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ried under snow to see her face。 All along both sides of the plain hundreds of fires had been lit all night； as men and women of the realm waited sleeplessly while he wrested their fates； moment by moment； out of the passing hours。 They nursed their wounded and wondered if they would survive the passage of power from the High One to his heir。 At last； he gave them dawn。
It came as a single eye staring at him through white mist。 He drew back into himself； his hands full of winds。 He was alone on a quiet plain。 The Earth…Masters had shifted their battleground eastward； moving across Ruhn。 He stood quietly a moment； wondering if he had lived through a single night or a century of them。 Then he turned his mind away from the night to scent the path of the Earth…Masters。
They had fled across Ruhn。 Towns and farms； lords' houses lay in ruins； fields； woods； and orchards had been harrowed and seared with power。 Men； children； animals trapped in the range of their minds had been killed。 As his awareness moved across the wasteland； he felt a harp song building through bun。 Winds in his control stirred to it； angry； dangerous； pulling him out of his shape until he was half…man； half…wind； a harpist playing a death song on a harp with no strings。
Then he roused all the power that lay buried under the great cities across Ymris。 He had sensed it in the High One's mind； and he knew at last why the Earth…Masters had warred for possession of their cities。 They were all cairns； broken monuments to their dead。 The power had lain dormant under the earth for thousands of years。 But； as with the wraiths of An； their minds could be roused with memory； and Morgon； his mind burrowing under the stones； shocked them awake with his grief。 He did not see them。 But on Wind Plain and King's Mouth Plain； in the ruins across Ruhn and east Umber； a power gathered； hung over the stones like the eerie； unbearable tension in the sky before a storm breaks。 The tension was felt in Caerweddin and in towns still surviving around the ruins。 No one spoke that dawn； they waited。
Morgon began to move across Wind Plain。 An army of the Earth…Masters' dead moved with him； flowed across Ymris； searching out the living Earth…Masters to finish a war。 Winds hounded the Earth…Masters out of the shape of stone and leaf they hid in； the dead forced them with a silent； relentless purpose out of the land they had once loved。 They scattered across the back lands； through wet； dark forests； across bare hills； across the icy surfaces of the Lungold Lakes。 Morgon； the winds running before him； the dead at his back； pursued them across the threshold of winter。 He drove them as inflexibly as they had once driven him toward Erlenstar Mountain。
They tried to fight him one last time before he pelled them into the mountain。 But the dead rose around him like stone； and the winds raged against them。 He could have destroyed them； stripped them of their power； as they had tried to do to him。 But something of their beauty lingered in Raederle； showing him what they might have been once； and he could not kill them。 He did not even touch their power。 He forced them into Erlenstar Mountain； where they fled from him into the shape of water and jewel。 He sealed the entire Mountain … all shafts and hidden springs； the surface of the earth； and ground floor of rock … with his name。 Among trees and stones； light and wind； around the mountain； he bound the dead once more； to guard the mountain。 Then he loosed the winds from his song； and they drew winter down from the northlands across the whole of the realm。
XXI
HE RETURNED TO WIND PLAIN； THEN； DRAWN BY MEMORY。 There was snow all over the plain and on all the jagged； piled faces of the stones。 There was smoke among the trees around the plain； for no one had left it。 The gathering of men； women； animals was still there； waiting for his return。 They had buried their dead and sent for supplies； they were settling for the winter； bound to the plain。
Morgon took his shape out of the winds； beside the ruined tower。 He heard the Morgol talking to Goh； he saw Har checking the splint on a crippled vesta。 He did not know if Eliard was still alive。 Looking up at the huge cairn； he stepped forward into his sorrow。 He laid his face against one of the cold； beautiful stones； stretched his arms across it； wanting to enpass the entire cairn； hold it in his heart。 He felt bound； suddenly； as if he were a wraith； and all his past was buried in those stones。 As he mourned； men began to move across the plain。 He saw them without thinking about them in his mind's eye： tiny figures drawn across the blank； snow…covered plain。 When he finally turned； he found them in a silent ring around him。
They had been drawn to him； he sensed； the way be had always been drawn to Deth： with no reason； no question； simply instinct。 The land…rulers of the realm； the four wizards stood quietly with him。 They did not know what to say to him as he stood there in his power and his grief； they were simply responding to something in him that had brought peace to the ancient plain。
He looked at the faces he knew so well。 They were scarred with sorrow for the High One； for their own dead。 Finding Eliard among them； he felt something quicken painfully in his heart。 Eliard's face was as he had never seen it： colorless and hard as winter ground。 A third of the farmers of Hed had been sent back to Hed； to be buried beneath the frozen ground。 The winter would be hard for the living； and Morgon did not know how to fort him。 But as he looked at Morgon mutely； something else came into his eyes that had never been in the changeless； stolid heritage of the Princes of Hed： he had been touched by mystery。
Morgon's eyes moved to Astrin。 He seemed still dazed by Heureu's death and the sudden； far…flung power he possessed。 〃I'm sorry；〃 Morgon said。 The words sounded as light and meaningless as the snow flecking the massive stones behind him。 〃I felt him die。 But I couldn't。。。 I couldn't help him。 I felt so much death。。。〃
The single white eye seemed to gaze into him at the word。 〃You're alive；〃 he whispered。 〃High One。 You survived to name yourself at last； and you brought peace to this morning。〃
〃Peace。〃 He felt the stones behind him； cold as ice。
〃Morgon；〃 Danan said softly； 〃when we saw that tower fall； none of us expected to see another dawn。〃
〃So many didn't。 So many of your miners died。〃
〃So many didn't。 I have a great mountain full of trees； you gave it back to us； our home to return to。〃
〃We have lived to see the passage of power from the High One to his heir；〃 Har said。 〃We paid a price for our seeing； but。。。 we survived。〃 His eyes were oddly gentle in the pure； cold light。 He shifted the cloak over his shoulders： an old； gnarled king； with the first memories of the realm in his heart。 〃You played a wondrous game and won。 Don't grieve for the High One。 He was old and near the end of his power。 He left you a realm at war； an almost impossible heritage； and all his hope。 You did not fail him。 Now we can return home in peace； without having to fear the stranger at our thresholds。 When the door opens unexpectedly to the winter winds； and we look up from our warm hearths to find the High One in our house； it will be you。 He left us that gift。〃
Morgon was silent。 Sorrow touched him again； lightly； like a searching flame； in spite of all their words。 Then he felt from one of them an answering sorrow that no words could fort。 He sought it； something of himself； and found it in Mathom； tired and shadowed by death。
Morgon took a step toward him。 〃Who？〃
〃Duac；〃 the King said。 He drew a dry breath； standing dark as a wraith against the snow。 〃He refused to stay in An。。。 the only argument I have ever lost。 My land…heir with his eyes of the sea。。。〃
Morgon was mute again； wondering how many of his bindings had been broken； how many deaths he had not sensed。 He said suddenly； remembering； 〃You knew the High One would die here。〃
〃He named himself；〃 Mathom said。 〃I did not need to dream that。 Bury him here； where he chose to die。 Let h