Before Covenant could muster the resolve to ask Mhoram what he hoped to accomplish with the krill, the main doors of the Close opened, and Warmark Troy strode down the stairs to the table. Hiltmark Quaan came behind him. While Troy went to sit opposite Covenant, Quaan made his way to join Morin,
Tohrm, and Borillar. Apparently, Troy and Quaan had just come from the Wayward. They had not taken the time to set aside their swords, and their scabbards clashed dully against the stone as they seated themselves.
As soon as they were in their places, High Lord Elena began. She spoke softly, but her clear voice carried perfectly throughout the Close. “We are gathered thus without forewarning because a stranger has come to us. Growl, the stranger is in your care. Tell us of him.”
Growl was one of the Bloodguard. He arose from his seat near the broad stairs of the chamber, and faced the High Lord impassively to make his report. “He passed us. A short time ago, he appeared at the gate of Revelstone. No scout or sentry saw his approach. He asked if the Lords were within. When he was answered, he replied that the High Lord wished to question him. He is not as other men. But he bears no weapon, and intends no ill. We chose to admit him. He awaits you.”
In a sharp voice like the barking of a hawk, Lord Verement asked, “Why did the scouts and sentries fail?”
“The stranger was hidden from our eyes,” Growl replied levelly. “Our watch did not falter.” His unfluctuating tone seemed to assert that the alertness of the Bloodguard was beyond question.
“That is well,” said Verement. “Perhaps one day the whole army of the Despiser will appear unnoticed at our gates, and we will still be sleeping when Revelstone falls.”
He was about to say more, but Elena interposed firmly, “Bring the stranger now.”
As the Bloodguard at the top of the stairs swung open the high wooden doors, Amatin asked the High Lord, “Does this stranger come at your request?”
“No. But I do now wish to question him.”
Covenant watched as two more Bloodguard came into the Close with the stranger between them. He was slim, simply clad in a cream-colored robe, and his movements were light, buoyant. Though he was nearly as tall as Covenant, he seemed hardly old enough to have his full growth. There was a sense of boyish laughter in the way his curly hair bounced as he came down the steps, as if he were amused by the precautions taken against him. But Covenant was not amused. With the new dimension of his sight, he could see why Growl had said that the boy was “not as other men.” Within his young, fresh flesh were bones that seemed to radiate oldness-not age-they were not weak or infirm-but rather antiquity. His skeleton carried this oldness, this aura of time, as if he were merely a vessel for it. He existed for it rather than in spite of it. The sight baffled Covenant's perceptions, made his eyes ache with conflicting impressions of dread and glory as he strained to comprehend.
When the boy reached the floor of the Close, he stepped near to the graveling pit, and made a cheerful obeisance. In a high, young voice, he exclaimed, “Hail, High Lord!”
Elena stood and replied gravely, “Stranger, be welcome in the Land-welcome and true. We are the Lords of Revelstone, and I am Elena daughter of Lena, High Lord by the choice of the Council, and holder of the Staff of Law. How may we honour you?”
“Courtesy is like a drink at a mountain stream. I am honoured already.”
“Then will you honour us in turn with your name?”
With a laughing glance, the boy said, “It may well come to pass that I will tell you who I am.”
“Do not game with us,” Verement cut in. “What is your name?”
“Among those who do not know me, I am named Amok.”
Elena controlled Verement with a swift look, then said to the youth, “And how are you named among those who know you?”
“Those who know me have no need of my name.”
“Stranger, we do not know you” An edge came into her quiet voice. “These are times of great peril in the Land, and we can spend neither time nor delicacy with you. We require to know who you are.”
“Ah, then I fear I cannot help you,” replied Amok with an impervious gaiety in his eyes.
For a moment, the Lords met his gaze with stiff silence. Verement's thin lips whitened; Callindrill frowned thoughtfully; and Elena faced the boy with low anger flushing her cheeks, though her eyes did not lose their odd, dislocated focus. Then Lord Amatin straightened her shoulders and said, “Amok, where is your home? Who are your parents? What is your past?”
Lightly, Amok turned and gave her an unexpected bow. “My home is Revelstone. I have no parents. And my past is both wide and narrow, for I have wandered everywhere, waiting.”
A surge ran through the Council, but no one interrupted Amatin. Studying the boy, she said, “Your home is Revelstone? How can that be? We have no knowledge of you.”
“Lord, I have been away. I have feasted with the Elohim, and ridden Sandgorgons. I have danced with the Dancers of the Sea, and teased brave Kelenbhrabanal in his grave, and traded apothegms with the Grey Desert. I have waited.”
Several of the Lords stirred, and a gleam came into Loerya's eyes, as if she recognized something potent in Amok's words. They all watched him closely as Amatin said, “Yet everything that lives has ancestry, forebearers of its own kind. Amok, what of your parentage?”
“Do I live?”
“It appears not,” Verement growled. “Nothing mortal would try our patience so.”
“Peace, Verement,” said Loerya. “There is grave import here.” Without taking her eyes off Amok, she asked, “Are you alive?”
“Perhaps. While I have purpose, I move and speak. My eyes behold. Is this life?”
His answer confused Lord Amatin. Thinly, as if her uncertainty pained her, she said, “Amok, who made your”
Without hesitation, Amok replied, "High Lord
Kevin son of Loric son of Damelon son of Berek Heartthew the Lord-Fatherer."
A silent clap of surprise echoed in the Close. Around the table, the Lords gaped in astonishment. Then Verement smacked the stone with the flat of his hand, and barked, "By the Seven! This whelp mocks us.
“I think not,” answered Elena.
Lord Mhoram nodded wearily, and sighed his agreement. “Our ignorance mocks us.”
Quickly, Trevor asked, “Mhoram, do you know Amok? Have you seen him?”
Lord Loerya seconded the question, but before Mhoram could gather his strength to respond, Lord Callindrill leaned forward to ask, “Amok, why were you made? What purpose do you serve?”
“I wait,” said the boy. “And I answer.”
Callindrill accepted this with a glum nod, as if it proved an unfortunate point, and said nothing more. After a pause, the High Lord said to Amok, “You bear knowledge, and release it in response to the proper questions. Have I understood you aright?”
In answer, Amok bowed, shaking his head so that his gay hair danced like laughter about his head.
“What knowledge is this?” she inquired.
“Whatever knowledge you can ask for, and receive answer.”
At this, Elena glanced ruefully around the table. “Well, that at least was not the proper question,” she sighed. “I think we will need to know Amok's knowledge before we can ask the proper questions:”
Mhoram looked at her and nodded.
“Excellent!” Verement's retort was full of suppressed ferocity. “So ignorance increases ignorance, and knowledge makes itself unnecessary.”
Covenant felt the force of Verement's sarcasm. But Lord Amatin ignored it. Instead, she asked the youth, “Why have you come to us now?”
“I felt the sign of readiness. The krill of Loric came to life. That is the appointed word. I answer as I was made to do.”