srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第10节

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together　in　front　of　him；　and　his　shoulders　hunched　like　a　strangler's…〃crushed　Lena　my　own　daughter　at　birth。〃
　　　　〃No！〃　Mhoram　affirmed　softly。　〃No。〃　He　yearned　to　put　his　arms　around　Trell；　to　console　the　Gravelingas　in　some　way。　But　he　did　not　know　how　to　untie　Trell's　distress；　he　was　unable　to　loosen　his　own　secret　dilemma。　〃Hold　Peace；　Trell；〃　he　murmured。　〃Remember　the　Oath。〃　He　could　think　of　nothing　else　to　say。
　　　　〃Peace？〃　Trell　echoed　in　ridicule　or　grief。　He　no　longer　seemed　to　see　the　High　Lord。　〃Atiaran　believed　in　Peace。　There　is　no　Peace。〃　Turning　vaguely　from　Mhoram；　he　walked　away　down　the　side　passage　from　which　he　had　e。
　　　　Mhoram　stared　after　him　down　the　passage　for　a　long　moment。　Duty　and　caution　told　him　that　he　should　have　warriors　assigned　to　watch　the　Gravelingas。　But　he　could　not　bear　to　torment　Trell　with　such　an　expression　of　distrust；　that　judgment　might　weaken　the　last　clutch　of　Trell's　self…control。　And　he；　Mhoram；　had　seen　men　and　women　rise　to　victory　from　anguish　as　bad　as　Trell's。
　　　　Yet　the　Gravelingas　had　not　looked　like　a　man　who　could　wrest　new　wholeness　out　of　the　ruins　of　his　old　life。　Mhoram　was　taking　a　grave　risk　by　not　acting　in　some　way。　As　he　started　again　toward　the　Close；　the　weight　of　his　responsibilities　bore　heavily　on　him。　He　did　not　feel　equal　to　the　multitude　of　dooms　he　carried。
　　　　The　Lords　possessed　nothing　of　their　own　with　which　to　fight　the　long　cruel　winter　that　fettered　the　Land。
　　　　He　strode　down　a　long；　torchlit　corridor；　climbed　a　spiral　stairway；　and　approached　one　of　the　Lords'　private　entrances　to　the　Close。　Outside　the　door；　he　paused　to　gauge　the　number　of　people　who　had　already　gathered　for　the　Council；　and　after　a　moment　he　heard　Lord　Amatin　ing　up　the　stair　behind　him。　He　waited　for　her。　When　she　reached　the　landing　where　he　stood；　he　saw　that　her　eyes　were　red…rimmed；　her　forlorn　mouth　aggravated　by　tension。　He　was　tempted　to　speak　to　her　now；　but　he　decided　instead　to　deal　with　her　feelings　before　the　Council。　If　he　were　ever　to　reveal　his　secret　knowledge；　he　would　first　have　to　prepare　the　ground　for　it。　With　a　quiet；　sympathetic　smile；　he　opened　the　door　for　her　and　followed　her　into　the　Close。
　　　　From　the　door；　he　and　Amatin　went　down　the　steps　to　the　Lords'　table；　which　stood　below　the　level　of　the　tiered　galleries　in　the　high；　round　council　hall。　The　hall　was　lit　by　four　huge；　lore…burning　lillianrill　torches　set　into　the　walls　above　the　galleries；　and　by　an　open　pit　of　graveling　in　the　base　of　the　Close；　below　and　within　the　wide　C　of　the　table。　Stone　chairs　for　the　Lords　and　their　special　guests　waited　around　the　outer　edge　of　the　table；　facing　in　toward　the　open　floor　and　the　graveling　pit；　and　at　the　head　of　the　table　was　the　high…backed　seat　of　the　High　Lord。
