that led up into the Valley of Shale. A watch was set, dinner
was eaten, and the company retired to sleep. Morgan had
walked with Damson during the day, and bedded down close
to her that night. While she probably neither needed nor
wanted it, he had assumed a protective attitude toward her, de-
termined that if he could not do anything for Par or Coil just
at the moment, at least he could look after her.
Many Roh had kept to herself most of the day, walking
apart from everyone, eating alone when they rested, choosing
to keep her own company. No one seemed all that surprised
that she was along; no one seemed to question why she was
there. Several, times Morgan thought to speak with her, but
each time he saw the set of her face and the deliberate distance
she created between herself and others, and decided not to.
At midnight, restless from dreams and the anticipation of
what lay ahead, he awoke and walked down to the edge of the
grove of trees in which they had sheltered to look up at the sky
and out across the plains. She appeared suddenly at his elbow.
Silent as a ghost, she stood next to him as if she might have
126 The Talismans of Shannara
been expected all along. Together, they stared out across the
empty stretch of the Rabb, studying the outline of the land in
the pale starlight, breathing the lingering swelter of the day in
the cooling night.
“The country I was born in looked like this,” she said after
a time, her voice distant. “Rat, empty grasslands. A little wa-
ter, a lot of heat. Seasons that could be harsh and beautiful at
the same time.” She shook her head. “Not like the Highlands,
I expect.”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded. A stray bit of wind ruf-
fled her black hair. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled,
its cry fading unanswered into silence.
“You don’t know what to make of me, do you? ”
He shrugged. “I suppose I don’t. You’re a pretty confusing
person.”
Her smile in response was there and gone in an instant. Her
delicate features were shadowed and gave her a gaunt look in
the dim light. She seemed to be working something through.
“When I was five years old,” she said after a moment, “just
before I reached my sixth birthday, not long after my sister
died, I was out playing in a field near the house with my older
brother. It was a pasture, left fallow that year. There were milk
cows in it, grazing. I remember seeing one of the cows lying
on its side down in a depression. It had a funny look about it,
and I walked down to see what was wrong. The cow was look-
ing at me, its eyes wide and staring, very frightened. It didn’t
seem to be able to cry out. It was dying, half in and half out
of some sort of muddy sinkhole that I had never seen there be-
fore. Its body was being eaten away.”
She folded her arms across her chest as if she was cold. “I
don’t know why, but I wanted a closer look. I walked right up
to it, didn’t stop until I was no more than several yards away.
I should have called for my brother, but I was little and I
didn’t think to do so. I looked at the cow, wondering what had
happened. And suddenly I felt this burning on the soles of my
feet. I looked down and saw that I was standing in some of the
same mud that the cow had gotten into. The mud was streaked
with greenish lines and bubbling. It had eaten right through my
shoes. I turned and ran, crying now, calling out for help. I ran
as fast as I could, but the pain was faster. It went all through
The Talismans of Shannara 127
my feet. I remember looking down and seeing that some of my
toes were gone.”
She shivered at the memory. “My mother washed me as best
she could, but it was too late. Half my toes were gone, and my