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w or heard the people moving around him。 He concentrated on the stone； wrought himself to the pitch of Revelstone； to the pulse of its existence and the battle for possession of its life rock。 He saw as clearly as if he were standing on the watchtower that Satansfist's livid power oozed close to the outer walls and then halted… hung poised while the Keep struggled against it。 He heard the muffled groaning of the rock as it fought to remember itself。 He felt the exhaustion of the Gravelingases。 All these things he took into himself； and against the Despiser's wrong he placed his unbreaking will。
And he won。
Shortly before dawn on the fifth day； the onslaught broke like a tidal wave collapsing out to sea under its own weight。 For a long stunned moment； Mhoram felt jubilation running through the rock under his feet and could not understand it。 Around him； people gaped as if the sudden release of pressure astounded them。 Then； swept together by a mon impulse； he and everyone else dashed toward the outer battlements to look at the siege。
The ground below them steamed and quivered like wounded flesh； but the malevolence which had stricken it was gone。 Satansfist's army lay prostrate from overexertion in its encampments。 The Giant…Raver himself was nowhere to be seen。
Over all its walls from end to end； Revelstone erupted in the exultation of victory。 Weak； hoarse； ragged； starving voices cheered； wept； shouted raucous defiance as if the siege had been beaten。 Mhoram found his own vision blurred with relief。 When he turned to go back into the Keep； he discovered Loerya behind him； weeping happily and trying to hug all three of her daughters at once。 At her side； Trevor crowed； and tossed one of the girls giggling into the air。
〃Rest now； Mhoram；〃 Loerya said through her joy。 〃Leave the Keep to us。 We know what must be done。〃
High Lord Mhoram nodded his mute gratitude and went wearily away to his bed。
Yet even then he did not relax until he had felt the Warward resume its defensive stance…felt search parties hunting through the Keep for the most blighted survivors of the assault…felt order slowly reform the city like a mammoth being struggling out of chaos。 Only then did he let himself flow with the slow pulse of the gut…rock and lose his burdens in sleep…secure in the confidence of stone。
By the time he awoke the next morning； Lord's Keep had been returned as much as possible to battle…readiness。 Warmark Quaan brought a tray of breakfast to him in his private quarters； and reported the news of the city to him while he ate。
Thanks to its training； and to exceptional service by some of the Hafts and Warhafts； the Warward had survived essentially unscathed。 The Gravelingases were exhausted； but well。 The Lorewardens and Hirebrands had suffered only chance injuries from panic…stricken friends。 But the people who had not answered the Lords' summons had not fared so well。 Search parties had found several score dead； especially in ground…level apartments near the outer walls。 Most of these people had died of thirst； but some were murdered by their fear…mad friends and neighbors。 And of the hundreds of other survivors； four… or fivescore appeared irreparably insane。
After the search had ended； Lord Loerya had taken to the Healers all those who were physically and mentally damaged； as well as those who seemed to remember having mitted murder。 She was assisting the Healers now。 In other ways； Revelstone was swiftly recovering。 The Keep was intact。
Mhoram listened in silence； then waited for the old Warmark to continue。 But Quaan fell studiously silent； and the High Lord was forced to ask； 〃What of the Raver's army？〃
Quaan spat in sudden vehemence。 〃They have not moved。〃
It was true。 Satansfist's hordes had retreated to their encampment and fallen into stasis as if the force which animated them had been withdrawn。
In the days that followed； they remained essentially still。 They moved enough to perform the bare functions of their camp。 They received dark supply wains from the south and east。 From time to time； an indefinite flicker of power ran among them…a halfhearted whip keeping surly beasts under control。 But none of them approached within hailing distance of the Keep。 Samadhi Raver did not show himself。 Only the unbroken girdle of the siege showed that Lord Foul had not been defeated。
For five days…ten…fifteen…the enemy lay like a dead thing around Revelstone。 At first； some of the more optimistic inhabitants of the city argued that the spirit of the attackers had been broken。 But Warmark Quaan did not believe this； and after one long look from the watchtower； Mhoram agreed with his old friend。
Satansfist was simply waiting for Revelstone to eat up its supplies； weaken itself； before he launched his next assault。
As the days passed； High Lord Mhoram lost his capacity to rest。 He lay tense in his chambers and listened to the mood of the city turn sour。
Slowly； day by day； Lord's Keep came to understand its predicament。 The Giants who had delved Revelstone out of the mountain rock thousands of years ago； in the age of Damelon； had made it to be impregnable； and all its inhabitants had lived from birth with the belief that this intention had succeeded。 The walls were granite； and the gates； unbreakable。 In a crisis the fertile upland plateau could provide the Keep with food。 But the Despiser's unforeseen； unforeseeable winter had laid the upland barren； crops and fruit could not grow； cattle or other animals could not live； in the brazen wind。 And the storerooms had already supplied the city since the natural onset of winter。
For the first time in its long history； Revelstone's people saw that they might starve。
In the initial days of waiting； the Lords began a stricter rationing of the supplies。 They reduced each person's daily share of food until everyone in Revelstone felt hungry all the time。 They organized the refectories more stringently； so that food would not be wasted。 But these measures were palpably inadequate。 The city had many thousand inhabitants； even on minimal rations they consumed large portions of the stores every day。
Their earlier elation ran out of them like water leaking into parched sand。 The wait became first stupefying； then heavy and ominous； like pent thunder； then maddening。 And High Lord Mhoram found himself yearning for the next attack。 He could fight back against an attack。
Gradually； the cold gray days of suspense began to weaken the Keep's discretion； its pragmatic sense。 Some of the farmers…people whose lifework had been taken from them by the winter…crept out to the upland hills around Glimmermere； sneaking as if they were ashamed to be caught planting futile rows of seeds in the frozen earth。
Lord Trevor began to neglect some of his duties。 At odd times； he forgot why he had bee a Lord； forgot the impulse which had made him a Lord in defiance of his lack of belief in himself； and he shirked normal responsibilities as if he were inexplicably afraid of failure。 Loerya his wife remained staunch in her work； but she became distracted； almost furtive； as she moved through the Ke