srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第13章

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t　is　accessible　to　us。〃
　　　　〃And　we　must　make　the　attempt；〃　said　Mhoram。　〃For　good　or　ill；　the　Unbeliever　is　inextricably　linked　to　the　Land's　doom。　If　he　is　not　here；　he　cannot　defend　the　Land。〃
　　　　〃Or　destroy　it！〃　Quaan　rasped。
　　　　Before　Mhoram　could　respond；　Hearthrall　Borillar　was　on　his　feet。　He　said　in　a　rush；　〃The　Unbeliever　will　save　the　Land。〃
　　　　Quaan　growled；　〃This　is　odd　confidence；　Hearthrall。〃
　　　　〃He　will　save；〃　Borillar　said　as　if　he　were　surprised　at　his　own　temerity。　Seven　years　ago；　when　he　had　met　Covenant；　he　had　been　the　youngest　Hirebrand　ever　to　take　the　office　of　Hearthrall。　He　had　been　acutely　aware　of　his　inexperience；　and　he　was　still　deferential…a　fact　which　amused　his　friend　and　fellow　Hearthrall；　Tohrm。　〃When　I　met　the　Unbeliever；　I　was　young　and　timid…afraid。〃　Tohrm　grinned　impishly　at　the　implication　that　Borillar　was　no　longer　young　and　timid。　〃Ur…Lord　Covenant　spoke　kindly　to　me。''
　　　　He　sat　down　again；　blushing　in　embarrassment。　But　no　one　except　Tohrm　smiled；　and　Tohrm's　smile　was　always　irrepressible。　It　expressed　only　amused　fondness；　not　mockery。　The　pitch　of　Borillar's　conviction　seemed　to　reproach　the　doubts　in　the　Close。　When　Lord　Loerya　spoke　again；　her　tone　had　changed。　With　a　searching　look　at　the　young　Hearthrall；　she　said；　〃How　shall　we　make　this　attempt？〃
　　　　Mhoram　gravely　nodded　his　thanks　to　Borillar；　then　turned　back　to　the　Lords。　〃I　will　essay　the　summoning。　If　my　strength　fails；　aid　me。〃　The　Lords　nodded　mutely。　With　a　final　look　around　the　Close；　he　sat　down；　bowed　his　head；　and　opened　his　mind　to　the　melding　of　the　Lords。
　　　　He　did　so；　knowing　that　he　would　have　to　hold　back　part　of　himself；　prevent　Trevor　and　Loerya　and　Amatin　from　seeing　into　his　secret。　He　was　taking　a　great　risk。　He　needed　the　consolation；　the　sharing　of　strength　and　support；　which　a　plete　mind　melding　could　give；　yet　any　private　weakness　might　expose　the　knowledge　he　withheld。　And　in　the　melding　his　fellow　Lords　could　see　that　he　did　withhold　something。　Therefore　it　was　an　expensive　rite。　Each　meld　drained　him　because　he　could　only　protect　his　secret　by　giving　fortitude　rather　than　receiving　it。　But　he　believed　in　the　meld。　Of　all　the　lore　of　the　new　Lords；　only　this　belonged　solely　to　them；　the　rest　had　e　to　them　through　the　Wards　of　Kevin　Landwaster。　And　when　it　was　practiced　purely；　melding　brought　the　health　and　heart　of　any　Lord　to　the　aid　of　all　the　others。
　　　　As　long　as　the　High　Lord　possessed　any　pulse　of　life　or　thew　of　strength；　he　could　not　refuse　to　share　them。
　　　　At　last；　the　contact　was　broken。　For　a　moment；　Mhoram　felt　that　he　was　hardly　strong　enough　to　stand；　the　needs　of　the　other　Lords；　and　their　concern　for　him；　remained　on　his　shoulders　like　an　unnatural　burden。　But　he　understood　himself　well　enough　to　know　that　in　some　ways　he　did　not　have　the　ability　to　surrender。　Instead；　he　had　an　instinct　for　absolute　exertions　which　frightened　him　whenever　he　thought　of　the　Ritual　of　Desecration。　After　a　momentary　rest；　he　rose　to　his　feet　and　took　up　his　staff。　Bearing　it　like　a　standard；　he　walked　around　the　table　to　the　stairs　and　started　down　toward　the　open　floor　around　the　graveling　pit。
　　　　As　Mhoram　reached　the　floor；　Tohrm　came　down　out　of　the　gallery　to　join　him。　The　Gravelingas's　eyes　were　bright　with　humor；　and　he　grinned　as　he　said；　〃You　will　need　far　sight　to　behold　the　Unbeliever。〃　Then　he　winked　as　if　this　were　a　jest。　〃The　gulf　between　worlds　is　dark；　and　darkness　withers　the　heart。　I　will　provide　more　light。〃
　　　　The　High　Lord　smiled　his　thanks；　and　the　Hearthrall　stepped　briskly　to　one　side　of　the　graveling　pit。　He　bent　toward　the　fire…stones；　and　at　once　seemed　to　forget　the　other　people　in　the　Close。　Without　another　look　at　his　audience；　he　softly　began　to　sing。
　　　　In　a　low　rocky　language　known　only　to　those　who　shared　the　rhadhamaerl　lore；　he　hymned　an　invocation　to　the　fire…stones；　encouraging　them；　stoking　them；　calling　to　life　their　latent　power。　And　the　red…gold　glow　of　the　graveling　reflected　like　a　response　from　his　face。　After　a　moment；　Mhoram　could　see　the　brightness　growing。　The　reddish　hue　faded　from　the　gold；　the　gold　turned　purer；　whiter；　hotter；　and　the　new…earth　aroma　of　the　graveling　rose　up　like　incense　in　the　Close。
