Tohrm.
“Welcome and true,” said Tohrm's companion carefully, as if he were afraid he would make a mistake. “We are the Hearthralls of Lord's Keep. Please accept welcome and comfort.”
As Covenant's eyes adjusted, he considered the two men. Tohrm's companion wore a grey-green Woodhelvennin cloak, and had a small wreath in his hair the mark of a Hirebrand. In his hands he carried several smooth wooden rods for torches. Both the Hearthralls were clean-shaven, but the Hirebrand was taller and slimmer than his partner. Tohrm had the stocky, muscular frame of a Stonedownor, and he wore a loam-coloured tunic with soft trousers. His companion's cloak was bordered in Lords' blue; he had blue epaulets woven into the shoulders of his tunic. Cupped in each of his hands was a small, covered, stone bowl.
Covenant scrutinized Tohrm's face. The Hearthrall's nimble eyes and swift smile were soberer than Covenant remembered them, but still essentially unchanged. Like Mhoram, he did not show enough years to account for the full forty.
“I am Borillar,” Tohrm's companion recited, “Hirebrand of the
But as Borillar spoke, a look of concern touched Tohrm's face, and he said, “Ur-Lord, are you well?”
“Well?” Covenant murmured vaguely.
“There is a storm on your brow, and it gives you ` pain. Shall I call a Healer?”
“What?”
“Ur-Lord Covenant, I am in your debt. I am told that at the hazard of your life you rescued my old friend Birinair from beyond the forbidding fire under Mount Thunder. That was bravely done-though it came too late to save his life. Do not hesitate to ask of me. For Birinair's sake, I will do all in my power for you.”
Covenant shook his head. He knew he should correct Tohrm, tell him that he had braved that fire in an effort to immolate himself, not to save Birinair. But he lacked the courage. Dumbly, he stepped aside and let the Hearthralls into his rooms.
Borillar immediately set about lighting his torches; he moved studiously to the wall sockets as if he were trying to create a good, grave impression. Covenant watched him for a moment, and Tohrm said with a covered smile, “Good Borillar is in awe of you, ur-Lord. He has heard the legends of the Unbeliever from his cradle. And he has not been Hearthrall long. His former master in the
“He's young,” Covenant said dully. Then he turned to Tohrm, forced himself to ask the question which most concerned him. “But you-you're too young. You should be older. Forty years.”
“Ur-Lord, I have seen fifty-nine summers. Forty-one have passed since you came to Revelstone with the Giant, Saltheart Foamfollower.”
“But you're not old enough. You don't look more than forty now.”
“Ah,” said Tohrm, grinning broadly, “the service of our lore, and of Revelstone, keeps us young. Without us, these brave Giant-wrought halls would be dark, and in winter-to speak truly-they would be cold. Who could grow old on the joy of such work?”
Happily, he moved off, set one of his pots on the table in the sitting room, and another in the bedroom by the bed. When he uncovered the pots, the warm glow of the graveling joined the fight of the torches, and gave the illumination in the suite a richer and somehow kinder cast.
Tohrm breathed the graveling's aroma of newly broken earth with a glad smile. He finished while his companion was lighting the last of his torches in the bedroom. Before Borillar could return to the sitting room, the older Hearthrall stepped close to Covenant and whispered, “Ur-Lord, say a word to good Borillar. He will cherish it.”
A moment later, Borillar walked across the room to stand stiffly by the door. He looked like a resolute acolyte, determined not to fail a high duty. Finally his young intentness, and Tohrm's appeal, moved Covenant to say, awkwardly, “Thank you, Hirebrand.”
At once, pleasure transformed Borillar's face. He tried to maintain his gravity, to control his grin, but the man of legends, Unbeliever and Ringthane, had spoken to him, and he blurted out, 'Be welcome, ur-Lord Covenant. You will save the Land.
Tohrm cocked an amused eyebrow at his fellow Hearthrall, gave Covenant a gay, grateful bow, and ushered the Hirebrand from the room. As they departed, Tohrm started to close the door, then stopped, nodded to someone in the hall, and went away leaving the door open.
Bannor stepped into the room. He met Covenant's gaze with eyes that never slept-that only rarely blinked- and said, “The High Lord would speak with you now.”
“Oh, hell,” Covenant groaned. He looked back with something like regret at his balcony and the night beyond. Then he went with the Bloodguard.
Walking down the hall, he gave himself a quick VSE. It was a pointless exercise, but he needed the habit of it, if for no other reason than to remind himself of who he was, what the central fact of his life was. He did it deliberately, as a matter of conscious choice. But it did not hold his attention. As he moved, Revelstone exerted its old influence over him again.
The high, intricate ways of the Keep had a strange power of suasion, an ability to carry conviction. They had been delved into the mountain promontory by Saltheart Foamfollower's laughing, story-loving ancestors; and like the Giants they had an air of bluff and inviolable strength. Now Bannor was taking Covenant deeper down into Revelstone than he had ever been before. With his awakening perceptions, he could feel the massive gut-rock standing over him; it was as if he were in palpable contact with absolute weight itself. And on a pitch of hearing that was not quite audible, or not quite hearing, he could sense the groups of people who slept or worked in places beyond the walls from him. Almost he seemed to hear the great Keep breathe. And yet all those myriad, uncountable tons of stone were not fearsome. Revelstone gave him an impression of unimpeachable security; the mountain refused to let him fear that it would fall.
Then he and Bannor reached a dim hall sentried by two Bloodguard standing with characteristic relaxed alacrity on,either side of the entrance. There were no torches or other lights in the hall, but a strong glow illuminated it from its far end. With a nod to his comrades, Bannor led Covenant inward.
At the end of the hall, they entered a wide, round courtyard under a high cavern, with a stone floor as smooth as if it had been meticulously polished for ages. The bright, pale-yellow light came from this floor; the stone shone as if a piece of the sun had gone into its making.
The courtyard held no other lights. But though it was not blinding at the level of the floor, the glow cast out all darkness. Covenant could survey the cave clearly from bottom to top. At intervals up the walls were railed coigns with doors behind them which provided access to the open space above the court.
Bannor paused for a moment to allow Covenant to look around. Then he walked barefoot out onto the shining floor. Tentatively, Covenant followed, fearing that his feet would be burned. But he felt nothing through his boots except a quiet resonance of power. It set up a tingling vibration in his nerves.
Only after he became accustomed to the touch of the floor did he notice that there were doors widely spaced around the courtyard. He counted fifteen. Bloodguard sentries stood at nine of them, and several feet into the shining floor from each of these nine was a wooden tripod. Three of these tripods held Lords' staffs-and one of the staffs was the Staff of Law. It was distinguished from the smooth wood of the other staffs by its greater thickness, and by the complex runes carved into it between its iron heels.
Bannor took Covenant to the door behind the Staff. The Bloodguard there stepped forward to meet them, greeted Bannor with a nod.
Bannor said, “I have brought ur-Lord Covenant to the High Lord.”
“She awaits him.” Then the sentry levelled the impassive threat of his gaze at Covenant. “We are the Bloodguard. The care of the Lords is in our hands. I am Morin, First Mark of the Bloodguard since the passing of Tuvor. The High Lord will speak with you alone. Think no harm against her, Unbeliever. We will not permit it.” Without waiting for an answer, Morin, stepped aside to let him approach the door.
Covenant was about to ask what harm he could possibly do the High Lord, but Bannor forestalled him “In this place,” the Bloodguard explained, “the Lords set aside their burdens. Their staffs they leave here, and within these
