world which she had lost, had been fundamentally transformed by her previous hours or months with Covenant. During that time, she had grown familiar with seeing and hearing and touching and tasting the spiritual essence of all things: the underlying life-pulse of vitality and wonder. She did not know who she would have been if she had never experienced the Land; but she believed that she would have remained emotionally crippled, as damaged and despairing as her parents. The legacy of her father's suicide and her mother's death would have continued to define her.

Now everything around her seemed to unfold, to blossom, as though she had stepped into a new dimension of reality. She felt the obdurate antiquity of the rock under her; the sheer age and indifference of the air; the specific stability and limitations of the Hazard; the ponderous downward yearning of the stalact.i.tes; the commingled eagerness and submission of water as it gathered and trickled down the gnarled surfaces of the stalact.i.tes to fall like streams of time into the extinction of the abyss. She perceived the Harrow's anxieties and hungers, and Stave's stubborn strength, as if they impinged directly on her skin. She became aware of her own body-of its inherent inadequacies, and of its bedrock desire to live-as if her veins and nerves, muscles and sinews, were limned in light. And in the distance far below her, she sensed the restless lurk of something evil- But those were the Staff's pa.s.sive effects. As soon as she began to draw on its power, the stagnation was banished from her lungs: she could breathe cleanly again. New energy ran like the effects of hurtloam through her veins. She recognized Liand's brave and tiring efforts to keep his orcrest orcrest alight; identified each of the Giants and the Ramen, each of the Humbled. She felt Anele's slumber and Covenant's trackless wandering. She could have pointed to the exact spot where Loric's alight; identified each of the Giants and the Ramen, each of the Humbled. She felt Anele's slumber and Covenant's trackless wandering. She could have pointed to the exact spot where Loric's krill krill, wrapped in vellum and lambent with possibilities, was tucked into the waist of Covenant's jeans.

Nevertheless more immediate sensations demanded her attention. While the Harrow regarded her avidly, and Stave watched as if nothing had changed, she tasted the presence of complex theurgies.

The blackness that filled the portal of the Lost Deep was not blank: it was a seething ma.s.s of magicks, twisted and insidiously recursive. And its implications were not contained within the archway. Instead they extended in long looping tendrils, and in cl.u.s.ters like knot work, to form a web or skein of utter fuligin around the entire length of the Hazard. In some respects, the portal's dark strands resembled Jeremiah's racetrack construct: if she tried to follow their flow from one place to another, she would find herself in a maze from which there was no egress. But Jeremiah's construct had been a door: one through which only he could pa.s.s, but a door nonetheless. The tangle that enclosed the bridge was formed for destruction. If even one of its strings were plucked, it would convulse, taking the granite substance of the span with it. In an instant, the bridge would become rubble falling endlessly into the depths.

In the initial wash of Earthpower, Linden saw that the wards defending the Hazard were like the Demondim. Having no tangible forms, they would be lost to will and deed without some containing ensorcelment to preserve them from dissolution Having no tangible forms, they would be lost to will and deed without some containing ensorcelment to preserve them from dissolution. Imagine that they were bound to themselves by threads of lore and purpose Imagine that they were bound to themselves by threads of lore and purpose. And the Harrow had told her that he had learned the trick of unbinding them learned the trick of unbinding them. But apparently his knowledge did not extend to undoing the magicks here-or he was unable to discern the similarity between the way in which the Viles had given shape to the Demondim and the manner in which they had guarded their hidden realm.

He did not know how to use the Staff- To an extent, however, the web threatening the bridge was chaff; distraction. Anyone who did not try to enter the Lost Deep could cross the span repeatedly without harm. The real danger, the crucial tangle, was here here, concealed inside the portal's cryptic moiling. One touch to the wrong strand would release ruin. But plucking the correct thread would open the Lost Deep. Severing that thread would unravel the wards completely, erasing their power from the span.

Sighing to herself, Linden thought, Well, sure. If only it were that easy. Tugging or cutting the proper strand with Law and Earthpower might not be difficult. However, identifying identifying that tendril within the sensory confusion of the Viles' lore would be as arduous as finding the that tendril within the sensory confusion of the Viles' lore would be as arduous as finding the caesure caesure through which the Demondim horde had invoked the Illearth Stone. And here she did not have the horde's evanescent hints of emerald and migraine to guide her. She did not have the ichor of the ur-viles and Waynhim to augment her health-sense. through which the Demondim horde had invoked the Illearth Stone. And here she did not have the horde's evanescent hints of emerald and migraine to guide her. She did not have the ichor of the ur-viles and Waynhim to augment her health-sense.