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her decision were a victory.
    The First and Honninscrave did not hesitate. Leaving the wheeldeck to the Storesmaster, they went down the stairs; and he sent a Giant hastening ahead of him to rouse the rest of the crew. Linden and Covenant followed more slowly. Brinn and Cail, Ceer and Hergrom formed a protective cordon around them as they moved forward to meet the Giants who came springing out of hatchways from their hammocks in Saltroamrest below the foredeck. Shortly every crewmember who could be spared from the care of the
dromond
was present and ready.
    Pitchwife and Seadreamer were there as well. But the First’s demeanor checked Pitchwife’s natural loquacity; and Seadreamer bore himself with an air of resignation.
    In a tone of constricted brevity, forcibly restraining his Giantish outrage at the slayer of the Unhomed, Honninscrave detailed the situation to his crew, described what had to be done. When he finished, the First added sternly, “It appears that this peril is directed toward Covenant Giantfriend and the Chosen. They must be preserved at any hazard. Forget not that he is the redeemer of our lost kindred and holds a power which must not fall to this Raver. And she is a physician of great skill and insight, whose purpose in this quest is yet to be revealed. Preserve them and rid the Search of this ill.”
    She might have said more. She was a Swordmain; her desire to strike blows in the name of the Unhomed was plain in her voice. But Pitchwife interposed lightly, “It is enough. Are we not Giants? We require no urging to defend our comrades.”
    “Then make haste,” she responded. “The scouring of Starfare’s Gem is no small matter.”
    Honninscrave promptly organized the Giants into groups of two and sent them below. Then he turned to Linden. “Now, Chosen.” The command came from him firmly, as if he were bred for emergencies. “Guide us.”
    She had been groping for a way to find the Raver, but had conceived no other method than to pace the ship, trying to track down the intruder’s presence. As severely as she could, she said, “Forget everything under the wheeldeck. My cabin’s down there. If it were that close, I would’ve known sooner.”
    Through one of the open hatches, the Anchormaster relayed this information to the search parties below.
    As the moon set behind Starfare’s Gem, Linden Avery began to walk the afterdeck.
    Working her way between the railings, she moved deliberately forward. At every step, she fought to overcome her distinctive resistance, struggled to open herself to the Raver’s ambience. Even through her shoes, her senses were alive to the stone of the
dromond
. The granite mapped itself under her: she could feel the Giants hunting below her until they descended beyond her range. But the evil remained hidden, vague and fatal.
    Soon the muscles along the backs of her legs began to cramp. Her nerves winced at each step. Gibbon had taught every inch of her body to dread Ravers. But she did not stop.
    Dawn came not long after moonset, though the time felt long to her; and the sun caught her halfway up the afterdeck, nearly level with the midmast. She was shivering with strain and could not be certain that she had not already passed over the Raver’s covert. When Ceer offered her a drink of water, she paused to accept it. But then she went on, knurling her concentration in both fists so that she would not falter.
    Covenant had seated himself in a coil of hawser as large as a bed on one side of Foodfendhall. Brinn and Hergrom stood poised near him. He was watching her with a heavy scowl, radiating his frustration and helplessness, his anger at the blindness of his senses.
    In fear that she would weaken, fail again,
again
, Linden increased her pace.
    Before she reached the housing, a sudden spasm in her legs knocked her to the deck.
    At once, Cail and Ceer caught her arms, lifted her erect.
    “Here,” she panted. A fire of revulsion burned through her knees into her