Was what he was being told true? Shades, was everything the
lie that Rimmer Dall claimed it to be? He could not believe it,
yet he could not bring himself to disbelieve i?«ither. His con-
fusion wrapped him like a blanket and left him feeling small
and vulnerable.
“I have to think,” he said wearily.
“Then come with me and do so,” Rimmer Dall responded
at once. “Come with me and we shall talk more of this. You
have many questions that require answers, and I can give them
to you. There is much you need to know about how the magic
can be used. Come, Valeman. Put aside your fears and misgiv-
ings. No harm shall come to you-never to one whose magic is
so promising.”
He spoke reassuringly, compellingly, and for an instant Par
was almost persuaded. It would have been so easy to agree. He
was tired, and he wanted this odyssey to end. It would be com-
forting to have someone to talk to about the frustrations of pos-
sessing the magic. Rimmer Dall would surely know, having
experienced them himself. As much as he hated to admit it, he
no longer felt threatened by the man. There seemed to be no
reason to deny what he was asking.
But he did nevertheless. He did without really understanding
why. “No,” he said quietly.
“Think of what we can share if you come with me,” the
other persisted. “We have so much in common! Surely you have
longed to talk of your magic, the magic you have been forced
to conceal. There has never been anyone for you to do that with
before me. I can feel the need in you; I can sense it! Come with
me! Valeman, you have …”
“No.”
Par stepped away. Something ugly whispered suddenly in his
mind, some memory that did not yet have a face, but whose
voice he clearly recognized.
Rimmer Dall watched him, his craggy features gone suddenly
hard. “This is foolish, Valeman.”
“I am leaving,” Par said quietly, tense now, back on his
guard. What was it that bothered him so? “And I am taking the
Sword.”
The black-cloaked form became another shadow in the half-
light. “Stay, Valeman. There are dark secrets kept from you,
things that would be better learned from me. Stay and hear
them.”
Par edged toward the passageway that had brought him in.
“The door is directly behind you,” Rimmer Dall said sud-
denly, his voice sharp. “There are no passageways, no stairs.
That was all illusion, my magic invoked to closet you long
enough so that we might talk. But if you leave now, something
precious will be destroyed. Truth waits for you, Valeman-and
there is horror in its face. You cannot withstand it. Stay, and
listen to me! You need me!”
Par shook his head. “You sounded for a moment, Rimmer
Dall, like those others, those Shadowen who look nothing like
you outwardly, yet speak with your need. Like them, you would
possess me.”
Rimmer Dall stood silently before him, not moving, simply
watching as he backed away. The light the First Seeker had
produced faded, and the chamber slid rapidly into darkness.
Par Ohmsford grasped the Sword of Shannara in both hands
and bolted for freedom.
Rimmer Dall had been right about the passageways and stairs.
There were none. It was all illusion, a magic Par should have
recognized at once. He burst from the blackness of the vault
directly into the gray half-light of the Pit. The damp and mist
closed about him instantly. He blinked and whirled about,
searching.
Coil.
Where was Coil?
He stripped the cloak from his back and wrapped it hurriedly
about the Sword of Shannara. Allanon had said he would need
it-if Allanon was still to be believed. At the moment, he didn’t
know. But the Sword should be cared for; it must have purpose.
Unless it had lost its magic. Could it have lost its magic?
“Par.”
The Valeman jumped, startled by the voice. It was right be-
hind him, so close that it might have been a whisper in his ear
if not for the harshness of its sound. He turned.
And there was Coil.