One Tree Read Free

her attention. Noise bubbled out of the vessel like a froth of gaiety. Hawsers were thrownto Pitchwife and Seadreamer, who snubbed them taut to the long-unused belaying-posts of the pier. Starfare’s Gem rubbed its shoulders against the sides of the levee, settled itself at rest. And as soon as the
dromond
had been secured, the Master and his crew of two score Giants swung down ropes and ladders, bounding to the piers.
    There they saluted the First with affection, hugged Seadreamer, shouted their pleasure at Pitchwife. The First returned their respects gravely: with her iron hair and her broadsword, she held their familiarity at a distance. But Pitchwife expressed enough mirth to compensate for Seadreamer’s mute resignation; and shortly the Giants began to roil forward to look at the city of the Unhomed, their ancient lost kindred. Linden found herself surrounded by weathered, brawny men and women twice her height—sailors built like oaks, and yet as full of movement and wonder as saplings. All of them were plainly dressed in the habiliments of their work—in sarks of mail formed of interlocking stone discs and heavy leather leggings—but nothing else about them was drab. They were colorful in language and exuberance and salt humor. With a swirl of activity, they restored life to The Grieve.
    Their impulse to explore the city, investigate the handiwork of their long-dead people, was palpable to Linden. And Covenant’s eyes shone in response—a recollection of the
caamora
by which he had redeemed
Coercri
from anguish, earning the title the First had given him,
Giantfriend
. But through the tumult, monolithic jests and laughter to which Pitchwife riposted gleefully, questions that the
Haruchai
answered with characteristic tersity, salutations which dazzled Linden and made Covenant straighten his back as if he sought to be taller, the First addressed Honninscrave sternly, telling him of her decision to aid Covenant’s quest. And she spoke of urgency, of the growing chancre of the Sunbane and of the difficulty of locating the One Tree, creating a new Staff of Law in time to prevent the Sunbane from tearing the heart out of the Earth. The Master’s excitement sobered rapidly. When she asked about the state of the Giantship’s supplies, he replied that the Anchormaster, his second-in-command, had reprovisioned the
dromond
while waiting off the littoral of the Great Swamp. Then he began calling his crew back to the ship.
    Several of the Giants protested good-naturedly, asking for the story of The Grieve. But Covenant was nodding to himself as if he were thinking of the way the Clave fed the Banefire and the Sunbane with blood. Honninscrave did not hesitate. “Patience, sluggards!” he responded. “Are you Giants, that a little patience eludes you? Let stories await their turn, to ease the labor of the seas. The First requires haste!”
    His command gave Linden a pang of regret. The ebullience of these Giants was the happiest thing she had seen in a long time. And she thought that perhaps Covenant might want a chance to savor what he had achieved here. But she understood him well enough to know that he would not accept honor for himself without persuasion. Moving closer to him, she thrust her voice through the clamor. “Berek found the One Tree, and he didn’t have any Giants to help him. How far away can it be?”
    He did not look at her. The
dromond
held his gaze. Under his beard, he chewed a mood which was half excitement, half trepidation.
    “Sunder and Hollian will do everything they can,” she went on. “And those
Haruchai
you freed aren’t going to sit on their hands. The Clave is already in trouble. We can afford a little time.”
    His eyes did not shift. But she felt his attention turn toward her. “Tell me,” he murmured, barely audible through the interchanges of the Giants. They and the
Haruchai
had ranged themselves expectantlyalong the pier. “Do you think I should have tried to destroy the Clave?