The 1st Chronicles of Thomas Covenant #2: The Illearth War by Stephen R. Donaldson Page A
Authors: Stephen R. Donaldson
Tags: Fantasy
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tell whether that argument expressed courage or cowardice.
Slowly, the last of the sun fell behind the mountains, and its emblazonry faded from the sky. Gloaming spread out of the shadow of the peaks, dimming the plains below Covenant until he could only discern them as uneasy, recumbent shapes under the heavens. The stars came out and grew gradually brighter, as if to clarify trackless space; but the voids between them were too great, and the map they made was unreadable. In his dusty, unfertile gaze, they seemed to twinkle unconsolably.
When he heard the polite knock at his door, his need for privacy groaned at the intrusion. But he had other needs as well. He pushed himself to go answer the knock.
The stone door swung open easily on noiseless hinges, and light streamed into the room from the bright-lit hall, dazzling him so that for a moment he did not recognize either of the men outside. Then one of -them said, “Ur-Lord Covenant, we bid you welcome,” in a voice that seemed to bubble with good humor. Covenant identified Tohrm.
“Welcome and true,” said Tohrm’s companion carefully, as if he were afraid he would make a mistake. “We are the Hearthralls of Lord’s Keep. — Please accept welcome and comfort.”
As Covenant’s eyes adjusted, he considered the two men. Tohrm’s companion wore a gray-green Woodhelvennin cloak, and had a small wreath in his hair the mark of a Hirebrand. In his hands he carried several smooth wooden rods for torches. Both the Hearthralls were clean-shaven, but the Hirebrand was taller and slimmer than his partner.
Tohrrn had the stocky, muscular frame of a Stonedownor, and he wore a loam-colored tunic with soft trousers. His companion’s cloak was bordered in Lords’ blue; he had blue epaulets woven into the shoulders of his tunic. Cupped in each of his hands was a small, covered, stone bowl.
Covenant scrutinized Tohrm’s face. The Hearthrall’s nimble eyes and swift smile were soberer than Covenant remembered them, but still essentially unchanged. Like Mhoram, he did not show enough years to account for the full forty.
“I am Borillar,” Tohrm’s companion recited, “Hirebrand of the lillianrill and Hearthrall of Lord’s Keep. This is Tohrm, Gravelingas of the rhadhamaerl and likewise Hearthrall of Lord’s Keep. Darkness withers v the heart. We have brought you light.”
But as Borillar spoke, a look of concern touched Tohrm’s face, and he said, “UrLord, are you well?”
“Well?” Covenant murmured vaguely.
“There is a storm on your brow, and it gives you ‘ pain. Shall I call a Healer?”
“What?”
“Ur-Lord Covenant, I am in your debt. I am told that at the hazard of your life you rescued my old friend Birinair from beyond the forbidding fire under Mount Thunder.
That was bravely done-though it came too late to save his life. Do not hesitate to ask of me. For Birinair’s sake, I will do all in my power for you.”
Covenant shook his head. He knew he should correct Tohrm, tell him that he had braved that fire in an effort to immolate himself, not to save Birinair. But he lacked the courage. Dumbly, he stepped aside and let the Hearthralls into his rooms.
Borillar immediately set about lighting his torches; he moved studiously to the wall sockets as if he were trying to create a good, grave impression. Covenant watched him for a moment, and Tohrm said with a covered smile, “Good Borillar is in awe of you, ur-Lord. He has heard the legends of the Unbeliever from his cradle. And he has not been Hearthrall long. His former master in the lillianrill lore resigned this post to oversee the completion of the Gildenlode keels and rudders which they have been devising for the Giants -as High Lord Loric Vilesilencer promised. Borillar feels himself untimely thrust into responsibility. My old friend Birinair would have called him a whelp”
“He’s young,” Covenant said dully. Then he turned to Tohrm, forced himself to ask the question which most
Slowly, the last of the sun fell behind the mountains, and its emblazonry faded from the sky. Gloaming spread out of the shadow of the peaks, dimming the plains below Covenant until he could only discern them as uneasy, recumbent shapes under the heavens. The stars came out and grew gradually brighter, as if to clarify trackless space; but the voids between them were too great, and the map they made was unreadable. In his dusty, unfertile gaze, they seemed to twinkle unconsolably.
When he heard the polite knock at his door, his need for privacy groaned at the intrusion. But he had other needs as well. He pushed himself to go answer the knock.
The stone door swung open easily on noiseless hinges, and light streamed into the room from the bright-lit hall, dazzling him so that for a moment he did not recognize either of the men outside. Then one of -them said, “Ur-Lord Covenant, we bid you welcome,” in a voice that seemed to bubble with good humor. Covenant identified Tohrm.
“Welcome and true,” said Tohrm’s companion carefully, as if he were afraid he would make a mistake. “We are the Hearthralls of Lord’s Keep. — Please accept welcome and comfort.”
As Covenant’s eyes adjusted, he considered the two men. Tohrm’s companion wore a gray-green Woodhelvennin cloak, and had a small wreath in his hair the mark of a Hirebrand. In his hands he carried several smooth wooden rods for torches. Both the Hearthralls were clean-shaven, but the Hirebrand was taller and slimmer than his partner.
Tohrrn had the stocky, muscular frame of a Stonedownor, and he wore a loam-colored tunic with soft trousers. His companion’s cloak was bordered in Lords’ blue; he had blue epaulets woven into the shoulders of his tunic. Cupped in each of his hands was a small, covered, stone bowl.
Covenant scrutinized Tohrm’s face. The Hearthrall’s nimble eyes and swift smile were soberer than Covenant remembered them, but still essentially unchanged. Like Mhoram, he did not show enough years to account for the full forty.
“I am Borillar,” Tohrm’s companion recited, “Hirebrand of the lillianrill and Hearthrall of Lord’s Keep. This is Tohrm, Gravelingas of the rhadhamaerl and likewise Hearthrall of Lord’s Keep. Darkness withers v the heart. We have brought you light.”
But as Borillar spoke, a look of concern touched Tohrm’s face, and he said, “UrLord, are you well?”
“Well?” Covenant murmured vaguely.
“There is a storm on your brow, and it gives you ‘ pain. Shall I call a Healer?”
“What?”
“Ur-Lord Covenant, I am in your debt. I am told that at the hazard of your life you rescued my old friend Birinair from beyond the forbidding fire under Mount Thunder.
That was bravely done-though it came too late to save his life. Do not hesitate to ask of me. For Birinair’s sake, I will do all in my power for you.”
Covenant shook his head. He knew he should correct Tohrm, tell him that he had braved that fire in an effort to immolate himself, not to save Birinair. But he lacked the courage. Dumbly, he stepped aside and let the Hearthralls into his rooms.
Borillar immediately set about lighting his torches; he moved studiously to the wall sockets as if he were trying to create a good, grave impression. Covenant watched him for a moment, and Tohrm said with a covered smile, “Good Borillar is in awe of you, ur-Lord. He has heard the legends of the Unbeliever from his cradle. And he has not been Hearthrall long. His former master in the lillianrill lore resigned this post to oversee the completion of the Gildenlode keels and rudders which they have been devising for the Giants -as High Lord Loric Vilesilencer promised. Borillar feels himself untimely thrust into responsibility. My old friend Birinair would have called him a whelp”
“He’s young,” Covenant said dully. Then he turned to Tohrm, forced himself to ask the question which most
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