let me go,” he insisted.
“Oh, no, not this time.” The big man shook his head and his
smile was a twitch at the comers of his mouth. “I did so be-
fore, and you almost destroyed yourself. I won’t be so foolish
again. This time we will try my way. We will talk, visit, ex-
plore, discover, and hopefully leam. After that, you can go.”
Par shook his head angrily. “I don’t want to talk or visit or
any of the rest. There’s nothing to talk about.” He glared. “If
you try to hold me, I will use the wishsong.”
Rimmer Dall nodded. “Go ahead, use it.” He paused. “But
remember what the magic is doing to you.”
Changing me. Par thought in recognition of the warning’s
import. Each time I use it, it changes me farther. Each time, I
298 The Talismans of Shannarc.
lose a little more control. I try not to let that happen, but I
can’t seem to prevent it. And I don’t know what the conse-
quences will be, but they do not feel as if they will be pleasant
“I am not a Shadowen,” he said dully.
Rimmer Dall’s gaze was flat and steady. “It is only a word.
“I don’t care. I am not.”
The First Seeker rose and walked over to the window. He
stared out at the night, ‘distracted and distant. “I used to be
bothered by who I was and what I was called,” he said. “I con-
sidered myself a freak, a dangerous aberration. But I learned
that was wrong. It was not what other people thought of me
that mattered; it was what I thought of myself. If I allowed
myself to be shaped by other people’s opinions, I would be-
come what they wished me to become.”
He turned back to Par. “The Shadowen are being destroyed
without reason. We are being blamed without cause. We have
magic that can help in many ways, and we are not being al-
lowed to use it. Ask yourself. Par—how is it any different for
you? ”
Par was suddenly exhausted, weighed down by the impact
of what had happened to him and his confusion over what it
might mean. Rimmer Dall was calm and smooth and unshak-
able. His arguments were persuasive. Par could not think how
the First Seeker had lied. He could not focus on when he had
tried to cause harm. It had always seemed that he was the
enemy—and Allanon and Cogline had said so—but where was
the proof of it? Where, for that matter, were the Druid and the
old man? Where was anyone who could help him?
His memory of the dream haunted him. How much truth had
the dream told?
He turned back to the bed from which he had risen and sat
down again. It seemed as if nothing had gone right for him
from the moment he had accepted Allanon’s charge to recover
the Sword of Shannara. Not even the Sword itself had proved
to be of any use. He was alone and abandoned and helpless.
He did not know what to do.
“Why not sleep a bit more,” Rimmer Dall suggested quietly.
He was already moving for the door. “I’ll have food and drink
sent up to you in a little while, and we can talk again later.”
He was through the door and gone almost before Par
The Talismans of Shannara 299
thought to look up. The Valeman rose quickly to stop him,
then sat down again. The spinning sensation had returned. His
body felt weak and leaden. Perhaps he should sleep again. Per-
haps he would be able to reason things through better if he did.
Shadowen. Shadowen.
Was it possible that he was?
He curled up on the pallet and drifted away.
He dreamed again, and this second dream was a variation of
the first, dark and terrifying. He woke in a sweat, shaking and
raw-nerved, and saw daylight brightening the skies through his
windows. Pood and drink were brought by a black-robed, si-
lent Shadowen, and he thought for a moment to smash the
creature with his magic and flee. But he hesitated, uncertain of