srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第9节

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　　　　〃Lord　Callindrill　called　the　rivers…earlier。　Satansfist　turned　the　flood　aside。　He…the　Illearth　Stone…〃　A　new　note　of　horror　came　into　the　weak　voice　which　shuddered　between　Amatin's　lips。　〃He　resurrected　the　old　death　of　Kurash　Plenethor。　Blasted　rock　and　blood　and　bones　and　burned　earth　rose　up　through　the　ground。　With　old　waste　he　walled　Revelwood；　and　turned　the　water。　How　is　it　possible？　Is　Time　broken？　With　one　stroke　of　the　Stone　centuries　of　healing　are　rent　asunder。〃
　　　　Suddenly；　Amatin　stiffened　in　one　shrill　cry：　〃Callindrill！〃
　　　　The　next　instant；　the　lomillialor　fell　silent；　the　power　dropped　from　it　like　a　stricken　bird。　Lord　Amatin　staggered；　almost　fell　to　her　knees。　Mhoram　caught　her　forearm　to　help　her　keep　her　feet。
　　　　In　the　abrupt　silence；　the　courtyard　felt　as　dead　and　cold　as　a　tomb。　The　atmosphere　flocked　with　echoes　of　anguish　like　the　noiseless　beating　of　black　wings。　Mhoram's　knuckles　where　he　gripped　his　staff　were　strained　and　white。
　　　　Then　Amatin　shuddered；　took　hold　of　herself。　The　High　Lord　stepped　back　and　made　himself　aware　of　the　other　people　in　the　court。　He　could　feel　their　presences。　Quaan　stood　a　few　paces　behind　him；　and　several　sentries　were　scattered　around　the　rim　of　the　shining　floor。　A　handful　of　spectators　watched　fearfully　from　the　railed　coigns　in　the　walls　of　the　cavity。　But　the　High　Lord　turned　from　them　all　to　his　left；　where　Corimini　the　Eldest　of　the　Loresraat　stood　with　Faer　Callindrill…mate。　The　Eldest　held　each　of　Faer's　shoulders　with　an　old　wrinkled　hand。　Tears　glistened　under　his　heavy　eyelids；　and　his　long　white　beard　quivered　in　grief。　But　Faer's　bluff　face　was　as　blank　and　pale　as　bone　sculpture。
　　　　〃Is　he　dead；　then；　High　Lord？〃　she　asked　softly。
　　　　〃Death　reaps　the　beauty　of　the　world；〃　replied　Mhoram。
　　　　〃He　burned。〃
　　　　〃Satansfist　is　a　Raver。　He　hates　all　green　growing　things。　I　was　a　fool　to　hope　that　Revelwood　might　be　spared。〃
　　　　〃Burned；〃　she　repeated。
　　　　〃Yes；　Faer。〃　He　could　find　no　words　adequate　for　the　ache　in　his　heart。　〃He　fought　to　preserve　Revelwood。〃
　　　　〃High　Lord；　there　was　doubt　in　him…here。〃　She　pointed　to　her　bosom。　〃He　forgot　himself。〃
　　　　Mhoram　heard　the　truth　in　her　voice。　But　he　could　not　let　her　bare　statement　pass。　〃Perhaps。　He　did　not　forget　the　Land。〃
　　　　With　a　low　moan；　Lord　Amatin　turned　and　hastened　painfully　back　to　her　chambers。　But　Faer　paid　no　attention　to　her。　Without　meeting　Mhoram's　intent　gaze；　she　asked；　〃Is　it　possible？〃
　　　　He　had　no　answer　for　that　question。　Instead；　he　replied　as　if　she　had　repeated　Asuraka's　cry。　〃The　Law　of　Death　had　been　broken。　Who　can　say　what　is　possible　now？〃
　　　　〃Revelwood；〃　groaned　Corimini。　His　voice　trembled　with　age　and　sorrow。　〃He　died　bravely。〃
　　　　〃He　forgot　himself。〃　Faer　moved　out　of　the　Eldest's　hands　as　if　she　had　no　use　for　his　consolation。　Turning　away　from　the　High　Lord；　she　walked　stiffly　back　to　her　rooms。　After　a　moment；　Corimini　followed；　blinking　uselessly　against　his　tears。
