feet were scarred and burned as if they had been set on fire. I
developed a fever. I was in bed for two weeks. They thought
I was going to die. But I didn’t; I lived. They died instead. All
of them.”
Her smile was bitter and ironic. “I just thought you should
know after this morning. I don’t like people to see what hap-
pened to me.” She looked at him briefly, then turned away
again. “But I wanted you to understand.”
She stood with him a moment longer, then said good-night
and disappeared back into the trees. He stared after her for a
long time, thinking about what she had said. When he returned
to the campsite and rolled himself back into his blanket, he
could not sleep. He could not stop thinking about Many Roh.
They set out again at dawn, shadows in the faint gray light
that seeped out of the east. The day was overcast, and by mid-
day it had begun to rain. The company trudged on through the
forested hill country north of Varfleet and the Mermidon, fol-
lowing the line of the Dragon’s Teeth west. Twice the scout
came back to warn of Federation patrols and they were forced
to take cover until the patrols had passed. The land was gray
and shone damply through the rain, and they encountered no
one else. Morgan walked with Matty Roh, moving up next to
her unbidden, staying with her through the day. She said noth-
ing to discourage him and did not move away. She spoke little,
but she seemed comfortable with his presence. When they
stopped to eat lunch, she shared with him the small bit of fruit
she was carrying.
By nightfall, they had crossed the Mermidon and come in
sight of Tyrsis. The city glowed bleakly from the bluff heights
as they stared up at it from across the approaching plains. Rain
continued to fall, steady and unrelenting, turning the dusty
earth to mud. Damson and Matty Roh would not attempt to en-
ter the city until morning, when they could mingle with the
usual tradesmen come up for the day from the surrounding vil-
lages. Chandos sent the scout on ahead to see if he could leam
anything useful from travelers departing the city. The rest of
128 The Talismans of Shannara
the company bedded down in a grove of old maples, finding to
their displeasure that dry spaces were few and far between.
It was nearing midnight when the scout returned. Morgan
was still awake, huddled with Chandos and Matty Roh, all of
them listening as Damson described what she knew of the tun-
nels beneath Tyrsis and the Federation prisons. The scout bent
to whisper something to Chandos, furtive and quick. Chandos
turned ashen. He dismissed the scout and turned to the High-
lander and the girls.
The Federation had announced its intention to execute
Padishar Creel. The execution would be public. It would take
place at noon on the day after tomorrow.
Chandos got up and walked away, shaking his head. Morgan
sat with Damson and Matty Roh in stunned silence. He had
guessed wrong. The Federation had decided to rid itself of
Padishar once and for all. The leader of the free-bom had less
than two days to live.
Morgan’s eyes met Damson’s, then Matty’s. They were all
thinking the same thing. Whatever rescue plan they tried, they
had better get it right the first time.
XII
Wind blew across Wren Elessedil’s face, cooling it
against the heat of the midday sun. Her short cropped
hair whipped from side to side with its passing, and
the whistling rush past her ears drowned out all other sounds.
There was a cadence to it that lulled and soothed despite its
thrust, that wrapped about in the manner of a warm cloak on
a cold night. She smiled at the feeling, closed her eyes, and
gave herself over to its embrace.
Wren was seated astride the giant Roc Spirit, flying high
over the Westland forests south and east of Arborion, ap-
proaching the Mermidon where it brushed the vast swamp they
called the Shroudslip and edged down into the plains of the