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it。 I know what it is。〃
Mhoram shouted for a Healer； but Trevor shrugged away any suggestion that he needed help。 He met the High Lord like a man exalted； and repeated； 〃I have felt it； Mhoram。〃
Mhoram controlled his concern。 〃Felt it？〃
〃Lord Foul's power。 The power which makes all this possible。〃
〃The Stone…〃 Mhoram began。
〃The Stone does not suffice。 This weather…the speed with which he became so mighty after his defeat in Garroting Deep…the force of this army； though it is so far from his mand…these dead shapes； pelled from the very ground by power so vast…！
〃The Stone does not suffice。 I have felt it。 Even Lord Foul the Despiser could not bee so much more unconquerable in seven short years。〃
〃Then how？〃 the High Lord breathed。
〃This weather…this winter。 It sustains and drives the army…it frees Satansfist…it frees the Despiser himself for other work…the work of the Stone。 The work of these dead。 Mhoram； do you remember Drool Rock…worm's power over the weather…and the moon？〃
Mhoram nodded in growing amazement and dread。
〃I have felt it。 Lord Foul holds the Staff of Law。〃
A cry tore itself past Mhoram's lips； despite his instantaneous conviction that Trevor was right。 〃How is it possible？ The Staff fell with High Lord Elena under Melenkurion Sky weir。〃
〃I do not know。 Perhaps the same being who slew Elena bore the Staff to Foul's Creche…perhaps it is dead Kevin himself who wields the Staff on Foul's behalf； so that the Despiser need not personally use a power not apt for his control。 But I have felt the Staff； Mhoram…the Staff of Law beyond all question。〃
Mhoram nodded； fought to contain the amazed fear that seemed to echo inimitably within him。 The Staff！ Battle raged around him； he could afford neither time nor strength for anything but the immediate task。 Lord Foul held the Staff！ If he allowed himself to think about such a thing； he might lose himself in panic。 Eyes flashing； he gave Trevor's shoulder a hard clasp of praise and radeship； then turned back toward the courtyard。
For a moment； he pushed his perceptions through the din and clangor； bent his senses to assess Revelstone's situation。 He could feel Lord Amatin atop the tower； still waging her fire against the dead。 She was weakening… her continuous exertions had long since passed the normal limits of her stamina…yet she kept her ragged blaze striking downward； fighting as if she meant to spend her last pulse or breath in the tower's defense。 And her labor had its effect。 Though she could not stop even a tenth of the shambling shapes； she had now broken so many of them that the unbound sand clogged the approaches to the tunnel。 Fewer of the dead could plow forward at one time； her work； and the constriction of the tunnel； slowed their march； slowed the multiplication of their pressure on the inner gates。
But while she strove； battle began to mount up through the tower toward her。 Few Cavewights now tried to enter through the doors。 Their own dead blocked the corridors； and while they fought for access； they were exposed to the archers of the Keep。 But enemies were breaching the tower somehow； Mhoram could hear loud bat surging upward through the tower's plex passages。 With an effort； he ignored everything else around him； concentrated on the tower。 Then through the hoarse mands； the clash of weapons； the raw cries of hunger and pain； the tumult of urgent feet； he sensed Satansfist's attack on the outer wall of the tower。 The Raver threw fierce bolts of Illearth power at the exposed coigns and windows； occasionally at Lord Amatin herself； and under the cover of these blasts； his creatures threw up ladders against the wall； swarmed through the openings。
In the stone under his feet； High Lord Mhoram could feel the inner gates groaning。
Quickly； he turned to one of the warriors； a tense Stonedownor woman。 〃Go to the tower。 Find Warmark Quaan。 Say that I mand him to withdraw from the tower。 Say that he must bring Lord Amatin with him。 Go。〃
She saluted and ran。 A few moments later； he saw her dash over the courtyard along one of the crosswalks。
By that time； he had already returned to the battle。 With Lord Trevor working doggedly at his side； he renewed his attack on the earthen pressure building against Revelstone's inner gates。 While the supportive power of the Gravelingases vibrated in the stone under him； he gathered all his accumulated ferocity and drove it at the crush of dead。 Now he knew clearly what he hoped to achieve； he wanted to cover the flagstones of the courtyard with so much sand that the blind； shambling shapes would have no solid footing from which to press forward。 Trevor's aid seemed to uplift his effectiveness； and he shattered dead by tens and scores until his staff hummed in his hands and the air around him became so charged with blue force that he appeared to emanate Lords…fire。
Yet while he labored； wielded his power like a scythe through Satansfist's ill crop； he kept part of his attention cocked toward the crosswalks。 He was watching for Quaan and Amatin。
A short time later； the first crosswalk fell。 The battered remnant of an Eoman dashed along it out of the tower； rabidly pursued by Cavewights。 Archers sent the Cavewights plunging to the courtyard； and as soon as the warriors were safe； the walk's cables were cut。 The wooden span swung clattering down and crashed against the wall of the tower。
The tumult of battle echoed out of the tower。 Abruptly； Warmark Quaan appeared on one of the upper spans。 Yelling stridently to make himself heard； he ordered all except the two highest crosswalks cut。
Mhoram shouted up to the Warmark； 〃Amatin！〃
Quaan nodded； ran back into the tower。
The next two spans fell promptly； but the sentries at the third waited。 After a moment； several injured warriors stumbled out onto the walk。 Supporting each other； carrying the crippled； they struggled toward the Keep。 But then a score of Stone…born creatures charged madly out of the tower。 Defying arrows and swords； they threw the injured off the span and rushed on across the walk。
Grimly； deliberately； the sentries cut the cables。
Every enemy that appeared in the doorways where the spans had been was killed or beaten back by a hail of fiery arrows。 The higher crosswalks fell in swift succession。 Only two remained for the survivors in the tower。
Now Lord Trevor was panting dizzily at the High Lord's side； and Mhoram himself felt weak with strain。 But he could not afford to rest。 Tohrm's Gravelingases would not be able to hold the gates alone。
Yet his flame lost its vehemence as the urgent moments passed。 Fear for Quaan and Amatin disrupted his concentration。 He wanted intensely to go after them。 Warriors were escaping constantly across the last two spans； and he watched their flight with dread in his throat； aching to see their leaders。
One more span went down。
He stopped fighting altogether when Quaan appeared alone in the doorway of the last crosswalk。
Quaan shouted across to the Keep； but Mhoram could not make out the words。 He watched with clenched breath as four warriors raced towar