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A silence like disbelief answered him from every part of the cavern。 But then a few voices said in a tone of weary self…abandonment； 〃Speak； then。 We have chosen。〃
The crawler steadied itself。 〃We will speak。 We have chosen。 White gold human； you ask what we are。 We are the jheherrin…the soft ones… Maker…work。〃 As it spoke； the rocklight pulsed in the air like sorrow。
' 〃The Maker labors deep in the fastness of his home； breeding armies。 He takes living flesh as you know living flesh； and works his power upon it； shaping power and malice to serve his own。 But his work does not always grow to his desires。 At times the result is weakness rather than strength。 At times his making is blind…or crippled…or stillborn。 Such spawn he casts into a vast quagmire of fiery mud to be consumed。〃
A vibration of remembered terror filled the cavern。
〃But there is another potency in that abysm。 We are not slain。 In agony we bee the jheherrin…the soft ones。 We are transformed。 From the depths of the pit we crawl。〃
〃We crawl；〃 voices echoed。
〃In lightless bs lost even to the memory of the Maker…〃
〃Lost。〃
〃…we supplicate our lives。〃
〃Lives。〃
〃From the mud of the thorn wastes to the very walls of the Maker…place； we wander in soil and fear； searching…〃
〃Searching。〃
〃…listening…〃
〃Listening。〃
〃…waiting。〃
〃Waiting。〃
〃The surface of the Earth is denied to us。 We would perish in dust if the light of the sun were to touch us。 And we cannot delve…we cannot make new tunnels to lead us from this place。 We are soft。〃
〃Lost。〃
〃And we dare not offend the Maker。 We live in sufferance…he smiles upon our abjection。〃
〃Lost。〃
〃Yet we retain the shapes of what we were。 We are〃…the voice shuddered as if it feared it would be stricken for its audacity…〃not servants of the Maker。〃
Hundreds of the jheherrin gasped in trepidation。
〃Many of our bs border the passages of the Maker。 We search the walls and listen。 We hear…the Maker has no secret。 We heard his enmity against you； his intent against you。 In the name of the legend； we debated and chose。 Any aid that could be concealed from the Maker； we choose to give。〃
As the crawler finished； all the jheherrin fell silent； and watched Covenant while he groped for a response。 Part of him wanted to weep； to throw his arms around the monstrous creatures and weep。 But his purpose was rigid within him。 He felt that he could not bend to gentleness without breaking。 To destroy Lord Foul； he grated silently。 Yes！ 〃But you；〃 he responded harshly； 〃they said it's impossible。 Cannot be done。〃
〃Cannot；〃 the crawler trembled。 〃The passages of the Maker under Kurash Qwellinir are guarded。 Kurash Qwellinir itself is a maze。 The fires of Gorak Krembal ward the Maker…place。 His halls swarm with malice and servants。 We have heard。 The Maker has no secret。〃
〃Yet you aided us。〃 The Giant's tone was thoughtful。 〃You have dared the Maker's rage。 You did not do this for any small reason。〃
〃That is true。〃 The speaker seemed afraid of what Foamfollower might say next。
〃Surely there are other aids which you can give。〃
〃Yes…yes。 Of Gorak Krembal we do not speak…there is nothing。 But we know the ways of Kurash Qwellinir。 And…and in the Maker…place also…there is something。 But…〃 The speaker faltered； fell silent。
〃But；〃 Foamfollower said steadily； 〃such aid is not the reason for the aid you have already given。 I am not deaf or blind； jheherrin。 Some other cause has led you to this peril。〃
〃The legend…〃 gulped the speaker； then slithered away to confer with the creatures behind it。 An intensely whispered argument followed； during which Covenant tried to calm his sense of impending crisis。 For some obscure reason； he hoped that the creatures would refuse to speak of their legend。 But when the crawler returned to them； Foamfollower said deliberately； 〃Tell us。〃
A silence of dread echoed in the cavern； and when the speaker replied fearfully； 〃We will；〃 a chorus of shrieks pierced the air。 Several score of the jheherrin fled； unable to bear the risk。 〃We must。 There is no other way。〃
The crawler approached a few feet； then slumped wetly on the floor； gasping as if it could not breathe。 But after a moment； it lifted up its quavering voice and began to sing。 The song was in an alien tongue that Covenant did not prehend； and its pitches were made so uncertain by fear that he could not discern the melody。 Yet…more in the way the jheherrin listened than in the song itself…he sensed something of its potency； its attractiveness for the creatures。 Without understanding anything about it； he was moved。
It was a short song； as if long ages of grim or abject use had reduced it to its barest bones。 When it was done； the speaker said weakly； 〃The legend。 The one hope of the jheherrin…the sole part of our lives that is not Maker…work； the sole purpose。 It tells that the distant forebearers of the jheherrin； the un…Maker…made； were themselves Makers。 But they were not seedless as he is…as we are。 They were not driven to breed upon the flesh of others。 From their bodies came forth young who grew and in turn made young。 Thus the world was constantly renewed； in firmness and replenishment。 Such things cannot be imagined。
〃But the Makers were flawed。 Some were weak； some blind； others incautious。 Among them the Maker was born； seedless and bitter； and they did not see or fear what they had done。 Thus they fell into his power。 He captured them and took them to the deep fastnesses of his home； and used them to begin the work of forming armies。
〃We are the last vestige of these flawed un…Maker…made。 Their last life is preserved in us。 In punishment for their flaws； we are doomed to crawl the bs in misery and watchfulness and eternal fear。 Mud is our sun and blood and being； our flesh and home。 Fear is our heritage； for the Maker could bring us to an end with one word； living as we do in the very shadow of his home。 But we are watchful in the name of our one hope。 For it is said that some un…Maker…made are still free of the Maker…that they still bring forth young from their bodies。 It is said that when the time is ready； a young will be birthed without flaw…a pure offspring impervious to the Maker and his making…unafraid。 It is said that this pure one will e bearing tokens of power to the Maker's home。 It is said that he will redeem the jheherrin if they prove…if he finds them worthy…that he will win from the Maker their release from fear and mud…if…if…'' The crawler could not go on。 Its voice stumbled into silence； left the cavern aching for a reply to fill the void of its misery。
But Covenant could not bend without breaking。 He felt all the attention of the jheherrin focused on him。 He could feel them voicelessly asking him； imploring； Are you the pure one？ If we help you； will you free us？ But he could not give them the answer they wanted。 Their living death deserved the truth from him； not a false hope。
Deliberately； he sacrificed their help。 His voice was harsh； he sounded angry as he said； 〃Look at me。 You know the answer。 Under all this mud； I'm sick…dise