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〃Yes； I know；〃 Troy sighed。 A sudden weariness flooded over him； and he could barely hear his own voice。 He had already fallen a long way since he had left Revelstone。 Miscalculations denuded his ideas of all their vitality； divested them of their power to save。 He wondered how many other things he would have torn from him before this war was done。 A long moment passed before he could find enough energy to say； 〃There's one more thing。 It's got to be done we don't have any choice anymore。 We've got to leave some people behind。 To try to hold the Retreat make Fleshharrower think we're still here…slow him down。 It'll be suicide； so we'll need volunteers。 Two or three Eoward should be enough to make it work。〃
Quaan and Amorine took this stolidly； they were warriors； familiar with this kind of thinking。 But before Troy could say anything else； Lord Verement sprang into the circle。 〃No！〃 he barked； striking the ground with his staff。 〃None will be left behind。 I forbid it！〃
Now Troy could see him clearly。 His lean face looked as sharp as if it had been taken to a grindstone； and his eyes flamed keenly。 Troy's throat felt abruptly bone…dry。 With difficulty； he said； 〃Lord Verement； I'm sorry。 I've got no choice。 This march'll kill the warriors unless they can go more slowly。 So somebody has got to gain them time。〃
〃Then I will do it！〃 Verement's tone was raw。 〃I will hold Doom's Retreat。 It is a fit place for me。〃
〃You can't；〃 Troy objected； almost stammering。 〃I can't let you。 I'll need you with me。〃 Unable to bear the force of Verement's gaze； he turned to Lord Mhoram for help。
〃Warmark Troy speaks truly；〃 Mhoram said carefully。 〃Death will not heal your grief。 And you will
be sorely needed in the days ahead。 You must e with us。〃 ；
〃By the Seven！〃 Verement cried。 〃Do you not hear me？ I have said that I will remain！ Shetra my wife is lost！ She whom I loved with all my strength； and yet did not love enough。 Melenkurion！ Do not speak to me of cannot or must！ I will remain。 No warriors will be left behind。〃
Mhoram cut in； 〃Lord Verement； do you believe that you are able to defeat Fleshharrower？〃
But Verement did not reply to that question。 〃Heal Callindrill；〃 he said harshly。 〃I will require you both。 And call the Bloodguard from the Plains。 I start at dawn。〃 Then he swung away； and stalked out of the circle into the night。
His departure left Troy bewildered and exhausted。 He felt that the burden of the Warward already clung to his shoulders； bent his back so that he moved as if he were decrepit。 His confused fatigue made him unfit for speeches； and he dismissed the Hafts abruptly。 As he did so； he felt that he was failing them…that they needed him to lead them； give them a strong figure around which they could rally。 But he had no strength。 He went to his blankets as if he hoped that some kind of fortitude would e to him in a dream。
He sank at once into exhaustion； and slept until
sleep was no longer possible for him until the sun
rise above the mountains filled his brain with shapes
and colors。 When he arose； he discovered that he had
slept through all the noise of the Warward as it broke
camp and began its march。 Already the last Eoward
were shambling away from Doom's Retreat。 They
trudged as if they were maimed into the dry； heat
pale land of the Southron Wastes。
Cursing dully at his weakness； he grabbed a few bites of the food Ruel offered him； then hurried away toward the Retreat。
There he found Callindrill and Mhoram； with a small group of Bloodguard。 On either side of the defile's southern end； the Lords had climbed as high as they could up the scree into the jumbled boulders piled against the canyon walls。 From these positions； they
plied their staffs in a way that cast a haze across the air between them。
Beyond them； in Doom's Retreat itself； Lord Verement clambered over the rocks and fallen shale。 As he moved； he waved the fire of his staff like a torch against the darkness of the cliffs。 Only Thomin acpanied him。
Troy looked closely at Callindrill。 The wounded Lord looked wan and tired； and sweat glistened on his pale forehead； but he stood on his own； and wielded his staff firmly。 Troy saluted him； then climbed the scree on the other side to join Lord Mhoram。
When he reached Mhoram； he sat and watched while the haze moved and took shape。 It appeared to revolve slowly like a large wheel standing in the end of the Retreat。 Its circumference fitted just within the scree and stone； so that it effectively blocked the canyon floor； and it turned as if it were hanging on a pivot between Mhoram and Callindrill。 Beyond it； Troy could see only the empty Retreat…the raven cleaned bones of the ur…viles and wolves…and the lone Lord struggling up and down the sides of the canyon with his flame bobbing like a will…o'…the…wisp。
Soon； however； both Mhoram and Callindrill ended their exertions。 They planted their staffs like anchors in the edges of the haze； and leaned back to rest。 Lord Mhoram greeted Troy tiredly。
After a moment's hesitation； Troy nodded toward Verement。 〃What's he doing？〃
Mhoram closed his eyes； and said as if he were answering Troy； 〃We have made a Word of Warning。〃
While he was thinking of ways to rephrase his question； Troy asked； 〃What does it do？〃
〃It seals Doom's Retreat。〃
〃How will it work？ I can see it。 It won't take Fleshharrower by surprise。〃
〃Your sight is keen in some ways。 I cannot see the Word。〃
Awkwardly； Troy asked； 〃Is there anyone still out there…besides Verement？〃
〃No。 All the warriors have left。 The scouts have
been recalled。 None may pass this way now without encountering the Word。〃
〃So he's mitted himself…he's stuck out there。〃
〃Yes。〃 Mhoram bit at the word angrily。
Troy returned to his first question。 〃What does he hope to gain？ It's suicide。〃
Mhoram opened his eyes； and Troy felt the force of the Lord's gaze。 〃We will gain time；〃 Mhoram said。 〃You spoke of a need for time。〃 Then he sighed and looked away down the canyon。 〃And Lord Verement Shetra…mate will gain an end to anguish。〃
Numbly； Troy watched Verement。 The hawkish Lord did not look like a man in search of relief。 He threw himself up and down in the tumbled edges of the defile； kicked his way through the shale and the fleshless bones and the watchful silence of the ravens； as if he were possessed。 And he was exhausting himself。 Already his stride was unsteady； and he had fallen several times。 Yet he had covered less than a third of Doom's Retreat with the invisible skein of his fire。 But some power； some relentless coercion of will； kept him going。 Throughout the morning； he continued his weird progress along the canyon； stopping only at rare moments to accept water and treasureberries from Thomin。 By midmorning； he was half done。
Now； however； he could no longer keep up his pace。 He had to lean on Thomin as he stumbled up into the rocks and down again； and his staff's fire guttered and smoked。 A few ravens dropped out of their high nests and sailed around him as if to see how much longer he would endure。 But he went on； the force which blazed in him did not waver。
In the end； he was pelled to leave the last yards o