　　　　In　silence；　the　three　Lords　stood；　and　the　rest　of　the　people　joined　them　in　a　mute　expression　of　respect　for　the　rhadhamaerl　and　the　Earthpower。　Before　them；　the　radiance　of　the　pit　mounted　until　Tohrm　himself　was　pale　in　the　light。
　　　　With　a　slow；　stately　movement；　High　Lord　Mhoram　lifted　his　staff；　held　it　in　both　hands　level　with　his　forehead。
　　　　The　summoning　song　of　the　Unbeliever　began　to　run　in　his　mind　as　he　focused　his　thoughts　on　the　power　of　his　staff。　One　by　one；　he　eliminated　the　people　in　the　Close；　and　then　the　Close　itself；　from　his　awareness。　He　poured　himself　into　the　straight；　smooth　wood　of　his　staff　until　he　was　conscious　of　nothing　but　the　song　and　the　light…and　the　illimitable　implications　of　the　Earthpower　beating　like　ichor　in　the　immense　mountain…stone　around　him。　Then　he　gathered　as　many　strands　of　the　pulse　as　he　could　hold　together　in　the　hands　of　his　staff；　and　rode　them　outward　through　the　warp　and　weft　of　Revelstone's　existence。　And　as　he　rode；　he　sang　to　himself：
　　　　There　is　wild　magic　graven　in　every　rock；
　　　　contained　for　white　gold　to　unleash　or　control…
　　　　gold；　rare　metal；　not　born　of　the　Land；
　　　　nor　ruled；　limited；　subdued
　　　　by　the　Law　with　which　the　Land　was　created…
　　　　but　keystone　rather；　pivot；　crux
　　　　for　the　anarchy　out　of　which　Time　was　made。
　　　　The　strands　carried　him　out　through　the　malevolent　wind；　so　that　his　spirit　shivered　against　gusts　of　spite；　but　his　consciousness　passed　beyond　them　swiftly；　passed　beyond　all　air　and　wood　and　water　and　stone　until　he　seemed　to　be　spinning　through　the　quintessential　fabric　of　which　actuality　was　made。　For　an　interval　without　dimension　in　time　and　space；　he　lost　track　of　himself。　He　felt　that　he　was　floating　beyond　the　limits　of　creation。　But　the　song　and　the　light　held　him；　steadied　him。　Soon　his　thoughts　pointed　like　a　pass　to　the　lodestone　of　the　white　gold。
　　　　Then　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　Thomas　Covenant's　ring。　It　was　unmistakable；　the　Unbeliever's　presence　covered　the　chaste　circlet　like　an　aura；　bound　it；　sealed　up　its　power。　And　the　aura　itself　ached　with　anguish。
　　　　High　Lord　Mhoram　reached　toward　that　presence　and　began　to　sing：
　　　　Be　true；　Unbeliever…　Answer　the　call。　Life　is　the　Giver：　Death　ends　all。　The　promise　is　truth；　And　banes　disperse　With　promise　kept：　But　soul's　deep　curse　On　broken　faith　And　faithless　thrall；　For　doom　of　darkness　Covers　all。
　　　　Be　true；　Unbeliever…　Answer　the　call。　Be　true。
　　　　He　caught　hold　of　Covenant　with　his　song　and　started　back　toward　the　Close。
　　　　The　efficacy　of　the　song　took　much　of　the　burden　from　him；　left　him　free　to　return　swiftly　to　himself；　As　he　opened　his　eyes　to　the　dazzling　light；　he　almost　fell　to　his　knees。　Sudden　exhaustion　washed　over　him；　he　felt　severely　attenuated；　as　if　his　soul　had　been　stretched　to　cover　too　great　a　distance。　For　a　time；　he　stood　strengthless；　even　forgetting　to　sing。　But　the　other　Lords　had　taken　up　the　song　for　him；　and　in　the　place　of　his　power　their　staffs　vitalized　the　summoning。
　　　　When　his　eyes　regained　their　sight；　he　beheld　Thomas　Covenant；　Unbeliever　and　white　gold　wielder；　standing　half　substantial　in　the　light　before　him。
　　　　But　the　apparition　came　no　closer；　did　not　incarnate　itself。　Covenant　remained　on　the　verge　of　physical　presence；　he　refused　to　cross　over。　In　a　voice　that　barely　existed；　he　cried；　〃Not　now！　Let　me　go！〃
　　　　The　sight　of　the　Unbeliever's　suffering　shocked　Mhoram。　Covenant　was　starving；　he　desperately　needed　rest；　he　had　a　deep　and　seriously　untended　wound　on　his　forehead。　His　whole　body　was　bruised　and　battered　as　if　he　had　been　stoned；　and　one　side　of　his　mouth　was　caked　with　ugly　blood。　But　as　bad　as　his　physical　injuries　were；　they　paled　beside　his　psychic　distress。　Appalled　resistance　oozed　from　him　like　the　sweat　of　pain；　and　a　fierce　fire　of　will　held　him　unincarnate。　As　he　fought　the　pletion　of　his　summoning；　he　reminded　Mhoram　forcibly　of　du