Morgan Lean. The winds fronting the storm had pushed them
swiftly across the lake, and the storm itself had not caught
them until they were almost to the far shore. Then they had
been swept away, buffeted so badly they had capsized east of
the Mist Marsh and been forced to swim to shore. They had
escaped with the better part of their supplies in tow, water-
logged and weary, and had slept the night in a grove of ash
that offered little shelter from the damp. They had walked from
there south, drawn on by the Skree’s light, searching for some
sign of Par Ohmsford. There had been none until the wagon
tracks, and now the men who had made them.
“I don’t like it,” Many Roh said softly.
Damson Rhee took out the broken half of the Skree, cupped
it in her hand, and held it out toward the cabin. It burned Hke
copper fire, bright and steady. She looked at Many. “He’s there.”
The other nodded. Her clothing was rumpled from wear and
weather and torn by brambles and rocks, and washing it had
cleaned it but not improved its appearance. Her boyish face
was sun-browned and sweat-streaked, and her brow furrowed
as she considered the glowing half moon of metal.
“We’ll need a closer look,” she said. “After it gets dark.”
Damson nodded. Her red hair was braided and tied back
with a band about her forehead, and her clothing was a mirror
of Matty’s. She was tired and hungry for a hot meal and in
The Talismans of Shannara 353
need of a bath, but she knew she would have to do without all
of them for now.
They eased back along the wash to where they had left their
gear and settled down to eat some fruit and cheese and dnnk
some water. Neither spoke as the meal was consumed and the
shadows lengthened. Darkness closed about, the moon and stars
came out, and the air cooled so that it was almost pleasant. They
were very unlike each other, these two. Damson was fiery and
outgoing and certain of what she was about; Matty was cool and
aloof and believed nothing should be taken for granted. What
bound them beyond their common enterprise was an iron deter-
mination forged out of years of working to stay alive in the ser-
vice of the free-born. Three days alone together searching for
Par Ohmsford had fostered a mutual respect. They had known
lime of each other when they had started out and in truth knew
little still. But what they did know was enough to convince each
that she could depend on the other when it counted.
“Damson.” Matty Roh spoke her name suddenly. The si-
lence had deepened, and she whispered. “Do you know how
you sometimes find yourself in the middle of something and
wonder how it happened? ” She seemed almost embarrassed.
“That’s how I feel right now. I’m here, but I’m not sure why.”
Damson eased close. “Do you wish you were somewhere
else? ”
“I don’t know. No, I suppose not.” Her lips pursed. “But
I’m confused about what I’m doing here. I know why I came,
but I don’t understand what made me decide to do it.”
“Maybe the reason isn’t important. Maybe being here is all
that counts.”
Matty shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Maybe it’s not all that difficult to figure out. I’m here be-
cause of Par. Because I promised him I would come.”
“Because you’re in love with him.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t even know him.”
“But you know Morgan.”
Matty sighed. “I know him better than he knows himself.
But I’m not in love with him.” She paused. “I don’t think.”
She looked away, distressed by the admission. “I came because
I was bored with standing around. That was what I told the
354 The Talismans of Shannara
Highlander. It was true. But I came for something more. I just
don’t know what it is.”
“I think it might be Morgan Lean.”
“It isn’t.”
“I think you need him.”
“I need him? ” Matty was incredulous. “It’s the other way
around, don’t you think? He needs me!”