red； and a sudden scrutinizing gleam sprang from under Mhoram's brows。 Elena moved toward him； intending to speak； but before she could begin； he went on； 〃I knew a woman like that once。〃 He was striving to sound casual； but his voice was awkward。 〃At the leprosarium。〃
Troy groaned inwardly； but held himself still。
〃She was beau… Of course； I didn't know her then。 And she didn't have any pictures of herself； or if she did she didn't show them。 I don't think she could even stand to look in the mirror anymore。 But the doctors told me that she used to be beautiful。 She had a smile… Even when I knew her； she could still smile。 It looked just like that。〃 He nodded in the direction of the rock garden； but he did not look at it。 He was concentrating on his memory。
〃She was a classic case。〃 As he continued； his tone became harsher and more bitter。 He articulated each word distinctly； as if it had jagged edges。 〃She was exposed to leprosy as a kid in the Philippines or somewhere…her parents were stationed there in the military； I suppose…and it caught up with her right after she got married。 Her toes went numb。 She should have gone to a doctor right then； but she didn't。 She was one of those people whom you can't interrupt。 She couldn't take time away from her husband and friends to worry about cold toes。
〃So she lost her toes。 She finally went to a doctor when her feet began to cramp so badly that she could hardly walk； and eventually he figured out what was wrong with her； and sent her to the leprosarium； and the doctors there had to amputate。 That gave her some trouble…it's hard to walk when you don't have any toes…but she was irrepressible。 Before long she was back with her husband。
〃But she couldn't have any kids。 It's just criminal folly for lepers who know better to have any kids。 Her husband understood that…but he still wanted children； and so in due course he divorced her。 That hurt her； but she survived it。 Before long； she had a job and new friends and a new life。 And she was back in the leprosarium。 She was just too full of vitality and optimism to take care of herself。 This time； two of her fingers were numb。
〃That cost her her job。 She was a secretary； and needed her fingers。 And of course her boss didn't want any lepers working for him。 But once her disease was arrested again； she learned how to type without using those dead fingers。 Then she moved to a new area； got another job； more new friends； and went right on living as if absolutely nothing had happened。
〃At about this time…or so they told me…she conceived a passion for folk dancing。 She'd learned something about it in her travels as a kid； and now it became her hobby； her way of making new friends and telling them that she loved them。 With her bright clothes and her smile； she was…〃
He faltered； then went on almost at once： 〃But she was back in the leprosarium two years later。 She didn't have very good footing； and she took too many falls。 And not enough medication。 This time she lost her right leg below the knee。 Her sight was starting to blur； and her right hand was pretty much crippled。 Lumps were growing in her face； and her hair was falling out。
〃As soon as she learned how to hobble around on her artificial limb； she started folk…dancing lessons for the lepers。
〃The doctors kept her a long time； but finally she convinced them to let her out。 She swore she was going to take better care of herself this time。 She'd learned her lesson； she said； and she wasn't ever ing back。
〃For a long time； she didn't e back。 But it wasn't because she didn't need to。 Bit by bit； she was whittling herself away。 When I met her； she was back at the leprosarium because a nursing home had thrown her out。 She didn't have anything left except her smile。
〃I spent a lot of time in her room； watching her lie there in bed…listening to her talk。 I was trying to get used to the stench。 Her face looked as if the doctors hit her with clubs every morning； but she still had that smile。 Of course； most of her teeth were gone but her smile hadn't changed。
〃She tried to teach me to dance。 She'd make me stand where she could see me； and then she'd tell me where to put my feet； when to jump； how to move my legs。〃 Again he faltered。 〃And in between she used to take hours telling me what a full life she'd had。
〃She must've been all of forty years old。〃
Abruptly； he stooped to the ground； snatched up a stone； and hurled it with all his strength at the grinning face of the rock garden。 His throw fell far short； but he did not stop to watch the stone roll into the valley。 Turning away from it； he rasped thickly； 〃If I ever get my hands on her husband； I'll wring his bloody neck。〃 Then he strode down off the knoll toward the horses。 In a moment； he was astride his mount and galloping away to rejoin the road。 Bannor was close behind him。
Troy took a deep breath； trying to shake off the effect of Covenant's tale； but he could think of nothing to say。 When he looked over at Elena； he saw that she was melding with Mhoram and Amatin as if she needed their support to bear what she had heard。 After a moment； Mhoram said aloud； 〃Ur…Lord Covenant is a prophet。〃
〃Does he foretell the fate of the Land？〃 Amatin asked painfully。
〃No！〃 Elena's denial was fierce； and Mhoram breathed also； 〃No〃 But Troy could hear that Mhoram meant something different。
Then the melding ended； and the Lords returned to their mounts。 Soon the pany was back on the road； riding after Covenant in the direction of Revelwood。
For the rest of the afternoon； Troy was too disturbed by the Lords' reaction to Covenant to relax and enjoy the journey。 But the next day； he found a way to soothe his vague distress。 He envisioned in detail the separate progresses of the Warward…the Bloodguard riding with Lord Callindrill； the mounted Eoward rafting and galloping； the warriors marching behind Amorine。 On his mental map of the Land； these various thrusts had a deliberate symmetry that pleased him in some fundamental way。 Before long； he began to feel better。
And Trothgard helped him； also。 South of the rock gardens； the land's mantle of soil became thicker and more fertile； so that the hills through which the pany rode had no bare stone jutting up among the grass and flowers。 Instead； copses and broad swaths
of woodland grew everywhere； punctuating the slopes and unfurling oratorically across the vales and valleys。 Under the bright sky and the autumn balm of Trothgard； Troy put his uncertainty about Covenant behind him like a bad dream。
At that point； even the problem of munications did not bother him。 Ordinarily； he was even more concerned by his inability to convey messages to Quaan than by his ignorance of what was happening to Korik's mission。 But he was on his way to Revelwood。 High Lord Elena had promised him that the Loresraat was working on his problem。 He looked forward hopefully to the chance that the students of the Staff had found a solution for him。
That evening； he enjoyed the singing and talk of the Lords around the campfire。 Mhoram was withdrawn and silent； with a strange look of foreboding in his eyes； and Covenant glowered glum and taciturn into the coals of the fire。 But High Lord Elena was in vibrant good spirits。 With Amatin； she spread a mood of humor and gaiety over the pany until even the somberest of the Lorewardens seemed to effervesce。 Troy thought that she had never looked more lovely。
Yet he went to the blindness of his bed with an ache in his heart。 He could not help knowing that Elena exerted her brilliance for Covenant's sake； not for his。
He fell at once into sleep as if to escape his sightlessness。 But in the darkest part of the moonless night； sharp voices and the stamping of hooves roused him。 Through the obscure illumination of the fire embers； he saw a Bloodguard on a Ranyhyn standing in the center of the camp。 The Ranyhyn steamed in the cold air； it had galloped hotly to reach the Lords。
First Mark Morin and Lord Mhoram already stood by the Ranyhyn； and the High Lord was hurrying from her blankets with Lord Amatin behind her。 Troy threw an armful of kindling on the fire。 The sudden blaze gave him a better view of the Bloodguard。
The grime of h