you did. Thank you.”
“No need for thanks.”
Par nodded again. “That woman, or whatever she was-she
seemed frightened of you.” He didn’t make it a question, he
made it a statement of fact.
The old man shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Do you know her?”
“I know of her.”
Par hesitated, uncertain whether to press the matter or not.
He decided to let it drop. “So. Why are you looking for us?”
“Oh, that’s rather a long story, I’m afraid,” the old man
answered, sounding very much as if the effort required to tell it
was entirely beyond him. “I don’t suppose we might sit down
while we talk about it? The fire’s warmth provides some relief
for these ageing bones. And you wouldn’t happen to have a
touch of ale, would you? No? Pity. Well, I suppose there was
no chance to procure such amenities, the way you were hustled
out of Varfleet. Lucky to escape with your skins under the cir-
cumstances.”
He ambled in close and lowered himself gingerly to the grass,
folding his legs before him, draping his gray robes carefully
about. “Thought I’d catch up with you there, you know. But
then that disruption by the Federation occurred, and you were
on your way south before I could stop you.”
He reached for a cup and dipped it into the water bucket,
drinking deeply. Coil was sitting up now, watching, the damp
cloth still held to the side of his head. Par sat down next to him.
The old man finished his water and wiped his mouth on his
sleeve. “Allanon sent me,” he declared perfunctorily.
There was a long silence as the Ohmsford brothers stared first
at him, then at each other, then back again at him.
“Allanon?” Par repeated.
“Allanon has been dead for three hundred years,” Coil in-
terjected bluntly.
The old man nodded. “Indeed. I misspoke: It was actually
Allanon’s ghost, his shade-but Allanon, still, for all intents and
purposes.”
“Allanon’s shade?” Coil took the cloth from the side of his
head, his injury forgotten. He did not bother to hide his disbe-
lief.
The old man rubbed his bearded chin. “Now, now, you will
have to be patient for a moment or two until I’ve had a chance
to explain. Much of what I am going to tell you will be hard for
you to accept, but you must try. Believe me when I tell you that
it is very important.”
He rubbed his hands briskly in the direction of the fire.
“Think of me as a messenger for the moment, will you? Think
of me as a messenger sent by Allanon, for that’s all I am to you
just now. You, Par. Why have you been ignoring the dreams?”
Par stiffened. “You know about that?”
‘ ‘The dreams were sent by Allanon to bring you to him. Don’t
you understand? That was his voice speaking to you, his shade
come to address you. He summons you to the Hadeshom-you,
your cousin Wren, and …”
“Wren?” Coil interrupted, incredulous.
The old man looked perturbed. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?
Am I going to have to repeat everything? Your cousin, Wren
Ohmsford. And Walker Boh as well.”
“Uncle Walker,” Par said softly. “I remember.”
Coil glanced at his brother, then shook his head in disgust.
‘ ‘This is ridiculous. No one knows where either of them is!” he
snapped. “Wren lives somewhere in the Wesdand with the Rov-
ers. She lives out of the back of a wagon! And Walker Boh hasn’t
been seen by anyone for almost ten years. He might be dead,
for all we know!”
“He might, but he isn’t,” the old man said testily. He gave
Coil a meaningful stare, then returned his gaze to Par. “All of
you are to come to the Hadeshom by the close of the present
moon’s cycle. On the first night of the new moon, Allanon will
speak with you there.”
Par felt a chill go through him. “About magic?”
Coil seized his brother’s shoulders. “About Shadowen?” he
mimicked, widening his eyes.
The old man bent forward suddenly, his face gone hard.
“About what he chooses! Yes, about magic! And about Shad-
owen! About creatures like the one that knocked you aside just