The 1st Chronicles of Thomas Covenant #2: The Illearth War (8 page)

Mhoram turned away from his private visions, and cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Covenant.

“Why are you weak?”

The Lord met this with a wry smile. “Ah, my friend -I had forgotten that you ask such questions. You lead me into long speeches. I think that if I could reply to you briefly, I would not need you so.” But Covenant did not relent, and after a pause Mhoram said, “Well, I cannot refuse to answer. But come-there is food waiting. Let us eat. Then I will make what answer I can.”’

Covenant refused. Despite his hunger, he was unwilling to make any more concessions to the Land until he knew better where he stood.

Mhoram considered him for a moment, then replied in a measured tone, “1f what you say is true-if Land and Earth and all are nothing more than a dream, a threat of madness for you-then still you must eat. Hunger is hunger, and need is need. How else-7”

“No.” Covenant dismissed the idea heavily.

At that, the gold flecks in Mhoram’s eyes flared, as ‘ if they reflected the passion of the sun, and he said levelly, “Then answer that question yourself. Answer it, and save us. If we are helpless and unfriended, it is your doing. Only you can penetrate the mysteries which surround us.”

“No,” Covenant repeated. He recognized what Mhoram was saying, and refused to tolerate it. No, he responded to the heat of Mhoram’s look. That’s too much like blaming me for being a leper. It’s not my fault. “You go too far.”

“Ur-Lord,” Mhoram replied, articulating each word distinctly, “there is peril upon the Land. Distance will not restrain me.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I meant you’re taking what I said too far. I’m not the-the shaper. I’m not in control. I’m just another victim. All I know is what you tell me.

“What I want to know is why you keep trying to make me responsible. What makes you any weaker than I am? You’ve got the Staff of Law. You’ve got the rhadhamaerl and lillianrill. What makes you so bloody weak?”

The heat slowly faded from the Lord’s gaze. Folding his arms so that his staff was clasped across his chest, he smiled crookedly. “Your question grows with each asking. If I require you to ask again, I fear that nothing -less than a Giant’s tale will suffice for answer. Forgive me, my friend. I know that our peril cannot be laid on your head. Dream or no-there is no difference for us. We must serve the Land.

“Now, I must first remind you that the rhadhamaerl and lillianrill are another question, separate from the weakness of the Lords. The .stone-lore of the rhadhamaerl, and the wood-lore of the lillianrill, have been preserved from past ages by the people of Stonedown and Woodhelven. In their exile after the Ritual of Desecration, the people of the Land lost much of the richness of their lives. They were sorely bereft, and could cling only to that lore which enabled them to endure. Thus, when they returned to the Land, they brought with them those whose work in exile was to preserve and use. the lore-Gravelingases of the rhadhamaerl , and Hirebrands of the lillianrill. It is the work of Hirebrand and Gravelingas to make the lives of the villages bounteous-warm in winter and plentiful in summer, true to the song of the Land.

‘Me Lore of High Lord Kevin Landwaster is another matter. That knowledge is the concern of the Loresraat and the Lords.

“The age of the Old Lords, before Lord Foul broke into open war with Kevin son of Loric, was among the bravest and gladdest and strongest of all the times of the Land.

Kevin’s Lore was mighty with Earthpower, and pure with Landservice. Health and gaiety flowered in the Land, and the bright Earth jewel of Andelain bedizened the Land’s heart with precious woods and stones. That was a time “Yet it came to an end. Despair darkened Kevin, and in the Ritual of Desecration he destroyed that which he loved, intending to destroy the Despiser as well. But before the end, he was touched with prophecy or foresight, and found means to save much of power and beauty. He warned the Giants and the Ranyhyn, so that they might flee. He ordered the Bloodguard into safety. And he left his Lore for later ages-hid it in Seven Wards so that it would not fall into wrong or unready hands. The First Ward he gave to the Giants, and when the exile was ended they gave it to the first of the new Lords, the forebearers of this Council. In turn, these Lords conceived the Oath of Peace and carried it to all the people of the Land-an Oath to guard against Kevin’s destroying passion. And these Lords, our forebearers, swore themselves and their followers in fealty and service to the Land and the Earthpower.