　　　　With　an　effort；　Mhoram　loosened　his　grip　on　his　staff；　flexed　his　clawed　fingers。
　　　　Firmly；　deliberately；　he　made　his　decision。
　　　　His　lips　were　tight　and　hard　as　he　faced　Quaan。　〃Summon　the　Council；〃　he　said　as　if　he　expected　the　Warmark　to　protest。　〃Invite　the　Lorewardens；　and　any　of　the　rhadhamaerl　and　lillianrill　who　desire　to　e。　We　can　no　longer　delay。〃
　　　　Quaan　did　not　mistake　Mhoram's　tone。　He　saluted　the　High　Lord　crisply；　and　at　once　began　shouting　orders　to　the　sentries。
　　　　Mhoram　did　not　wait　for　the　Warmark　to　finish。　Taking　his　staff　in　his　right　hand；　he　strode　off　the　bright　floor　and　down　the　hallway　which　separated　the　apartments　of　the　Lords　from　the　rest　of　Revelstone。　He　nodded　to　the　guards　at　the　far　end　of　the　hall；　but　did　not　stop　to　answer　their　inquiring　faces。　Everybody　he　encountered　had　felt　the　disturbance　of　Revelstone's　ambience；　and　their　eyes　thronged　with　anxiety。　But　he　ignored　them。　They　would　have　their　answers　soon　enough。　Sternly；　he　began　to　climb　up　through　the　levels　of　Lord's　Keep　toward　the　Close。
　　　　Haste　mounted　around　him　as　word　of　Asuraka's　message　spread　through　the　walls　of　the　city。　The　usual　busyness　of　life　which　pulsed　in　the　rock；　concerting　the　rhythms　of　the　Keep's　inhabitants；　gave　way　to　an　impression　of　focus；　as　if　Revelstone　itself　were　telling　the　people　what　had　happened　and　how　to　respond。　In　this　same　way；　the　mountain　rock　had　helped　to　order　the　lives　of　its　denizens　for　generations；　centuries。
　　　　Deep　in　his　aching　heart；　Mhoram　knew　that　even　this　rock　could　e　to　an　end。　In　all　the　ages　of　its　existence；　it　had　never　been　besieged。　But　Lord　Foul　was　powerful　enough　now。　He　could　tear　these　massive　walls　down；　reduce　the　Land's　last　bastion　to　rubble。　And　he　would　begin　the　attempt　soon。
　　　　This；　at　least；　Callindrill　had　understood　clearly。　The　time　had　e　for　desperate　hazards。　And　the　High　Lord　was　full　to　bursting　with　the　damage　Satansfist　had　already　done　in　his　long　march　from　Ridjeck　Thome。　He　had　chosen　his　own　risk。
　　　　He　hoped　to　turn　the　breaking　of　the　Law　of　Death　to　the　Land's　advantage。
　　　　He　found　himself　hurrying；　though　he　knew　he　would　have　to　wait　when　he　reached　the　Close。　The　pressure　of　decision　impelled　him。　Yet　when　Trell　hailed　him　from　a　side　passage；　he　stopped　at　once；　and　turned　to　meet　the　approach　of　the　big　Gravelingas。　Trell　Atiaran…mate　had　claims　which　Mhoram　could　neither　deny　nor　evade。
　　　　Trell　was　traditionally　dressed　as　a　Stonedownor…over　his　light　brown　pants　he　wore　a　short　tunic　with　his　family　symbol；　a　white　leaf　pattern；　woven　into　its　shoulders…and　he　had　the　broad；　muscular　frame　which　characterized　the　people　of　the　rock　villages；　but　the　Stonedownors　were　usually　short；　and　Trell　was　tall。　He　created　an　impression　of　immense　physical　strength；　which　was　only　augmented　by　his　great　skill　in　the　rhadhamaerl　lore。
　　　　He　approached　the　High　Lord　with　his　head　lowered　in　an　attitude　of　shyness；　but　Mhoram　knew　that　it　was　not　embarrassment　which　caused　Trell　to　avoid　meeting　the　eyes　of　other　people。　Another　explanation　glowered　behind　the　thick　intensity　of　Trell's　red　and　gray　beard　and　the　graveling　ruddiness　of　his　features。　Involuntarily；　Mhoram　shivered　as　if　the　wind　of　winter　had　found　its　way　through　Revelstone　to　his　heart。
