life in perfect order and to order the life around me. You have
seen this valley; my mother’s people made it that way and I have
learned to keep it. I have Rumor for company and occasionally
the old man. Once in a while, I even visit with those from the
outside. Darklin Reach has become a haven for me and Hearth-
stone my home.”
He bent forward, his face intense. “I have the magic. Par-
different from yours, but real nevertheless. I can tell what others
are thinking sometimes, even when they are far away. I can
communicate with life in ways that others cannot. All forms of
life. I can disappear sometimes, just like the moor cat. I can
even summon power!” He snapped his fingers suddenly, and a
brief spurt of blue fire appeared on his fingers. He snuffed it
out. “I lack the magic of the wishsong, but apparently some of
its power has taken root inside me. Some of what I know is
innate; some is self-taught; some was taught to me by others.
But I have all I need, and I wish no more. I am comfortable here
and will never leave. Let the world get on as best it can without
me. It always did so before.”
Par struggled to respond. “But what if the dream is right,
Walker?” he asked finally.
Walker Boh laughed derisively. “Par! The dreams are never
right! Have you not paid heed to your own stories? Whether they
manifest themselves as they have this time or as they did when
Allanon was alive, one fact remains unchanged-the Ohmsfords
are never told everything, only what the Druids deem neces-
sary!”
“You think that we are being used.” Par made it a statement
of fact.
“I think I would be a fool to believe anything else! I do not
trust what I am being told.” The other’s eyes were as hard as
stone. “The magic you insist on regarding as a gift has always
been little more than a useful tool to the Druids. I do not intend
to let myself be put to whatever new task they have discovered.
If the world needs saving as these dreams suggest, let Allanon
or the old man go out and save it!”
There was a long moment of silence as the two measured
each other. Par shook his head slowly. “You surprise me,
Walker. I don’t remember the bitterness or the anger from be-
fore.”
Walker Boh smiled sadly. “It was there. Par. It was always
there. You just didn’t bother to look for it.”
“Shouldn’t it be gone by now?”
His uncle kept silent.
“So you are decided on this matter, are you?”
“Yes, Par. I am.”
Par took a deep breath. “What will you do, Walker, if the
things in the dream come to pass? What will become of your
home then? What will happen if the evil the dream showed us
decides to come looking for you?”
His uncle said nothing, but the steady gaze never wavered.
Par nodded slowly. “I have a different view of matters from
yours. Walker,” he said softly. “I have always believed that the
magic was a gift, and that it was given to me for a reason. It
appeared for a long time that it was meant to be used to tell the
stories, to keep them from being forgotten completely. I have
changed my mind about that. I think now that the magic is meant
for something more.”
He shifted, straightening himself because he was feeling sud-
denly small in the presence of the other. “Coil and I cannot go
back to the Vale because the Federation has found out about the
magic and is hunting for us. The old man, Cogline, says there
may be other things hunting us as well-perhaps even Shad-
owen. Have you see the Shadowen? I have. Coil and I are
scared to death. Walker, though we don’t talk about it much.
The funny thing is, I think the things hunting us are scared, too.
It’s the magic that scares them.” He paused. “I don’t know why
that is, but I mean to find out.”
There was a flicker of surprise in Walker Boh’s eyes. Par