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he rough rocks。 For an instant； he protected himself with his arms。 But then his head smacked against a broad facet of stone in the hillside。
He seemed to fall into the stone； as if he were burying his face in darkness。 The hard surface of it broke over him like a wave； he could feel himself plunging deep into the rock's granite essence。
No！ he cried。 No！ Not now！
He fought it with every jot of his strength。 But it surpassed him。 He sank into it as if he were drowning in stone。
Two
Variol…son
High Lord Mhoram sat in his private chambers deep in Revelstone。 The unadorned gut…rock walls around him were warmly lit by small urns of graveling in each corner of the room； and the faint aroma of newly broken earth from the lore…glowing stones wrapped fortably around him。 But still he could feel the preternatural winter which was upon the land。 Despite the brave hearth fires set everywhere by the Hirebrands and Gravelingases of Lord's Keep； a bitter chill seeped noticeably through the mountain granite of the city。 High Lord Mhoram felt it。 He could sense its effect on the physical mood of the great Giant…wrought Keep。 On an almost subliminal level； Revelstone was huddling against the cold。
Already； the first natural turnings of winter toward spring were a full cycle of the moon late。 The middle night of spring was only fourteen days away； and still ice clung to the Land。
Outside the wedge…shaped mountain plateau of the Keep； there was not much snow； the air was too cold for snow。 It blew at Revelstone on a jagged； uncharacteristic wind out of the east； kicking a thin skiff of snow across the foothills of the plateau； blinding all the windows of the Keep under deep inches of frost and immobilizing with ice the lake at the foot of Furl Falls。 Mhoram did not need to smell the Despite which hurled that wind across the Land to know its source。
It came from Ridjeck Thome； Foul's Creche。
As the High Lord sat in his chambers； with his elbows braced on the stone table and his chin propped on one palm； he was aware of that wind hissing through the background of his thoughts。 Ten years ago； he would have said that it was impossible； the natural weather patterns of the Land could not be so wrenched apart。 Even five years ago； after he had had time to assess and reassess the loss of the Staff of Law； he would have doubted that the Illearth Stone could make Lord Foul so powerful。 But now he knew better； understood more。
High Lord Elena's battle with dead Kevin Landwaster had taken place seven years ago。 The Staff of Law must have been destroyed in that struggle。 Without the Staff's innate support for the natural order of the Earth； one great obstacle was gone from the path of the Despiser's corrupting power。 And the Law of Death had been broken； Elena had summoned Old Lord Kevin from beyond the grave。 Mhoram could not begin to measure all the terrible implications of that rupture。
He blinked； and his gold…flecked eyes shifted into focus on the carving which stood on the table two feet from the flat blade of his nose。 The bone of the carving gleamed whitely in the light of the fire…stones。 It was a marrowmeld sculpture； the last of Elena's anundivianyajna work。 Bannor of the Bloodguard had preserved it； and had given it to Mhoram when they had e together on Gallows Howe in Garroting Deep。 It was a finely detailed bust； a sculpting； of a lean； gaunt； impenetrable face； and its lines were tense with prophetic purpose。 After Mhoram and the survivors of the Warward had returned to Revelstone from Garroting Deep； Bannor had explained the history of the bone sculpture。
In fact； he had explained it in unaccustomed detail。 His habitual Bloodguard reticence had given way almost to prolixity； and the fullness of his description had provided Mhoram with a first hint of the fundamental alteration which had taken place in the Bloodguard。 And in turn that description had led circuitously to the great change in Mhoram's own life。 By a curious logic of its own； it had put an end to the High Lord's power of prevision。
He was no longer seer and oracle to the Council of Lords。 Because of what he had learned； he caught no more glimpses of the future in dreams； read no more hints of distant happenings in the dance of the fire。 The secret knowledge which he had gained so intuitively from the marrowmeld sculpture had blinded the eyes of his prescience。
It had done other things to him as well。 It had afflicted him with more hope and fear than he had ever felt before。 And it had partly estranged him from his fellow Lords； in a sense； it had estranged him from all the people of Revelstone。 When he walked the halls of the Keep； he could see in the sympathy and pain and doubt and wonder of their glances that they perceived his separateness； his voluntary isolation。 But he suffered more from the breach which now obtained between him and the other Lords… Callindrill Faer…mate； Amatin daughter of Matin； Trevor son of Groyle； and Loerya Trevor…mate。 In all their work together； in all the intercourse of their daily lives； even in all the mind melding which was the great strength of the new Lords； he was forced to hold that sickening hope and fear apart； away from them。 For he had not told them his secret。
He had not told them； though he had no justification for his silence except dread。
Intuitively； by steps which he could hardly articulate； Elena's marrowmeld sculpture had taught him the secret of the Ritual of Desecration。
He felt that there was enough hope and fear in the knowledge to last him a lifetime。
In the back of his mind； he believed that Bannor had wanted him to have this knowledge and had not been able to utter it directly。 The Bloodguard Vow had restricted Bannor in so many ways。 But during the single year of his tenure as First Mark； he had expressed more than any Bloodguard before him his solicitude for the survival of the Lords。
High Lord Mhoram winced unconsciously at the memory。 The secret he now held had been expensive in more ways than one。
There was hope in the knowledge because it answered the quintessential failure which had plagued the new Lords from the beginning…from the days in which they had accepted the First Ward of Kevin's Lore from the Giants； and had sworn the Oath of Peace。 If it were used； the knowledge promised to unlock the power which had remained sealed in the Wards despite the best efforts of so many generations of Lords and students at the Loresraat。 It promised mastery of Kevin's Lore。 It might even show ur…Lord Thomas Covenant how to use the wild magic in his white gold ring。
But Mhoram had learned that the very thing which made Kevin's Lore powerful for good also made it powerful for ill。 If Kevin son of Loric had not had that particular capacity for power； he would not have been able to Desecrate the Land。
If Mhoram shared his knowledge； any Lord who wished to reinvoke the Ritual would not be forced to rely upon an instinctive distrust of life。
That knowledge violated the Oath of Peace。 To his horror； Mhoram had e to perceive that the Oath itself was the essential blindness； the incapaci