ithout striving to be the master of lives other than my own。 He taught me this…he who gave his own life to Lena my mother。
〃He abhors you； Thomas Covenant。 And yet without him as my father I also would abhor you。〃
〃Are you through？〃 Covenant grated through the clench of his teeth。 〃How much more do you think I can stand？〃
She did not answer aloud。 Instead； she turned toward him。 Tears streaked her cheeks。 She was silhouetted against the darkening vista of Trothgard； as she stepped up to him； slipped her arms about his neck； and kissed him。
He gasped； and her breath was snatched into his lungs。 He was stunned。 A black mist filled his sight as her lips caressed his。
Then for a moment he lost control。 He repulsed her as if her breath carried infection。 Crying； 〃Bustard！〃 he swung； backhanded her face with all his force。
The blow staggered her。
He pounced after her。 His fingers clawed her blanket； tore it from her shoulders。
But his violence did not daunt her。 She caught her balance； did not flinch or recoil。 She made no effort to cover herself。 With her head high； she held herself erect and calm； naked； she stood before him as if she were invulnerable。
It was Covenant who flinched。 He quailed away from her as if she appalled him。 〃Haven't I mitted enough crimes？〃 he panted hoarsely。 〃Aren't you satisfied？〃
Her answer seemed to spring clean and clear out of the strange otherness of her gaze。 〃You cannot ravish me； Thomas Covenant。 There is no crime here。 I am willing。 I have chosen you。〃
〃Don't！〃 he groaned。 〃Don't say that！〃 He flung his arms about his chest as if to conceal a hole in his armor。 〃You're just trying to give me gifts again。 You're trying to bribe me。〃
〃No。 I have chosen you。 I wish to share life with you。〃
〃Don't！〃 he repeated。 〃You don't know what you're doing。 Don't you understand how desperately II…？〃
But he could not say the words； need you。 He choked on them。 He wanted her； wanted what she offered him more than anything。 But he could not say it。 A passion more fundamental than desire restrained him。
She made no move toward him； but her voice reached out。 〃How can my love harm you？〃
〃Hellfire！〃 In frustration； he spread his arms wide like a man baring an ugly secret。 〃I'm a leper！ Don't you see that？〃 But he knew immediately that she did not see； could not see because she lacked the knowledge or the bitterness to perceive the thing he called leprosy。 He hurried to try to explain before she stepped closer to him and he was lost。 〃Look。 Look！〃 He pointed at his chest with one accusing finger。 〃Don't you understand what I'm afraid of？ Don't you prehend the danger here？ I'm afraid I'll bee another Kevin！ First I'll start loving you； and then I'll
learn how to use the wild magic or whatever； and then Foul will trap me into despair； and then I'll be destroyed。 Everything will be destroyed。 That's been his plan all along。 Once I start loving you or the Land or anything； he can just sit back and laugh！ Bloody hell； Elena！ Don't you see it？〃
Now she moved。 When she was within arm's reach； she stopped； and stretched out her hand。 With the tips of her fingers； she touched his forehead as if to smooth away the darkness there。 〃Ah； Thomas Covenant；〃 she breathed gently； 〃I cannot bear to see you frown so。 Do not fear； beloved。 You will not suffer Kevin Landwaster's fate。 I will preserve you。〃
At her touch； something within him broke。 The pure tenderness of her gesture overcame him。 But it was not his restraint which broke； it was his frustration。 An answering tenderness washed through him。 He could see her mother in her； and at the sight he suddenly perceived that it was not anger which made him violent toward her； not anger which so darkened his love； but rather grief and self…despite。 The hurt he had done her mother was only a plex way of hurting himself…an expression of his leprosy。 He did not have to repeat that act。
It was all impossible； everything was impossible； she did not even exist。 But at that moment he did not care。 She was his daughter。 Tenderly； he stooped； retrieved her blanket； wrapped it around her shoulders。 Tenderly； he held her face in his hands； touched her sweet face with the impossible aliveness of his fingers。 He stroked away the salt pain of her tears with his thumbs； and kissed her forehead tenderly。
TWENTY…TWO： Anundivian Yajna
THE next morning； they left Trothgard； and rode into the unfamiliar terrain of the mountains。 Half a league into the range； Amok brought them to a bridge of native stone which spanned the narrowing river…gorge of the Rill。 To ameliorate his own dread of heights as well as to steady his mount； Covenant led his horse across。 The bridge was wide； and the Bloodguard bracketed him with their Ranyhyn； he had no difficulty。
From there； Amok guided the High Lord's party up into the recesses of the peaks。
Beyond the foothills； his path became abruptly demanding…precipitous； rugged； and slow。 He was reduced to a more careful pace as he led the riders along valleys as littered and wracked as wrecks…up treacherous slides and scree falls which lay against cliffs and cola and coombs as if regurgitated out of the mountain gut…rock…down ledges which traversed weathered stone fronts like scars。 But he left no doubt that he knew his way。 Time and again he walked directly to the only possible exit from a closed valley； or found the only horse…worthy trail through a rockfall； or trotted without hesitation into a crevice which bypassed a blank peak。 Through the rough…hewn bulk and jumble of the mountains； he led the High Lord with the obliqueness of a man threading an accustomed maze。
For the first day or so； his goal seemed to be simply to gain elevation。 He took the riders scrambling upward until the cold appeared to pour down on them from the ice tips of the tallest peaks。 Thinner air gave
Covenant visions of scaling some inaccessible and remorseless mountain； and he accepted a thick half…robe from Bannor with a shiver which was not caused by the chill alone。
But then Amok changed directions。 As if he were finally satisfied by the icy air and the pitch of the mountainscapes； he sought no more altitude。 Instead； he began to follow the private amazement of his trail southward。 Rather than plunging deeper into the Westron Mountains； he moved parallel to their eastern borders。 By day； he guided his panions along his unmarked way； and at night he left them in sheltered glens and wombs and gorges； where there were unexpected patches of grass for the mounts； to deal as they saw fit with the exhilarating or cruel cold。 He did not seem to feel the cold himself。 With his thin apparel fluttering against his limbs； he strode ahead in unwearied cheerfulness； as if he ware impervious to fatigue and ice。 Often he had to hold himself back so that the Ranyhyn and Covenant's mustang could keep pace with him。
The two Bloodguard were like him…unaffected by cold or altitude。 But they were Haruchai； born to these mountains。 Their nostrils distended at the vapory breath of dawn or dusk。 Their eyes roamed searchingly over the sunward crags； the valleys occasionally bedizened with azure terns； the hoary glaciers crouching in the highest cots； the snow…fed streams。 Though they wore nothing but short robes； they never shivered or gasped at the cold。 Their wide foreheads and flat cheeks and confident poise betrayed no heart upsurge； no visceral excitement。 Yet there was something clear and passionate in their alacrity as they watched over Elena and Covenant and Amok。
Elena and Covenant were not so immune to the cold。 Their susceptibility clung to them； made them eager for each new day's progress toward warmer southern air。 But their blankets and extra robes were warm。 The High Lord did not appear to suffer。 And as long as she did not suffer； Covenant felt no pain。 Disfort he could ignore。 He was more at peace than he had been for a long time。
Since they had left Trothgard…since he had made the discovery which enabled him to love her without despising himself…he had put everything else out of his mind and concentrated on his daughter。 Lord Foul； the Warward； even this quest itself； were insubstantial to him。 He watched El