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〃It is clear now that Lord Foul lusts to strike back at his brother； the Creator。 And at last； after ages of bootless wars carried on out of malice； out of a desire to harm the creation because he could not touch the Creator； Lord Foul has found a way to achieve his end； to destroy the arch of Time； unbind his exile； and return to his forbidden home； for spite and woe。 When the Staff of Law； lost by Kevin at the Desecration； came within his influence； he gained a chance to bridge the gap between worlds…a chance to bring white gold into the Land。
〃I tell you simply： it is Lord Foul's purpose to master the wild magic…'the anchor of the arch of life that spans and masters Time'…and with it bring Time to an end； so that he may escape his bondage and carry his lust throughout the universe。 To do this； he must defeat you； must wrest the white gold from you。 Then all the Land and all the Earth will surely fall。〃
Covenant raised his head； and Mhoram tried to anticipate his next question。 〃But how？…how does the Despiser mean to acplish this purpose？ Ah； my friend； that I do not know。 He will choose ways which resemble our own desires so closely that we will not resist。 We will not be able to distinguish between his service and our own until we are bereft of all aids but you； whether you choose to help us or no。〃
〃But why？〃 Covenant repeated。 〃Why me？〃
Again； Mhoram felt that his answer did not lie in the direction of Covenant's question。 But still he offered it； humbly； knowing that it was all he had to give his tormented visitor。
〃My friend； it is in my heart that you were chosen by the Creator。 That is our hope。 Lord Foul taught Drool to do the summoning because he desired white gold。 But Drool's hands were on the Staff； not Lord Foul's。 The Despiser could not control who was summoned。 So if you were chosen； you were chosen by the Creator。
〃Consider。 He is the Creator； the maker of the Earth。 How can he stand careless and see his making destroyed？ Yet he cannot reach his hand to help us here。 That is the law of Time。 If he breaks the arch to touch the Land with his power； Time will end； and the Despiser will be free。 So he must resist Lord Foul elsewhere。 With you； my friend。〃
〃Damnation；〃 Covenant mumbled。
〃Yet even this you must understand。 He cannot touch you here； to teach or help you； for the same reason that he cannot help us。 Nor can he touch or teach or help you in your own world。 If he does； you will not be free。 You will bee his tool； and your presence will break the arch of Time； unbinding Despite。 So you were chosen。 The Creator believes that your uncoerced volition and strength will save us in the end。 If he is wrong； he has put the weapon of his own destruction into Lord Foul's hands。〃
After a long silence；。 Covenant muttered； 〃A hell of a risk。〃
〃Ah； but he is the Creator。 How could he do otherwise？〃
〃He could burn the place down； and try again。 But I guess you don't think gods are that humble。 Or do you call it arrogance…to burn…？ Never mind。 I seem to remember that not all the Lords believe in this Creator as you do。〃
〃That is true。 But you came to me。 I answer as I can。〃
〃I know。 Don't mind me。 But tell me this。 What would you do in my place？〃
〃No；〃 said Mhoram。 At last he moved his chair to one side； so that he could see Covenant's face。 Gazing into the Unbeliever's unsteady features； he replied； 〃That I will not answer。 Who can declare？ Power is a dreadful thing。 I cannot judge you with an answer。 I have not yet judged myself。〃
The instability of Covenant's expression momentarily resolved into seeking。 But he did not speak； and after a time Mhoram decided to risk another question。 〃Thomas Covenant； why do you take this so？ Why are you so hurt？ You say that the Land is a dream a delusion…that we have no real life。 Then do not be concerned。 Accept the dream； and laugh。 When you awaken； you will be free。〃
〃No；〃 Covenant said。 〃I recognized something in what you said…I'm starting to understand this。 Listen。 This whole crisis here is a struggle inside me。 By hell； I've been a leper so long； I'm starting to think that the way people treat lepers is justified。 So I'm being my own enemy； my own Despiser…working against myself when I try to stay alive by agreeing with the people who make it so hard。 That's why I'm dreaming this。 Catharsis。 Work out the dilemma subconsciously； so that when I wake up I'll be able to cope。〃