“Now, my friend, you know we have found the Second Ward. The Two contain much knowledge and much power, and when they are mastered they will lead us to the Third Ward. In this way, mastery will guide us until all Kevin’s Lore is ours. But we fail we fail to penetrate. How can I say it? We translate the speech of the Old Lords. We learn the skills and rites and songs of the Lore. We study Peace, and devote ourselves to the life of the Land. And yet something lacks. In some way, we miscomprehend-we do not suffice. Only a part of the power of this knowledge answers to our touch. We can learn nothing of the other Wards-and little of the Seven Words which evoke the Earthpower.

Something-ur-Lord, it is something in us which fails. I feel it in my heart. We lack. We have not the stature of mastery.”

The Lord fell silent, musing with his head down and his cheek pressed against his staff. Covenant watched him for a time. The warmth of the sun and the cool breeze seemed to underscore Mhoram’s stern self judgment. Revelstone itself dwarfed the people who inhabited it.

Yet the Lord’s influence or example strengthened Covenant. At last, he found the courage to ask his most important question. “Then why am I here? Why did he let you summon me? Doesn’t he want the white gold?”

Without raising his head, Mhoram said, “Lord Foul is not yet ready to defeat you.

The wild magic still surpasses him. Instead, he strives to make you destroy yourself. I have seen it.”

“Seen it?” Covenant echoed softly, painfully,

“In gray visions I have caught glimpses of the Despiser’s heart. In this matter, I speak from sure comprehension. Even now, Lord Foul believes that his might is not equal to the wild magic. He is not yet ready to battle you.

“Remember that forty years ago Drool Rockworm held both Staff and Stone.

Desiring still more power desiring all power-he exerted himself against you in ways which the Despiser would not have chosen ways which were wasteful or foolish. Drool was mad. And Lord Foul had no wish to teach him wisdom.

“Matters are otherwise now. Lord Foul wastes no power, takes no risks which do not gain his ends. He seeks indirectly to make you do his bidding. If it comes to the last, and you are still unmastered, he will fight you-but only when he is sure of victory. Until that time, he will strive to bend your will so that you will choose to strike against the Land-or to withhold your hand from our defense, so that he will be free to destroy us.

“But he will make no open move against you now. He fears the wild magic. White gold is not bound by the law of Time, and he must prevent its use until he can know that it will not be used against him.”

Covenant heard the truth of Mhoram’s words. The Despiser had told him much the same thing, high on Kevin’s Watch, when he had first appeared in the Land. He shivered under the livid memory of Lord Foul’s contempt-shivered and felt cold, as if behind the clean sunlight over Revelstone blew the dank mist of Despite, dampening his soul with the smell of attar, filling his ears on a level just beyond hearing with the rumble of an avalanche. Looking into Mhoram’s eyes, he knew that he had to speak truly as well, reply as honestly as he could.

“I don’t have any choice.” Even this made him want to duck his head in shame, but he forced himself to hold the Lord’s gaze. “I’ll have to do it that way. Even if that’s not the one good answer-even if madness is not the only danger in dreams. Even if I believed in this wild magic. I haven’t got one idea how to use it.”

With an effort, Mhoram smiled gently. But the somberness of his glance overshadowed his smile. He met Covenant’s eyes unwaveringly, and when he spoke, his voice was sad. “Ah, my friend, what will you do?”

The uncritical softness of the question caught Covenant by the throat. He was not prepared for such sympathy. With difficulty, he answered, “I’ll survive.”

Mhoram nodded slowly, and a moment later he turned away, back toward the room. As he reached the door, he said, “I am late. The Council waits for me. I must go.”

But before the Lord could leave, Covenant called after him, “Why aren’t you the High Lord?” He was trying to find some way to thank Mhoram. “Don’t they appreciate you around here?”

Over his shoulder, Mhoram replied simply, “My time has not yet come.” Then he left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

FIVE: Dukkha

COVENANT turned back to the southward view from Revelstone. He had many things to think about, and no easy way to grasp them. But already his senses seemed to be swinging into consonance with the Land. He could smell the crops in the fields east of him they were nearly ready for harvesting-and see the inner ripeness of the distant trees.

