and considered what lay ahead. Today was a hot, sultry expec-
tation that shimmered through the dappled shadows of the
leaves and branches, and it might take him anywhere. The past
was a reminder of the vicissitudes of life, chance playing off
opportunity and giving back what she would. The hardships
and losses that Morgan had experienced had tempered him like
iron run through the fire, and a vacuum had formed around
him that he did not think anything would ever get past again,
a dead place where hurt and disappointment and fear could not
survive, a shield that let him keep everything away so that he
might go on when sometimes he did not think he could. The
problem, of course, was that it kept other things away as
well—hope and caring and love among them. He could admit
266
The Talismans of Shannara 267
them when he chose, but there was always the danger that the
other feelings would come in as well. When you let in one,
you always risked letting in the others. It was his legacy from
Steff and Quickening, from the Jut and Eldwist, from Druid
wraiths and Shadowen. It was a truth that haunted him.
He brushed aside the musings and speculation, finished off
his meal, and stood and stretched.
“Ready? ” Damson Rhee asked. She was flushed from cold
water splashed on her skin, and her fiery hair was brushed out
so that it shone. She was pretty and vital and filled with a de-
termination that radiated like heat from a flame. Morgan
looked at her and thought again how lucky Par was to have
someone like that in love with him.
Many Ron finished washing off her plate and handed it over
to Damson to pack. “Where do we go from here? ” she asked
in her customarily blunt fashion. “How do we go about finding
Par Ohmsford? ”
Damson shoved the plate in with the others. “We track
him.” She tightened the stays on the pack and stood up. “With
this.”
She reached down inside her tunic front and pulled out what
looked to be half of a medallion threaded on a leather thong.
Morgan and Matty bent close. The medallion—a metal disk,
actually—had no markings or insignia, and the jagged sharp-
ness of the straight edge indicated that it had been broken re-
cently.
“It is called a Skree,” Damson explained, holding it up to
the light where it gleamed a copper gold. “I gave the other half
to Par when we separated. The disk was fashioned out of one
metal, one forging, and can only be used once. The halves
draw the holders to each other. They give off light when they
are brought close.”
Matty Roh looked skeptical. “How close do you have to
be? ” Her black hair was short and straight about her elfin face,
and her eyes were deep and searching. She looked fresh-
scrubbed and new—younger than she was, Morgan thought,
and nothing of who she could be.
Damson smiled. “The Skree is a street magic. I have seen it
work; I know what it can do.” The smile tightened. “Shall we
try it out? ”
268 The Talismans of Shannon”
She held it outstretched in her palm and faced west, north,
and then east. The Skree did nothing. Damson glanced at them
quickly. “He was traveling south,” she explained. “I saved that
for last.”
She pointed her hand south. The coppery face of the Skree
might have pulsed faintly, but Morgan really wasn’t sure.
Damson, however, nodded iR satisfaction.
“He’s a long way away, it seems.” Her smile was hesitant as
she let her eyes meet theirs. “You have to know how to read
it.” She stuffed the disk back inside her tunic. “We had better
start walking.”
She reached down for her pack and swung it over her shoul-
ders. Matty Roh gave Morgan a sideways glance and a shake
of her head that said. Did you see something I missed? Morgan
shrugged. He wasn’t sure.
They set out into the heat, following the Mermidon on its
winding path east toward Varfleet, keeping as much as they
could to the shade of the trees. A breeze blew off the water