　　　　On　the　floor　of　the　Close　beside　the　graveling　pit　was　a　round　stone　table　with　a　short　silver　sword　stabbed　halfway　to　the　hilt　in　its　center。　This　was　the　krill　of　Loric；　left　where　Covenant　had　driven　it　seven　years　ago。　In　that　time；　the　Lords　had　found　no　way　to　remove　it　from　the　stone。　They　left　it　in　the　Close　so　that　anyone　who　wished　to　study　the　krill　could　do　so　freely。　But　nothing　had　changed　except　the　clear　white　gem　around　which　the　guards　and　haft　of　the　two…edged　blade　were　forged。
　　　　When　Mhoram　and　Callindrill　had　returned　from　their　plunge　into　Garroting　Deep；　they　had　found　the　gem　lightless；　dead。　The　hot　fire　which　Covenant　had　set　within　it　had　gone　out。
　　　　It　stood　near　the　graveling　like　an　icon　of　the　Lords'　futility；　but　Mhoram　kept　his　thoughts　away　from　it。　He　did　not　need　to　look　around　to　learn　who　was　already　present　in　the　Close；　the　perfect　acoustics　of　the　hall　carried　every　low　noise　and　utterance　to　his　ears。　In　the　first　row　of　the　gallery；　above　and　behind　the　seats　of　the　Lords；　sat　warriors；　Hafts　of　the　Warward；　occupying　the　former　places　of　the　Bloodguard。　The　two　Hearthralls；　Tohrm　the　Gravelingas　and　Borillar　the　Hirebrand；　sat　with　Warmark　Quaan　in　their　formal　positions　high　in　the　gallery　behind　the　High　Lord's　chair。　Several　Lorewardens　had　taken　seats　in　tiers　above　the　table；　the　weary　dust　of　their　flight　from　Revelwood　was　still　on　them；　but　they　were　too　taut　with　the　news　of　the　tree's　fall　to　miss　this　Council。　And　with　them　were　virtually　all　the　lillianrill　of　Lord's　Keep。　The　burning　of　a　tree　struck　at　the　very　hearts　of　the　Hirebrands；　and　they　watched　the　High　Lord's　approach　with　pain　in　their　eyes。
　　　　Mhoram　reached　his　seat　but　did　not　sit　down　immediately。　As　Lord　Amatin　moved　to　her　place　on　the　right　side　of　the　table；　he　felt　a　sharp　pang　at　sight　of　the　stone　seat　which　Callindrill　should　have　filled。　And　he　could　sense　the　remembered　presence　of　the　others　who　had　occupied　the　High　Lord's　chair：　Variol；　Prothall；　Osondrea；　and　Elena　among　the　new　Lords；　Kevin；　Loric；　and　Damelon　of　the　Old。　Their　individual　greatness　and　courage　humbled　him；　made　him　realize　how　small　a　figure　he　was　to　bear　such　losses　and　duties。　He　stood　on　the　brink　of　the　Land's　doom　without　Variol's　foresight　or　Prothall's　ascetic　strength　or　Osondrea's　dour　intransigence　or　Elena's　fire；　and　he　had　not　power　enough　to　match　the　frailest　Lord　in　the　weakest　Council　led　by　Kevin　or　Loric　or　Damelon　or　Berek　Heartthew　the　Lord…Fatherer。　Yet　none　of　the　remaining　Lords　could　take　his　place。　Amatin　lacked　physical　toughness。　Trevor　did　not　believe　in　his　own　stature；　he　felt　that　he　was　not　the　equal　of　his　fellow　Lords。　And　Loerya　was　torn　between　her　love　for　the　Land　and　her　desire　to　protect　her　own　family。　Mhoram　knew　that　more　than　once　she　had　almost　asked　him　to　release　her　from　her　Lordship；　so　that　she　could　flee　with　her　daughters　into　the　relative　sanctuary　of　the　Westron　Mountains。
　　　　With　Callindrill　gone；　High　Lord　Mhoram　was　more　alone　than　he　had　ever　been　before。
　　　　He　had　to　force　himself　to　pull　out　his　chair　and　sit　down。
