summarized it. When he came to understand the peril of the Land-when he began to search for a way to serve what he saw-she was the one who breathed life into his ideas. She recognized the potential value of his tactical skill, put faith in it; she gave his voice the power of command. Because of her, he was now giving orders of great risk, and leading the Warward in a cause for which he would not be ashamed to die.
Yet Covenant appeared insensitive to her, immune to her. He wore an aura of weary bitterness. His beard darkened his whole face, as if to assert that he had not one jot or tittle of belief to his name. He looked like an Unbeliever, an infidel. And his presence seemed to demean the High Lord, sully her Landlike beauty.
Various sour thoughts crossed Troy's mind, but one was uppermost. There was still something he had to say to Covenant-not because Covenant would or could profit from it, but because he, Troy, wanted to leave no doubt in Covenant's mind.
The Warmark waited until Elena had turned away to speak with Mhoram. Then he pulled Mehryl up to Covenant's side. Without preamble, he said bluntly, “There's something I've got to tell you before we leave. I want you to know that I spoke against you to the Council. I told them what you did to Trell's daughter.” Covenant cocked an eyebrow. After a pause, he said, “And then you found out that they already knew all about it.”
“Yes.” For an instant, he wondered how Covenant had known this. Then he went on: “So I demanded to know why they put up with you. I told them they can't afford to waste their time and strength rehabilitating people like you when they've got Foul to worry about.”
“What did they say?”.
“They made excuses for you. They told me that not all crimes are committed by evil people. They told me that sometimes a good man does ill because of the pain in his soul. Like Trell. And Mhoram told me that the blade of your Unbelief cuts both ways.”
“And that surprises you?”
“Yes! I told them-”
“You should have expected it. Or what did you think this Oath of Peace is about? It's a commitment to the forgiving of lepers-of Kevin and Trell. As if forgiveness weren't the one thing no leper or criminal either could ever have any use for.”
Troy stared into Covenant's grey, gaunt face. Covenant's tone confused him. The words seemed to be bitter, even cynical, but behind them was a timbre of pain, a hint of self-judgment, which he had not expected to hear. Once again, he was torn between anger at the folly of the Unbeliever's stubbornness and amazement at the extent of Covenant's injury. An obscure shame made him feel that he should apologize. But he could not force himself to go that far. Instead, he gave a relenting sigh, and said, “Mhoram also suggested that I should be patient with you. Patience. I wish I had some. But the fact is-”
“I know,” Covenant murmured. “The fact is that you're starting to find out just how terrible all this responsibility is. Let me know when you start to feel like a failure. We'll commiserate together.”
That stung Troy. “I'm not going to fail!” he snapped.
Covenant grimaced ambiguously. “Then let me know when you succeed, and I'll congratulate you.”
With an effort, Troy swallowed his anger. He was in no mood to be tolerant of Covenant, but for his own sake-and Elena's-rather than for the Unbeliever's, he said, “Covenant, I really don't understand what your trouble is. But if there's ever anything I can do for you, I'll do it.”
Covenant did not meet his gaze. Self-sarcastically, the Unbeliever muttered, “I'll probably need it.”
Troy shrugged. He leaned his weight to send Mehryl toward First Haft Amorine. But then he saw Hearthrall Tohrm striding briskly toward them from the gate of the Keep. He held Mehryl back, and f waited for the Gravelingas.
When Tohrm stepped between their mounts, he saluted them both, then turned to Covenant. The usual playfulness of his expression was cloaked in sobriety as he said, “Ur-Lord, may I speak?”
Covenant glowered at him from under his eyebrows, but did not refuse.
After a brief pause, Tohrm said, “You will soon depart from Revelstone, and it may be that yet another forty years will pass before you return again. Perhaps I will live forty years more-but the chance is uncertain. And I am still in your debt. Ur-Lord Covenant, may I give you a gift?”
Reaching into his robe, he pulled out and held up a smooth, lopsided stone no larger than his palm. Its appearance struck the Warmark. It gave the impression of being transparent, but he could not see through it; it seemed to open into unglimpsed depths like a hole in the visible fabric of Tohrm's hand and the air and the ground.
Startled, Covenant asked, “What is it?”
“It is
Covenant stared at the
“I do not offer it for any want,” said Tohrm. “You have the white gold, and need no gifts of mine. No, I offer it out of respect for my old friend Birinair, whom you released from the fire which consumed him. I offer it in gratitude for a brave deed.”
“Brave?” Covenant muttered thickly. “I didn't do it for him. Don't you know that?”
“The deed was done by your hand. No one in the Land could do such a thing. Will you accept it?”
Slowly, Covenant reached out and took the stone. As his left hand closed around it, it changed colour, took on an argent gleam from his wedding ring. Seeing this, he quickly shoved it into the pocket of his pants. Then he cleared his throat, and said, “If I ever-if I ever get a chance-I'll give it back to you.”
Tohrm grinned. “Courtesy is like a drink at a mountain stream. Ur-Lord, it is in my heart that behind the thunder of your brow you are a strangely courteous man.”
“Now you're making fun of me,” Covenant replied glumly.
The Hearthrall laughed at this as if it were a high jest. With a sprightly step, he moved away to re-enter the Keep.
Warmark Troy frowned. Everyone in Revelstone seemed to see something in Covenant that he himself could not perceive. To escape that thought, he sent Mehryl trotting from Covenant's side toward his army.
First Haft Amorine joined him a short way down the hill, and together they spent a brief time speaking with the mounted Warhafts who carried the drums. Troy counted out the pace he wanted them to set, and made sure that they knew it by heart. It was faster than the beat he had trained into them, and he did not want the army to lag. In the back of his mind, he chafed at the delay which kept the march from starting. The sun was well up now; the Warward had already lost the dawn.
He was discussing the terrain ahead with his First Haft when a murmur ran through the army. All the warriors turned toward the great Keep. The Lords Trevor and Loerya had finally arrived.
They stood atop the tower which guarded Revelstone's gates. Between them they held a bundle of blue cloth.
As the Lords took their places, the inhabitants of the Keep began to appear at the south wall. In a rush, they thronged the balconies and ramparts, filled the windows, crowded out onto the edge of the plateau. Their voices rolled expectantly.
Leaving Amorine with the army, Warmark Hile Troy rode back up the hill to take his place with the Lords while Trevor and Loerya busied themselves around the tall flagpole atop the tower. His blood suddenly stirred with eagerness, and he wanted to shout some kind of war cry, hurl some fierce defiance at the Despiser.
When Trevor and Loerya were ready, they waved to High Lord Elena. At their signal, she clapped Myrha with her heels, and galloped away from her mounted companions. A short distance away, between the wall of the Keep and the main body of the Warward, she halted. Swinging Myrha in a tight circle with the Staff of Law raised high over her head, she shouted to the warriors and the inhabitants of Revelstone, “Hail!” Her clear cry echoed off the cliff like a tantara, and was answered at once by one thrilling shout from a myriad of voices:
“Hail!!”
“My friends, people of the Land!” she called out to them, “the time has come. War is upon us, and we march to meet it. Hear me, all! I am the High Lord, holder of the Staff of Law-sworn and dedicate to the services of the Land. At my will, we march to do battle with the Grey Slayer-to pit our strength against him for the sake of the Earth. Hear me! It is I, Elena daughter of Lena, who say it: do not fear! Be of strong heart and bold hand. If it lies within our power, we will prevail!”