He stood up suddenly； and began to pace Mhoram's ascetic chamber with a voracious gleam in his eyes。 〃Sure。 That's it。 Why didn't I think of it before？ I've been telling myself all the time that this is escapism； suicide。 But that's not it…that's not it at all。 Just forget that I'm losing every one of the habits that keep me alive。 This is dream therapy。〃
But abruptly a grimace of pain clutched his face。 〃Hellfire！〃 he… rasped intensely。 〃That sounds like a story I should have burned…back when I was burning stories…when I still had stories to burn。〃
Mhoram heard the anguished change； the turning to dust； in Covenant's tone； and he stood to reach out toward his visitor。 But he did not need to move； Covenant came almost aimlessly in his direction； as if within the four walls of the chamber he had lost his way。 He stopped at the table near Mhoram； and gazed miserably at the krill。 His voice shook。
〃I don't believe it。 That's just another easy way to die。 I already know too many of them。〃
He seemed to stumble； though he was standing still。 He lurched forward； and caught himself on Mhoram's shoulder。 For a moment； he clung there； pressing his forehead into Mhoram's robe。 Then Mhoram lowered him into a chair。
〃Ah； my friend； how can I help you？ I do not understand。〃
Covenant's lips trembled； but with a visible effort he regained control of his voice。 〃Just tired。 I haven't eaten since yesterday。 That Unfettered One…drained me。 Some food would be very nice。〃
The opportunity to do something for Covenant gave Mhoram a feeling of relief。 Moving promptly； he brought his guest a flask of springwine。 Covenant drank as if he were trying to break an inner drought； and Mhoram went to his back rooms to find some food。
While he was placing bread and cheese and grapes on a tray； he heard a sharp； distant shout； a voice cried his name with an urgency that smote his heart。 He set the tray down； hastened to throw open the door of his chambers。
In the sudden wash of light from the courtyard； he saw a warrior standing in one of the coigns high above him。 The warrior was a young man…too young for war meat； Mhoram thought grimly…who had lost mand of himself。 〃Lord Mhoram！〃 he blurted。 〃e！ Now！ The Close！〃
〃Stop。〃 The authority in Mhoram's tone caught the young man like a bit。 He winced； stiffened； forced down a chaotic tumult of words。 Then he recovered his self…possession。 Seeing this； the Lord said more gently； 〃I hear you。 Speak。〃
〃The High Lord asks that you e to the Close at once。 A messenger has e from the Plains of Ra。 The Gray Slayer is marching。〃
〃War？〃 Mhoram spoke softly to conceal a sharp prevision of blood。
〃Yes； Lord Mhoram。〃
〃Please say to the High Lord that that I have heard you。〃
Bearing himself carefully； Mhoram turned back toward Covenant。 The Unbeliever met his gaze with a hot； oddly focused look； as if his skull were splitting between his eyes。 Mhoram asked simply； 〃Will you e？〃
Covenant gripped the Lord's gaze； and said； 〃Tell me something； Mhoram。 How did you get away when that Raver caught you…near Foul's Creche？〃
Mhoram answered with a conscious serenity； a refusal of dismay； which looked like danger in his goldflecked eyes。 〃The Bloodguard with me were slain。 But when samadhi Raver touched me； he knew me as I knew him。 He was daunted。〃
For a moment； Covenant did not move。 Then he dropped his glance。 Wearily； he set the stoneware flask on the table； pushed it over so that it clicked against the krill。 He tugged momentarily at his beard； then pulled himself to his feet。 To Mhoram's gaze； he looked like a thin candle clogged with spilth…guttering；frail； and portionless。
〃Yes；〃 he said。 〃Elena asked me the same thing。 For all the good it'll do any of us。 I'm ing。〃
Awkwardly； he shambled out onto the burning floor。
PART II
The Warmark
ELEVEN： War Council
HILE Troy was sure of one thing； despite whatever Covenant said； the Land was no dream。 He perceived this with an acuteness which made his heart ache。
In the 〃real〃 world； he had not been simply blind； he had been eyeless from birth。 He lacked even the organs of sight which could have given him a conception of what vision was。 Until the mysterious event which had snatched him from between opposing deaths； and had dropped him on the sunlit grass of Trothgard； light and dark had been equally inprehensible to him。 He had not known that he lived in immitigable midnight。 The tools with which he had handled his physical surroundings had been hearing and touch and language。 His sense of ambience； his sensitivity to the auras of objects and the resonances of space； was translated by words until it became his sole measure of the concrete world。 He had been a good strategist precisely because his perceptions of space and interacting for