Talismans of Shannara by Terry Brooks

“That, too. You need each’other. I’ve watched you, Matty—

you and Morgan. I’ve seen the way you look at him when he

doesn’t see. I’ve seen how he looks at you. There is more be-

tween you than you realize.”

The tall girl shook her head. “No.”

“You care about him, don’t you? ”

‘That’s not the same. That’s different.”

Damson watched her for a moment without saying anything.

Matty’s gaze was fixed on a point in space somewhere be-

tween them, the cobalt eyes depthless and still. She was seeing

something no one else could see.

When she looked up again, her eyes were empty and sad.

“He’s still in love with Quickening.”

Damson nodded slowly. “I suppose he is.”

“He will always be in love with her.”

“Maybe so, Matty. But Quickening is dead.”

“It doesn’t matter. Have you heard how he speaks of her?

She was beautiful and magic, and she was in love with him,

too.” The blue eyes blinked. “It’s too hard to try to compete

with that.”

“You don’t have to. ft’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

“He will forget her in time. He won’t be able to help it.”

“No, he won’t. Not ever. He won’t let himself.”

Damson sighed and looked away. The night was deep and

still about them, hushed with expectation. “He needs you,” she

whispered finally, not knowing what else to say. She looked

back again. “Quickening is gone, Matty, and Morgan Lean

needs you.”

They stared at each other in the darkness, measuring the

troth of the words, weighing their strength. Neither spoke.

Then Matty rose and looked back across the grassland toward

the cabin. “We have to go down for a look.”

The Talismans of Shannara 355

“I’ll go.” Damson rose with her. “You wait here.”

Matty took her arm. “Why not me? ”

“Because I know what Par looks like and you don’t.”

“Then both of us should go.”

“And put both at risk? ” Damson held the other girl’s eyes.

“You know better.”

Matty stared at her defensively for a moment, then released

her arm. “You’re right. I’ll wait here. But be careful.”

Damson smiled, turned, and supped away into the dark. She

moved easily down the wash until she was north of the cabin.

Lamplight burned from within, a yellowish wash through the

shutterless side windows and open front door. She paused,

thinking. The sound of the men’s voices came from within, but

the red glow of a pipe bowl and the smell of tobacco warned

that the sentry still occupied the porch steps. She watched the

dark shapes of the mules shifting on the line next to the cabin

wall, then heard the sound of breaking glass and swearing in-

side. The men were drinking and arguing.

She moved on down the wash to the forest and came around

behind the cabin, intent on approaching from the south wall,

afraid the animals might give her away if she went in from the

north. Clouds glided like phantoms overhead, changing the in-

tensity of the light as they passed across moon and stais. Dam-

son edged along the fringe of the trees, lost in shadow, placing

her feet carefully even though the voices and laughter likely

would drown out other sounds. When she was behind the cabin,

she left the trees and came swiftly to (he rear wall, then inched

along the back and started forward toward the south window.

She could hear the voces plainly now, could sense their anger

and menace. Hard men, these, and no mistake about it.

She moved to the window in a crouch, rose up carefully, and

looked inside.

Coil Ohmsford lay at the back of the musty, weathered cabin

and listened to the men arguing as they rolled dice for coins.

He was wrapped in a blanket and had turned himself toward

the wall. His hands and feet were chained together and to a

ring they had hammered into the boards. They had given him

food and water and then forgotten about him. Which was just

as well, he thought wearily, given their present unpleasant state

356 The Talismans of Shannara

of mind. Drinking and gambling had turned them meaner man

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