sort, combatants for control of the magic, Shadowen and Druid,
both fighting to fill that void that had been created at AUanon’s
death, that vacuum left by the fading of the last real magic.
Was that possible?
Par’s brow furrowed. He ran his fingers along the Sword’s
pommel and down the bindings of the scabbard.
Why was the truth so difficult to discover?
He found himself wondering what had become of all the
others who had started out on the journey to the Hadeshom.
Steff and Teel were dead. Morgan was missing. Where was
Cogline? What had become of him after the meeting with
Allanon and the giving of the charges? Par found himself
wishing suddenly that he could speak with the old man about
the Sword. Surely Cogline would be able to make some sense
of all this. And what of Wren and that giant Rover? What of
Walker Boh? Had they changed their minds and gone on to
fulfill their charges as he had?
As he thought he had.
His eyes, staring into the space before him, lowered again to
the Sword. There was one thing more. Now that he had posses-
sion of the blade—perhaps—what was he supposed to do with
it? Giving AUanon the benefit of the doubt on who was good
and who was bad and whether Par was doing the right thing,
what purpose was the Sword of Shannara supposed to serve?
The Talismans of Shannara 25
What truth was it supposed to reveal?
He was sick of questions without answers, of secrets being
kept from him, of lies and twisted half-truths that circled him
like scavengers waiting to feast. If he could break just a single
link of this chain of uncertainty and confusion that bound him,
if he could sever but a single tie …
The door slipped open across the room, and Padishar ap-
peared through the opening. ‘There you are,” he announced
cheerfully. “Rested, I hope? ”
Par nodded, the Sword still balanced on his knees. Padishar
glanced down at it as he crossed the room. Par let his grip
loosen. “What time is it? ” he asked.
“Midday. The Mole hasn’t come back. I went out because I
thought I might be able to leam something about Damson on
my own. Ask a few questions. Poke my nose in a few holes.”
He shook his head. “It was a waste of time. If the Federation
has her, they’re keeping it quiet.”
He slumped down on the sofa, looking worn and discour-
aged, “If he isn’t back by nightfall, I’ll go out again.”
Par leaned forward. “Not without me.”
Padishar glanced at him and grunted. “I suppose not. Well,
Valeman, perhaps we can at least avoid another trip down into
the Pit …”
He stopped, aware suddenly of what that implied, then
looked away uncomfortably. Par lifted the Sword of Shannara
from his knees and placed it next to him on the floor. “She
told me that you were her father, Padishar.”
The big man stared at him wordlessly for a moment, then
smiled faintly. “Love seems to cause all sons of foolish talk.”
He rose and walked to the table. “I’ll have something to eat
now, I think.” He wheeled about abruptly, and his voice was as
hard as stone. “Don’t ever repeat what you just said. Not to
anyone. Ever.”
He waited until Par nodded, then turned his attention to put-
ting together a meal. He ate from the same scraps of food as
the Valeman, adding a bit of dried beef he scavenged from a
food locker. Par watched him without comment, wondering
how long father and daughter had kept their secret, thinking
how hard it must have been for both of them. Padishar’s chis-
26 The Talismans of Shannara
eled features lowered into shadow as he ate, but his eyes glit-
tered like bits of white fire.
When he was finished, he faced Par once more. “She
promised—she swore—never to tell anyone.”
Par looked down at his clasped hands. “She told me be-
cause we both needed to have some reason to trust the other.
We were sharing secrets to gain that trust. It was right before