　　　　He　waited　for　Trevor　and　Loerya　in　a　private　reverie；　gathering　his　fortitude。　Finally；　the　main　doors　of　the　Close　opened　opposite　him；　and　the　two　Lords　started　down　the　broad　steps；　acpanying　Eldest　Corimini。　He　moved　with　slow　difficulty；　as　if　the　end　of　Revelwood　had　exhausted　the　last　elasticity　of　his　thews；　leaving　him　at　the　mercy　of　his　age；　and　Trevor　and　Loerya　supported　him　gently　on　either　side。　They　helped　him　to　a　chair　down　the　table　from　Amatin；　then　walked　around　and　took　their　places　on　the　High　Lord's　left。
　　　　When　they　were　seated；　the　Close　grew　quiet。　All　talking　stopped；　and　after　a　brief　shuffle　of　feet　and　positions；　silence　filled　the　warm　yellow　light　of　the　torches　and　graveling。　Mhoram　could　hear　nothing　but　the　low　susurration　of　hushed　breathing。　Slowly；　he　looked　around　the　table　and　the　galleries。　Every　eye　in　the　chamber　was　on　him。　Stiffening　himself；　he　placed　his　staff　flat　on　the　table　before　him；　and　stood　up。
　　　　〃Friends　and　servants　of　the　Land；〃　he　said　steadily；　〃be　wele　to　the　Council　of　Lords。　I　am　Mhoram　son　of　Variol；　High　Lord　by　the　choice　of　the　Council。　There　are　dire　matters　upon　us；　and　we　must　take　action　against　them。　But　first　we　must　wele　the　Lorewardens　of　the　Loresraat。　Corimini；　Eldest　of　the　Loresraat；　be　at　home　in　Lord's　Keep　with　all　your　people。　You　have　brought　the　great　school　of　lore　safely　to　Revelstone。　How　may　we　honor　you？〃
　　　　Corimini　rose　infirmly　to　his　feet　as　if　to　meet　the　High　Lord's　salutation；　but　the　diffusion　of　his　gaze　showed　that　his　mind　was　elsewhere。　〃Faer；〃　he　began　in　a　tremulous　old　voice；　〃Faer　begs　me　to　apologize　for　the　absence　of　Callindrill　her　husband。　He　will　be　unable　to　attend　the　Council。〃　Dislocation　gathered　in　his　tone　while　he　spoke；　and　his　voice　trailed　off　as　if　he　had　forgotten　what　he　meant　to　say。　Slowly；　his　thoughts　slipped　out　of　contact　with　his　situation。　As　he　stood　before　the　Council；　the　power　of　the　lore　which　had　preserved　him　for　so　long　from　the　effects　of　age　seemed　to　fail　within　him。　After　a　moment；　he　sat　down；　murmuring　aimlessly　to　himself；　wandering　in　his　mind　like　a　man　striving　to　prehend　a　language　he　no　longer　knew。　At　last　he　found　the　word；　〃Revelwood。〃　He　repeated　it　several　times；　searching　to　understand　it。　Softly　he　began　to　weep。
　　　　Tears　burned　the　backs　of　Mhoram's　eyes。　With　a　quick　gesture　he　sent　two　of　the　Lorewardens　to　Corimini's　aid。　They　lifted　him　from　his　seat　and　bore　him　between　them　up　the　stairs　toward　the　high　wooden　doors。　〃Take　him　to　the　Healers；〃　Mhoram　said　thickly。　〃Find　Peace　for　him。　He　has　served　the　Land　with　courage　and　devotion　and　wisdom　for　more　years　than　any　other　now　living。〃
　　　　The　Lords　came　to　their　feet；　and　at　once　all　the　people　in　the　Close　stood。　Together；　they　touched　their　right　hands　to　their　hearts；　then　extended　the　palms　toward　Corimini　in　a　traditional　salute。　〃Hail；　Corimini；〃　they　said；　〃Eldest　of　the　Loresraat。　Be　at　Peace。〃
　　　　The　two　Lorewardens　took　Corimini　from　the　Close；　and　the　doors　shut　behind　them。　Sadly；　the　people　in　the　galleries　reseated　themselves。　The　Lords　looked　toward　Mhoram　with　mourning　in　their　eyes；　and　Loerya　said　stiffly；　〃This　is　an　ill　omen。〃
　　　　Mhoram　gripped　himself　with　a　stern　hand。　〃All　omens　are　ill　in　these　times。　Despit