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remained staunch in her work； but she became distracted； almost furtive； as she moved through the Keep。 She often went hungry so that her daughters could have more food。 Whenever she saw the High Lord； she glared at him with a strange resentment in her eyes。
Like Loerya； Lord Amatin grew slowly distant。 At every free moment she plunged into a feverish study of the First and Second Wards； searching so hard for the unlocking of mysteries that when she went back to her public duties her forehead looked as sore as if she had been battering it against her table。
Several Hirebrands and Gravelingases took to carrying fire with them wherever they went； like men who were going inprehensibly blind。 And on the twentieth day of the waiting； Warmark Quaan abruptly reversed all his former decisions； without consulting any of the Lords； he sent a party of scouts out of the Keep toward Satansfist's camp。 None of them returned。
Still the Raver's army lay like dormant chains； constricting the heart of Revelstone。
Quaan berated himself to the High Lord。 〃 I am a fool；〃 he articulated severely； 〃an old fool。 Replace me before I am mad enough to send the Warward itself out to die。〃
〃Who can replace you？〃 Mhoram replied gently。 〃It is the Despiser's purpose to make mad all the defenders of the Land。〃
Quaan looked around him as if to measure with his eyes the chill of Revelstone's travail。 〃He will succeed。 He requires no weapon but patience。〃
Mhoram shrugged。 〃Perhaps。 But I think it is an unsure tactic。 Lord Foul cannot foretell the size of our stores…or the extent of our determination。〃
〃Then why does he wait？〃
The High Lord did not need to be a seer to answer this question。 〃Samadhi Raver awaits a sign…perhaps from us…perhaps from the Despiser。〃
Glowering at the thought； Quaan went back to his duties。 And Mhoram returned to a problem which had been nagging at him。 For the third time； he went in search of Trell。
But once again he could not locate the tormented Gravelingas。 Trell must have secreted himself somewhere。 Mhoram found no trace； felt no emanation； and none of the other rhadhamaerl had seen the big Stonedownor recently。 Mhoram ached at the thought of Trell in hiding； gnawing in cataleptic isolation the infested meat of his anguishes。 Yet the High Lord could not afford either the time or the energy to dredge all Revelstone's private places for the sake of one embittered Gravelingas。 Before he had pleted even a cursory search； he was distracted by a group of Lorewardens who had irrationally decided to go and negotiate a peace with the Raver。 Once again； he was pelled to put aside the question of Trell Atiaran…mate。
On the twenty…fourth day； Lord Trevor forsook his duties altogether。
He sealed himself in his study like a penitent； and refused all food and drink。 Loerya could get no response from him； and when the High Lord spoke to him； he said nothing except that he wished his wife and daughters to have his ration of food。
〃Now even I am a cause of pain to him；'' Loerya murmured with hot tears in her eyes。 〃Because I have given some of my food to my daughters； he believes that he is an insufficient husband and father； and must sacrifice himself。'' She gave Mhoram one desperate glance； like a woman trying to judge the cost of abdication； then hurried away before he could reply。
On the twenty…fifth day； Lord Amatin strode up to Mhoram and demanded without preface or explanation that he reveal to her his secret knowledge。
〃Ah； Amatin；〃 he sighed； 〃are you so eager for burdens？〃
She turned at once and walked fragilely away as if he had betrayed her。
When he went to stand his solitary watch on the tower； a dull vermeil mood was on him； and he felt that he had in fact betrayed her； he had withheld dangerous knowledge from her as if he judged her unable to bear it。 Yet nowhere in his heart could he find the courage to give his fellow Lords the key to the Ritual of Desecration。 That key had a lurid； entrancing weight。 It urged him to rage at Trevor； pummel the pain from Loerya's face； shake Amatin's frail shoulders until she understood； call down fire from the hidden puissance of the skies on Satansfist's head…and refused to let him speak。
On the twenty…seventh day； the first of the storerooms was emptied。 Together； the chief cook and the most experienced Healer reported to Mhoram that the cold and infirm would begin to die of hunger in a few days。
When he went to his chambers to rest； he felt too cold to sleep。 Despite the warm graveling； Lord Foul's winter reached through the stone walls at him as if the gray； unfaltering wind were tuned to his most vulnerable resonances。 He lay wide…eyed on his pallet like a man in a fever of helplessness and imminent despair。
The next night he was snatched off his bed shortly after midnight by the sudden thrill of trepidation which raced through the walls like a flame in the extreme tinder of the Keep' s anticipation。 He was on his way before any summons could reach him； with his staff clenched whitely in his hand； he hastened toward the highest eastward battlements of the main Keep。 He focused on Quaan's dour presence； found the Warmark on a balcony overlooking the watchtower and the night soot of Satansfist's army。
As Mhoram joined him； Quaan pointed one rigid arm like an indictment away toward the east。 But the High Lord did not need Quaan's gesture； the sight seemed to spring at him out of the darkness like a bright abomination on the wind。
Running from the east toward Revelstone was a rift in the clouds； a break that stretched out to the north and south as far as Mhoram could see。 The rift appeared wide； assertive； but the clouds behind it were as impenetrable as ever。
It was so clearly visible because through it streamed light as green as the frozen essence of emerald。
Its brightness made it seem swift； but it moved like a slow； ineluctable tide across the ice…blasted fields beyond the foothills。 Its green； radiant swath swept like a blaze of wrong over the ground； igniting invisible contours into brilliance and then quenching them again。 Mhoram watched it in stunned silence as it lit the Raver's army and rushed on into the foothills of the plateau。 Like a tsunami of malignant scorn； it rolled upward and broke across the Keep。
People screamed when they saw the full emerald moon leering evilly at them through the rift。 The High Lord himself flinched； raised his staff as if to ward off a nightmare。 For a horrific moment while the rift moved； Lord Foul's moon dominated the clear； starless abysm of the sky like an incurable wound； a maiming of the very Law of the heavens。 Emerald radiance covered everything； drowned every heart and drenched Revel…stone's every upraised rock in the tic； green defeat。
Then the rift passed； sick light slid away into the west。 Lord's Keep sank like a broken sea…cliff into irreparable night。
〃Melenkurion！〃 Quaan panted as if he were suffocating。 〃Melenkurion！〃
Slowly； Mhoram realized that he was grimacing like a cornered madman。 But while the darkness crashed and echoed around him； he could not relax his features