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n the ground like arteries or roots of hurt。 It shone through the gray ice on the earth without melting it； and expanded with each throb of samadhi's central power until all of Revelstone was ringed in pulsing veins。
The process of this growth was slow and deadly； by nightfall； the red…green harm was not far past the feet of the ur…viles； and after a long； lurid darkness； dawn found the veins just halfway to the walls。 But it was implacable and sure。 Mhoram could conceive no defense against it because he did not know what it was。
During the next two days； the dread of it spread over Lord's Keep。 People began to talk in whispers。 Men and women hurried from place to place as if they feared that the city stone were turning against them。 Children whimpered inexplicably； and winced at the sight of well…known faces。 A thick atmosphere of fear and inprehension hovered in Revel…stone like the spread wings of an alighting vulture。 Yet Mhoram did not grasp what was being done to the city until the evening of the third day。 Then by chance he approached Warmark Quaan unseen and unheard； and at the touch of his hand on Quaan's shoulder； the Warmark reeled away in panic； clawing at his sword。 When his eyes finally recognized the High Lord； his face filled with a gray ash of misery； and he trembled like an overwhelmed novice。
With a groan of insight； Mhoram understood Revelstone's plight。 Dread of the unknown was only the surface of the peril。 As he threw his arms around Quaan's trembling； he saw that the red…green veins of power in the ground were not a physical danger； rather； they were a vehicle for the raw emotional force of the Despiser's malice…a direct attack on the Keep's will； a corrosive hurled against the moral fabric of Revelstone's resistance。
Fear was growing like a fatal disease in the heart of Lord's Keep。 Under the influence of those lurid veins； the courage of the city was beginning to rot。
It had no defense。 The lillianrill and rhadhamaerl could build vast warming fires within the walls。 The Lorewardens could sing in voices that shook helplessly brave songs of encouragement and victory。 The Warward could drill and train until the warriors had neither leisure nor stamina for fear。 The Lords could flit throughout the city like blue ravens； carrying the light of courage and support and intransigence wherever they went； from gray day to blind night to gray day again。 The Keep was not idle。 As time dragged its dread…aggravated length along； moved through its skeletal round with an almost audible clatter of fleshless bones； everything that could be done was done。 The Lords took to moving everywhere with their staffs alight； so that their bright azure could resist the erosion of Revel…stone's spirit。 But still the veined； bloody harm in the ground multiplied its aegis over the city。 The malignance of tenscore thousand evil hearts stifled all opposition。
Soon even the mountain rock of the plateau seemed to be whimpering in silent fear。 Within five days； some families locked themselves in their rooms and refused to e out； they feared to be abroad in the city。 Others fled to the apparent safety of the upland hills。 Mad fights broke out in the kitchens； where any cook or food handler could snatch up a knife to slash at sudden gusts of terror。 To prevent such outbursts； Warmark Quaan had to station Eoman in every kitchen and refectory。
But though he drove them as if he had a gaunt specter of horror clinging to his shoulders； he could not keep even his warriors from panic。 This fact he was finally forced to report to the High Lord； and after hearing it； Mhoram went to stand his watch on the tower。 Alone there； he faced the night which fell as heavily as the scree of despair against the back of his neck； faced the unglimmering emerald loathsomeness of the Stone； faced the sick； red…green veined fire…and hugged his own dread within the silence of his heart。 If he had not been so desperate； he might have wept in sympathy for Kevin Landwaster； whose dilemma he now understood with a keenness that cut him to the bone of his soul。
Sometime later…after the darkness had added all its chill to Lord Foul's winter； and the watch fires of the encampment had paled to mere sparks beside samadhi Raver's loud； strong lust for death； Loerya Trevor…mate came to the tower； bearing with her a small pot of graveling which she placed before her when she sat on the stone； so that the glow lit her drawn face。 The uplift of her visage cast her eyes into shadow； but still Mhoram could see that they were raw with tears。
〃My daughters〃…her voice seemed to choke her…〃my children… they You know them； High Lord；〃 she said as if she were pleading。 〃Are they not children to make a parent proud？〃
〃Be proud；〃 Mhoram replied gently。 〃Parents and children are a pride to each other。〃
〃You know them； High Lord；〃 she insisted。 〃My joy in them has been large enough to be pain。 They… High Lord； they will no longer eat。 They fear the food…they see poison in the food。 This evil maddens them。''
〃We are all maddened； Loerya。 We must endure。〃
〃How endure？ Without hope…？ High Lord； it were better if I had not borne children。〃
Gently； quietly； Mhoram answered a different question。 〃We cannot march out to fight this evil。 If we leave these walls； we are ended。 There is no other hold for us。 We must endure。〃
In a voice suffused with weeping； Loerya said； 〃High Lord； summon the Unbeliever。〃
〃Ah； sister Loerya…that I cannot do。 You know I cannot。 You know that I chose rightly when I released Thomas Covenant to the demands of his own world。 Whatever other follies have twisted the true course of my life； that choice was not folly。〃
〃Mhoram！〃 she beseeched thickly。
〃No。 Loerya； think what you ask。 The Unbeliever desired to save a life in his world。 But time moves in other ways there。 Seven and forty years have passed since he came first to Revelstone； yet in that time he has not aged even three cycles of the moon。 Perhaps only moments have gone by for him since his last summoning。 If he were called again now； perhaps he would still be prevented from saving the young child who needs him。〃
At the mention of a child； sudden anger twisted Loerya's face。 〃Summon him！〃 she hissed。 〃What are his nameless children to me？ By the Seven； Mhoram！ Summon…！〃
〃No。〃 Mhoram interrupted her； but his voice did not lose its gentleness 。 〃I will not。 He must have the freedom of his own fate…it is his right。 We have no right to take it from him…no； even the Land's utterest need does not justify such an act。 He holds the white gold。 Let him e to the Land if he wills。 I will not gainsay the one true bravery of my unwise life。''
Loerya's anger collapsed as swiftly as it had e。 Wringing her hands over the graveling as if even the hope of warmth had gone out of them； she moaned； 〃This evening my youngest…Yolenid…she is hardly more than a baby…she shrieked at the sight of me。〃 With an effort； she raised her streaming eyes to the high Lord； and whispered； 〃How endure？〃
Though his own heart wept for her； Mhoram met her gaze。 〃The alternative is Desecration。〃 As he looked into the ragged extremity