He found autumn in the way the sunlight stroked his face. Such sensations accented the excitement in his veins, but they confused his efforts to deal clearly with his situation. No leper, he thought painfully, no leper should be asked to live in such a healthy world.

Yet he could not deny it; he was moved by Mhoram’s account of the dilemmas of the Lords. He was moved by the Land, and by the people who served it though they made him look so small to himself. Sourly, he left the balcony, and scanned the tray of food which had been set for him on a stone table in the center of his sitting room. The soup and

stew still steamed, reminding him how hungry he was.

No. He could not afford to make any more concessions. Hunger was like nerve-health-illusion, deception, dream. He could not A knock at the door interrupted him. For a moment, he stood still, irresolute. He did not want to talk to anyone until he had had more time to think. But at the same time he did not want to be alone. The threat of madness was always at its worst when he was alone.

Keep moving, don’t look back, he muttered bitterly to himself, echoing a formula which had served him ambiguously at best.

He went to open the door.

Standing in the outer hallway was Hile Troy.

He was dressed as Covenant had seen him before, with his sunglasses firmly in place; and again the slight smile on his lips looked vaguely mysterious and apologetic. A sharp pang of anxiety joined the tingling of Covenant’s blood. He had been trying not to think about this man.

“Come on,” Troy said. His tone was full of the power of command. “The Lords are doing something you ought to see.”

Covenant shrugged to disguise a tremor in his shoulders. Troy was an adversary-Covenant could sense it. But he had made his decision when he had opened the door.

Defiantly, he strode out into the hall.

In the hallway, he found Bannor standing watch by his door.

Hile Troy started away with a swift, confident stride, but Covenant turned toward the Bloodguard. Bannor met his look with a nod; for a moment they held each other’s eyes. Bannor’s flat, brown, unreadable face had not changed a whit, not aged a day that Covenant could discern. As he stood relaxed and ready, the Bloodguard radiated a physical solidity, a palpable competence, which intimidated or belittled Covenant; and yet Covenant sensed something extreme and sad in Bannor’s timeless impenetrability.

The Bloodguard were said to be two thousand years old. They were clenched into immutability by a strait and consuming Vow of service to the Lords, while all the people they had ever known-including the long-lived Giants, and High Lord Kevin, who had inspired them to their Vow-fell into dust.

Looking now at Bannor, with his alien countenance and his bare feet and his short brown tunic, Covenant received a sudden intuitive impression, as if a previous subliminal perception had crystallized. How many times had Bannor saved his life? For an instant, he could not remember. He felt unexpectedly sure that the Bloodguard could tell him what he needed to know, that from the extravagance of his two thousand-year perspective, bereft by the unforeseen power of his Vow of home and sleep and death, of everyone he had ever loved, he had gained the knowledge Covenant needed.

“Bannor — ” he began.

“Ur-Lord.” The Bloodguard’s voice was as passionless as time.

But Covenant did not know how to ask; he could not put his need into words which would not sound like an attack on the Bloodguard’s impossible fidelity. Instead, he murmured, “So we’re back to this.”

“The High Lord has chosen me to keep watch over you.”

“Come on,” called Troy peremptorily. “You should see this.”

Covenant disregarded him for a moment longer. To

Bannor, he said, “I hope-I hope it works out better than the last time.” Then he turned and moved down the hall after Troy. He knew that Bannor came behind him, though the Bloodguard walked without a sound.

Impatiently, Hile Troy guided Covenant inward through the levels of the Keep.

They passed briskly across high vaulted halls, along connecting corridors, and down stairs until they reached a place that Covenant recognized: the long circular passage around the sacred enclosure, where the inhabitants of Revelstone worshipped.

He followed Troy in through one of the many doors onto a balcony which hung in the great cavern. The cavity was cylindrical in shape, with seven balconies cut into the walls, a flat floor with a dais on one side, and a domed ceiling too high above the balconies to be seen clearly. The enclosure was dim; the only illumination came from four large lillianrill torches set around the dais. Bannor closed the door, shutting out the light from the outer hallway; and in the gloom Covenant clung to the railing for security against the depth of the cavity. He was several hundred feet above the dais.

The balconies were nearly empty. Clearly, whatever ceremony was about to be enacted was not intended for the general population of Revelstone.