　　　　Like　the　other　rhadhamaerl；　Trell　had　given　his　whole　life　to　the　service　of　stone。　But　he　had　lost　his　wife　and　daughter　and　granddaughter　because　of　Thomas　Covenant。　The　simple　sight　of　Covenant　seven　years　ago　had　driven　him　to　damage　the　rock　of　the　Keep；　he　had　gouged　his　fingers　into　the　granite　as　if　it　were　nothing　more　than　stiff　clay。
　　　　He　avoided　other　people's　eyes　in　an　effort　to　conceal　the　conflicting　hate　and　hurt　which　knotted　themselves　within　him。
　　　　He　usually　kept　to　himself；　immersing　himself　in　the　stone　labors　of　the　Keep。　But　now　he　accosted　the　High　Lord　with　an　air　of　grim　purpose。
　　　　He　said；　〃You　go　to　the　Close；　High　Lord。〃　Despite　the　severity　of　his　mien；　his　voice　held　an　odd　note　of　supplication。
　　　　〃Yes；〃　Mhoram　answered。
　　　　〃Why？〃
　　　　'　'Trell　Atiaran…mate；　you　know　why。　You　are　not　deaf　to　the　Land's　need。〃
　　　　Flatly；　Trell　said；　〃Do　not。〃
　　　　Mhoram　shook　his　head　gently。　〃You　know　that　I　must　make　this　attempt。〃
　　　　Trell　pushed　this　statement　aside　with　a　jerk　of　his　shoulders；　and　repeated；　〃Do　not。〃
　　　　'　Trell；　I　am　High　Lord　of　the　Council　of　Revelstone。　I　must　do　what　I　can。〃
　　　　〃You　will　denounce…you　will　denounce　the　fall　of　Elena　my　daughter's　daughter。〃
　　　　〃Denounce？〃　Trell's　assertion　surprised　the　High　Lord。　He　cocked　an　eyebrow　and　waited　for　the　Gravelingas　to　explain。
　　　　〃Yes！〃　Trell　averred。　His　voice　sounded　awkward；　as　if　in　the　long；　low；　subterranean　songs　of　his　rhadhamaerl　service　he　had　lost　his　familiarity　with　human　speech；　and　he　looked　as　if　he　were　resisting　an　impulse　to　shout。　''Atiaran　my　wife　said…she　said　that　it　is　the　responsibility　of　the　living　to　justify　the　sacrifices　of　the　dead。　Otherwise　their　deaths　have　no　meaning。　You　will　undo　the　meaning　Elena　earned。　You　must　not…　approve　her　death。〃
　　　　Mhoram　heard　the　truth　in　Trell's　words。　His　decision　might　well　imply　an　affirmation；　or　at　least　an　acceptance；　of　Elena's　fall　under　Melenkurion　Skyweir；　and　that　would　be　bitter　bread　for　Trell's　distress　to　swallow。　Perhaps　this　explained　the　inchoate　fear　which　he　sensed　behind　Trell's　speech。　But　Mhoram's　duty　to　the　Land　bound　him　straitly。　So　that　Trell　could　not　mistake　him；　he　said；　〃I　must　make　this　attempt。''　Then　he　added　gently；　〃High　Lord　Elena　broke　the　Law　of　Death。　In　what　way　can　I　approve？〃
　　　　Trell's　gaze　moved　around　the　walls；　avoiding　the　face　of　the　High　Lord；　and　his　heavy　hands　clutched　his　hips　as　if　to　prevent　themselves　from　striking　out…as　if　he　did　not　trust　what　his　hands　might　do　if　he　failed　to　hold　them　down。　〃Do　you　love　the　Land？〃　he　said　in　a　thick　voice。　〃You　will　destroy　it。〃
　　　　Then　he　met　Mhoram's　gaze；　and　his　sore　eyes　gleamed　with　moist　fire。　〃It　would　have　been　better　if　I　had〃…abruptly；　his　hands　tore　loose　from　his　sides；　slapped　together　in　front　of　him；　and　his　shoulders　hunched　like　a　strangler's…〃crushed　Lena　my