The 1st Chronicles of Thomas Covenant #2: The Illearth War Read Online Free PDF

at him, he beckoned with two fingers. “You, Covenant. Come here.”
    “Covenant?” the trucker yelped. “You’re really Covenant?”
    Covenant heeled around awkwardly, as if under tattered canvas, to meet this fresh assault. As he focused his eyes on the driver, he saw that the big man’s face was flushed with vehemence. He met the red glare as bravely as he could. “I told you I was.”
    “Now I’m going to get it!” the driver grated. “We’re all going to get it! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
    The patrons of The Door were thrusting to their feet to watch what was happening. Over their heads, the sheriff shouted, “Don’t touch him!” and began wading through the crowd.
    Covenant lost his balance in the confusion. He tripped, caught something like a thumb or the corner of a chair in his eye, and sprawled under a table.
    People yelled and milled around. The sheriff roared orders through the din. Then with one heave of his arm, he knocked away the table over Covenant.
    Covenant looked gauntly up from the floor. His bruised eye watered thickly, distorting everything over him. With the back of his hand, he pushed away the tears.
    Blinking and concentrating fiercely, he made out two men standing above him-the sheriff and his former tablemate.
    Swaying slightly on locked knees, the solemn man looked dispassionately down at Covenant. In a smudged and expended voice, he delivered his verdict. “My wife is the finest woman in the world.”
    The sheriff pushed the man away, then bent over Covenant, brandishing a face full of teeth. “That’s enough. I’m just looking for something to charge you with, so don’t give me any trouble. You hear me? Get up.”
    Covenant felt too weak to move, and he could not see clearly. But he did not want the kind of help the sheriff might give him. He rolled over and pushed himself up from the floor.
    He reached his feet, listing badly to one side; but the sheriff made no move to support him. He braced himself on the back of a chair, and looked defiantly around the hushed spectators. At last, the gin seemed to be affecting him. He pulled himself erect, adjusted his tie with a show of dignity.
    “Get going,” the sheriff commanded from his superior height.
    But for one more moment Covenant did not move. Though he could not be sure of anything he saw, he stood where he was and gave himself a VSE.
    “Get going,” Lytton repeated evenly.
    “Don’t touch me.” When his VSE was done, Covenant turned and stalked grayly out of the nightclub.
    Out in the cool April night, he breathed deeply, steadying himself. The sheriff and his deputy herded him toward a squad car. Its red warning lights flashed balefully. When he was locked into the back seat behind the protective steel grating, the two officers climbed into the front. While the deputy drove away in the direction of Haven Farm, the sheriff spoke through the grating.
    “Took us too long to find you, Covenant. The

    Millers reported you were trying to hitch a ride, and we figured you were going to try your tricks somewhere. Just couldn’t tell where. But it’s still my county, and you’re walking trouble. There’s no law against you-I can’t arrest you for what you’ve done. But it sure was mean. Listen, you. Taking care of this county is my business, and don’t you forget it. I don’t want to hunt around like this for you. You pull this stunt again, and I’ll throw you in the can for disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct, and everything else I can think of. You got that?”
    Shame and rage struggled in Covenant, but he could find no way to let them out.
    He wanted to yell through the grate, It isn’t catching! It’s not my fault! But his throat was too constricted; he could not release the wail. At last, he could only mumble, “Let me out.
    I’ll walk.”
    Sheriff Lytton regarded him closely, then said to the deputy, “All right. We’ll let him walk. Maybe he’ll have an accident.” Already they were