Amok laughed. “Old man, I was old when the grandsire of your grandsire's grandsire was a babe. Do I appear to be a warrior?”
“I care nothing for age,” the Sword-Elder snapped. “You behave as a child.”
“I am what I am. I behave as I was made to behave.”
When Lord Amatin spoke again, she emphasized her words intently. “Amok, what are you?”
Without hesitation, Amok replied, “I am the Seventh Ward of High Lord Kevin's Lore.”
His answer threw a stunned silence over the whole gathering. Both Elders gasped, and Corimini had to brace himself on Elena's shoulder. A burst of wild emotion shot across Elena's face. Mhoram's eyes crackled with sudden, visionary fire. And Lord Amatin gaped-amazed or appalled at what she had uncovered. Even Troy, who had not devoted his whole life to the mysteries of the Wards, felt abruptly unbalanced, as if his precarious perch had been jolted by something inscrutable. Then a ragged cheer sprang up among the students. The Lorewardens pressed eagerly forward, as if they wanted to verify Amok's existence by touching him. And through the clamour, Troy heard High Lord Elena exclaim, “By the Seven! We are saved!”
Covenant also heard her. “Saved?” he rasped across the din. "You don't even know what the Seventh Ward is.
Elena ignored him. She beamed grateful congratulations to Lord Amatin, then raised her arms to quiet the assembly. When some degree of order had returned to the viancome, she said, “Amok, you are indeed well made. You chose wisely in returning to us. Now the Despiser does not overpower us as much as he may think.”
With an effort, old Corimini forced himself to remember his long experience with the unattainability of the Wards. In a thin voice, he quavered, “But still we do not know the questions to unlock this knowledge.”
“We will find them,” Elena responded. Sharp determination thrummed in her voice.
After a pause to steady herself, Lord Amatin returned to her inquiry. “Amok, the Wards which we have found contain various knowledges on many subjects. It is so with the Seventh Ward?”
Amok seemed to think that this was a penetrating question. He bowed to her as seriously as his bubbling spirits permitted, and said, “Lord, the Seventh Ward has many uses, but I am only one answer.”
“What answer are you?”
“I am the way and the door.”
“How so?”
“That is my answer.”
Lord Amatin looked toward Elena and Mhoram for suggestions, and Troy took the opportunity to ask, “The way and the door to what?”
With a chuckle, Amok replied, “Those who know me have no need for my name.”
“Yes, I remember,” Troy growled. “And among those who do not know you, you are named Amok. Why don't you think of something else to say?”
“Think of some other question,” the youth retorted gaily.
Troy retreated, baffled, and after a moment Lord Amatin was ready to continue. “Amok, knowledge is the way and door of power. The Earthpower answers those who know its name. How great is the power of the Seventh Ward?”
“It is the pinnacle of Kevin's Lore,” said Amok slyly, as if he were making a subtle joke.
“Can it be used to defeat the Despiser?”
“Power is power. Its uses are in the hands of the user.”
“Amok,” Amatin said, then hesitated. She seemed almost afraid of her next question. But she clenched her resolve, and spoke it. “Does the Seventh Ward contain knowledge of the Ritual of Desecration?”
“Lord, Desecration requires no knowledge. It comes freely to any willing hand.”
The Lord sighed, then turned to Asuraka and asked the Staff-Elder for advice. Asuraka referred the question to Drinishok, but he was out of his element, and could offer her nothing. On an impulse, she turned to Corimini. The two conferred in hushed tones for a moment. When Asuraka returned to Amok, she said tentatively, “Amok, the other Wards teach knowledge concerning power. Are you the power of the Seventh Ward?”
“I am the way and the door.”
“Do you bear the power itself within you?” she insisted.
For a moment, Amok appeared to study the legitimacy of this question. Then he said simply, “No.”
“Are you a teacher?”
“I am the way and-”
Suddenly Lord Amatin grasped a new idea, and interrupted Amok. “You are a guide.”
“Yes.”
“You were created to teach us the location of some knowledge or power?”
“Ah, that may be as it happens. Much is taught, but few learn.”
“Where is this power?”
“Where all such powers should be-hidden.”
“What is the power?”
Laughing, the youth replied, “There is a time for all things.” Then he added, “Those who know me have no need of my name.”
Amatin sagged, and turned away toward the High Lord. Her thin face held a look of strain as she admitted defeat. Around her, the assembly of the Loresraat sighed as the people shared her disappointment. But the High Lord answered Amatin by stepping calmly forward, and planting the Staff of Law in front of Amok. In a voice soft and confident, she said, “Amok, will you guide me?”
With an unexpected seriousness, Amok bowed. “High Lord, yes. If the white gold permits.”
“Don't ask me for permission,” Covenant said quickly. But no one listened to him. The High Lord smiled and asked, “Where will we go?”
The youth did not speak, but he gave a general nod toward the Westron Mountains.
“And when will we go?”
“Whenever the High Lord desires.” Throwing back his head, he began to laugh again as if he were releasing an overflow of high humour. “Think of me, and I will join you.”
As he laughed, he flourished his arms intricately, and vanished.
Either his power was stronger than before, or he moved more swiftly; Troy caught no last glimpse of him.
The Warmark found that he regretted Amok's appearance intensely.
Soon after that, the gathering of the Loresraat broke up. The Lorewardens and students of the Staff hurried away to begin analyzing what had happened, and Drinishok ordered all his students and fellow teachers away to the practice fields. Elena, Mhoram, and Amatin went with Corimini and Staff-Elder Asuraka to their main library. In moments, Troy, Covenant, and Bannor were the only people left in the bowl.
Troy felt that he should speak with Covenant; there were things that he needed to understand. But he feared that he would not be able to keep his temper, so he also moved away, leaving Bannor to help Covenant struggle off the net. He wanted to talk to the High Lord, ask her why she had made such a foolhardy offer to Amok. But he was not in command of his emotions. He climbed out of the viancome, and strode away along one of the boughs toward Drinishok's quarters.
In the Sword-Elder's larder, he ate a little bread and meat, and drank quantities of springwine in an,effort to dissipate the dark sensation of foreboding which Amok had given him. The idea that Elena might wander off somewhere with the youth, hunting for a cryptic and probably useless power when she was desperately needed elsewhere, made him grind his teeth in frustration. His heart groaned with a prescience that told him he was going to lose her. The Land was going to lose her. Searching for balance, he consumed a great deal of springwine. But it did not steady him; his brain reeled as if dangerous winds were buffeting him.
Early in the afternoon, he went in search of the Lords, but one of the Lorewardens soon told him that they were closeted with Asuraka, studying the lomillialor communication rods. So he descended to the ground, whistled for Mehryl, and rode away from Revelwood with Ruel at his side. He wanted to visit the grave of the student who had summoned him to the Land.