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of the Masters. How may we serve you, with the Demondim massed at our gates, and their malice plain in the exhaustion of your mounts?”
    â€œ No ,” Linden said before Covenant—or Jeremiah—could respond. “Handir, stop. Think about this.”
    She spoke convulsively, goaded by inexplicable fears. “The Demondim allowed us to escape yesterday. Then they pulled back so that”—she could not say Covenant’s name, or Jeremiah’s, not now; not when she had been forbidden to touch them—“so that these people could get through. Those monsters want this.” Her throat closed for a moment. She had to swallow grief like a mouthful of ashes before she could go on. “Otherwise they would have used the Illearth Stone.”
    The Demondim had not planned this. They could not have planned it. They had not known that she would try to protect the Land by snatching them with her out of the past. If Anele had not been possessed by a being of magma and rage, and had not encountered the Vile-spawn—
    Surely Covenant and Jeremiah would not be standing in front of her, refusing her, if some powerful enemy had not willed it?
    Turning from the Voice of the Masters to Covenant, she demanded, “Are you even real?”
    The Dead in Andelain were ghosts; insubstantial. They could not be touched—
    Covenant faced her with something like mirth or scorn in his harsh gaze. “Hell and blood, Linden,” he drawled. “It’s good to see you haven’t changed. I knew you wouldn’t take all this at face value. I’m glad I can still trust you.”
    With his left hand, he beckoned for one of the Humbled. When Branl stepped forward holding a torch, Covenant took the brand from him. Waving the flame from side to side as if to demonstrate his material existence, Covenant remarked, “Oh, we’re real enough.” Aside to Jeremiah, he added, “Show her.”
    Still grinning, Jeremiah reached into the waistband of his pajamas and drew out a bright red toy racing car—the same car that Linden had seen him holding before Sheriff Lytton’s deputies had opened fire. He tossed it lightly back and forth between his hands for a moment, then tucked it away again. His manner said as clearly as words, See, Mom? See?
    Linden studied his pajamas urgently for bullet holes. But the fabric was too badly torn and stained to give any indication of what had happened to him before he had been drawn to the Land.
    None of the Masters spoke. Apparently they understood that her questions required answers.
    Abruptly Covenant handed his torch back to Branl. As Branl withdrew to stand with Galt and Clyme, Covenant returned his attention to Linden.
    â€œThis isn’t easy for you. I know that.” Now his voice sounded hoarse with disuse. He seemed to pick his words as though he had difficulty remembering the ones he wanted. “Trust me, it isn’t easy for us either.
    â€œWe’re here. But we aren’t just here.” Then he sighed. “There’s no good way to explain it. You don’t have the experience to understand it.” His brief smile reminded her that she had rarely seen such an expression on his face. Roger had smiled at her more often. “Jeremiah is here , but Foul still has him. I’m here, but I’m still part of the Arch of Time.
    â€œYou could say I’ve folded time so we can be in two places at once. Or two realities.” Another smile flickered across his mouth, contradicted by the flames reflecting in his eyes. “Being part of Time has some advantages. Not many. There are too many limitations, and the strain is fierce. But I can still do a few tricks.”
    For a moment, his hands reached out as if he wanted something from her; but he pulled them back almost at once.
    â€œThe problem with what I’m doing,” he said trenchantly, “is that you’ve got too much power, and it’s the wrong