Steff muttered for them to take care and, with Teel in tow, dis-
appeared back into the dark. Morgan was rubbing his hands
briskly and breathing the air as if he might never have another
chance. They boarded the first lift and began their descent, pass-
ing wordlessly to the second and third, the winches creaking
eerily in the silence as they were lowered. When they reached
the floor of the Parma Key, they struck out into the misty forests,
Padishar Creel leading with Blue, the Valemen and the High-
lander in the middle, and the remaining two outlaws, Stasas and
Drutt, trailing. Within seconds, the rock wall of the Jut had
disappeared from view.
They traveled south for the better part of the day, turning west
around midaftemoon when they encountered the Mermidon.
They followed the river until sunset, staying on its north shore,
and camped that night just below the south end of the Kennon
Pass in the shadow of the Dragon’s Teeth. They found a cove
sheltered by cypress where a stream fed down out of the rocks
and provided them with drinking water. They built a fire, ate
their dinner, and sat back to watch the stars come out.
After a time, Stasas and Drutt went off to take the first watch,
one upstream, one down. Ciba Blue rolled into his blankets and
was asleep in moments, his youthful face looking even younger
in sleep. Padishar Creel sat with the Valemen and the High-
lander, poking at the fire with a stick while he sipped at a flask
of ale.
Par had been puzzling over their eventual destination all day,
and now he said abruptly to the outlaw chief, ‘ ‘We’re going to
Tyrsis, aren’t we?”
Padishar glanced over in surprise, then nodded. “No reason
you shouldn’t know now.”
“But why look for the Sword of Shannara in Tyrsis? It dis-
appeared from there over a hundred years ago when the Feder-
ation annexed Callahom. Why would it be back there now?”
The other smiled secretively. “Perhaps because it never left.”
Par and his companions stared at the outlaw chief in aston-
ishment.
“You see, the fact that the Sword of Shannara disappeared
doesn’t necessarily mean that it went anywhere. Sometimes a
thing can disappear and still be in plain sight. It can disappear
simply because it doesn’t look like what it used to. We see it,
but we don’t recognize it.”
“What are you saying?” Par asked slowly.
Padishar Creel’s smile broadened perceptibly. “I am saying
that the Sword of Shannara may very well be exactly where it
was three hundred years ago.”
“Locked away in a vault in the middle of the People’s Park
in Tyrsis all these years and no one’s figured it out?” Morgan
Leah was aghast. “How can that possibly be?”
Padishar sipped speculatively at his flask and said, “We’ll be
there by tomorrow. Why don’t we wait and see?”
Par Ohmsford was tired from the day’s march and last night’s
lack of sleep, but he was awake a long time, nevertheless, after
the others were already snoring. He couldn’t stop thinking about
what Padishar Creel had said. More than three hundred years
ago, after Shea Ohmsford had used it to destroy the Warlock
Lord, the Sword of Shannara had been embedded in a block of
red marble and entombed in a vault in the People’s Park in the
Southland city of Tyrsis. There it had remained until the coming
of the Federation into Callahom. It was common knowledge
that it had disappeared after that. If it hadn’t, why did so many
people believe it had? If it was right where it had been three
hundred years ago, how come no one recognized it now?
He considered. It was true that much of what had happened
during me time of Allanon had lost credibility; many of the tales
had taken on the trappings of legend and folklore. By the time
the Sword of Shannara disappeared, perhaps no one believed in
it anymore. Perhaps no one even understood what it could do.
But they at least knew it was there. It was a national monument,
for goodness sake! So how could they say it was gone if it wasn’t?
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