The Runes of the Earth: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Book One Read Online Free PDF Page A

several months outside—or deep within—herself, striving to win free of her own weakness and the legacy of her parents in order to preserve the beauty of a world which had never been meant for corruption.
    Now Roger’s words seemed to suggest that she would have to face it all again.
    No. Shuddering, she came back to herself. It was impossible. She was flinching at shadows, echoes. Roger’s father was dead. There would be no second summons for her. The Land was Thomas Covenant’s doom, not hers. He had given his life for it, as he had for Joan, and so its enemy, the dark being known variously as a-Jeroth, the Grey Slayer, and Lord Foul the Despiser, had been defeated.
    Trusting in that, Linden set aside her alarm and faced Covenant’s son.
    Roger’s implied threat she ignored. Instead she asked, “What do you mean, you have the ‘resources’ to take her place?”
    â€œIt’s simple,” Roger replied. He seemed to misunderstand her without being aware of it. “I’m twenty-one now. I’m of age. Yesterday I inherited my father’s legacy.
    â€œOf course,” he explained as if Linden might have forgotten, “he left everything to my mother. Haven Farm. His royalties. But she was declared incompetent when she was committed here. Ms. Roman—you know her, my father’s lawyer—has been trustee of the estate. But now it’s all mine.” His smile hinted at self-satisfaction. “Once I’ve persuaded you to release her, she and I will live on Haven Farm.
    â€œShe’ll like that. She and my father were happy there.”
    Linden swallowed a groan. Thomas and Joan Covenant had lived on Haven Farm until his leprosy had been diagnosed. Then she had left him, abandoned him; divorced him to protect their son from his illness. No doubt she had believed that she was doing the right thing. Nevertheless the knowledge of her own frailty—the awareness that she had broken her vows when her husband had needed her most—had given the Despiser a foothold in her soul. Her shame was fertile soil for the seeds of despair and madness.
    And when she had been deprived of every conscious impulse except the desire to taste her ex-husband’s blood, Covenant had cared for her on Haven Farm until the end. The idea that Joan would “like” living there again nearly brought tears to Linden’s eyes.
    And Roger had not answered her real question.
    â€œThat isn’t what I meant,” she insisted thickly. “You said she told you to take her place if she failed. Now you have the resources do that.”
    â€œDid I?” His smile remained expressionless. “You must have misheard me. Now I can take your place, Dr. Avery. I have enough money to care for her. We have a home. I can afford all the help I need.
    â€œShe isn’t the only one who failed.”
    Linden frowned to conceal a wince. She herself had failed Joan: she knew that. She failed all her patients. But she also knew that her failure was beside the point. It did nothing to diminish the value or the necessity of her chosen work.
    And she was sure that she had not “misheard” Roger.
    Abruptly she decided not to waste any more time questioning him. For all practical purposes, he was impervious to inquiry. And he had nothing to say that might sway her.
    Surely he would leave when he had seen his mother?
    Without challenging his falseness, she drew him forward again, toward Joan’s room.
    Along the way, she explained, “This is where we keep our more disturbed patients. They aren’t necessarily more damaged or in more pain than the people downstairs. But they manifest violent symptoms of one form or another. We’ve had to keep your mother under restraint for the past year. Before that—”
    Linden temporarily spared herself more detail by pushing open Joan’s door with her shoulder and leading Roger into his mother’s