Now, run!”
He spun her about and shoved her up the stairwell. They
raced up the steps, listening to the sounds of pursuit grow
closer. Par’s face was grim with purpose. If the Mole had be-
trayed them, they were finished whichever way they ran. If he
had not, then their only chance was to find him.
They reached the next landing, and Par cast about in vain
for the hidden door. He could not remember where it was; he
hadn’t paid that much attention when he had come through.
Now everything looked the same.
“Mole!” he shouted in desperation.
Immediately the wall split apart to his left, and the Mole’s
furry face peered out. “Here! Here, lovely Damson!” he called
frantically.
They hurried through the opening, and the Mole pushed the
wall closed behind them. “Padishar? ” he inquired anxiously,
and the way he spoke and the look that came into his damp
eyes suggested to Par for reasons he would never be able to
explain that no betrayal had taken place.
“They have him,” the Valeman answered, forcing himself to
look directly at Damson. She turned aside instantly.
“Come away, then,” the Mole urged, the candle in his hand
as he scurried ahead of them. “Hurry.”
They went back down into the tower walls, winding and
twisting their way through the gloom, listening to the cries of
soldiers filter through the stone in a muffled cacophony. They
reached the closet and passed quickly into the hallway beyond.
Outside, soldiers ran past the barracks windows, headed for the
watchtower and the gates. Torchlight sparked and flared as it
was brought to bear against the darkness, and the sound of
bolts being thrown and crossbars being dropped into their
metal fitting was deafening. Pressed against the wall in a pool
of darkness, the Mole held his charges in place for a moment,
then beckoned them ahead. They ran in a crouch through the
empty corridor to the door that had brought them and pushed
through to the courtyard without.
Darkness had fallen, and the moon and stars were hidden by
The Talismans of Shannara 53
clouds that hung low and sullen across the bluff. Fire cast its
smoky light through the gloom with little effect. Figures
charged about everywhere, but it was impossible to make out
their faces.
“This way!” the Mole whispered hoarsely.
They moved left along the wall, hurrying because everyone
else was hurrying as well. They slipped through the dark, just
three more bodies in the confusion, another three for which no
one had time or interest.
They were almost to the door leading back to the city’s un-
derground when they were challenged. A shout brought them
about, and a dark figure came striding out of the gloom. For an
instant Par thought it was Padishar, miraculously escaped, but
then he saw the markings of a Federation captain on a dark
uniform. All three froze at his approach, uncertain what to do.
The captain reached them, his dark bearded face coming into
the light.
Then Damson stepped forward, smooth and relaxed, smiling
at him. A confused look appeared on his face. She gave him
an instant more, then hit him three times across the face with
the blade of her hand, the blows so quick that Par could barely
see them. She stepped into him, drew his arm across her shoul-
der, and threw him down. He wheezed and tried to cry out, but
a final blow to the throat silenced him for good.
Damson rose and pushed past Par to where the Mole was al-
ready disappearing through the door. Par remembered in that
instant how easily she had overcome him that night in the Peo-
ple’s Park when he had believed her responsible for the Feder-
ation trap that had ensnared Padishar and the others. She might
have done so again in the watchtower, he realized. She could
have forced him to go back if she had wished. Why hadn’t
she?
They were inside the inner wall again, hurrying back down
to the cellars that had brought them. The sounds without were
fading now, muffled behind the layers of stone block. They
reached the trapdoor and passed through, descending the steps