gloom, picking his way with a practiced step, leading them
deeper beneath the city and away from its walls. The shouts of
pursuit had died completely, and Par supposed that even if the
Federation soldiers had been able to find the hidden entry, they
would have quickly lost their way in the tunnels. He realized
suddenly that he was still holding the Sword of Shannara and
after a moment’s deliberation slipped it carefully back into its
sheath.
The minutes passed, and with every step they took Par de-
spaired of ever seeing Damson Rhee again. He was desperate
to help her, but the look on Padishar’s face had convinced him
that for the moment at least he must hold his tongue. Certainly
Padishar must be as anxious for her as he was.
The Talismans of Shannara 15
They crossed a stone walkway that bridged a sluggish flow
and passed into a tunnel whose ceiling was so low they were
forced to crouch almost to hands and knees. At its end, the
ceiling lifted again, and they navigated a confluence of tunnels
to a door. The Mole touched something that released a heavy
lock, and the door opened to admit them.
Inside they found a collection of ancient furniture and old
discards that if not the same ones the Mole had been in danger
of losing in his flight from the Federation a week ago were
certainly duplicates. The stuffed animals sat in an orderly row
on an old leather couch, button eyes staring blankly at them as
they entered.
The Mole crossed at once, cooing softly, “Brave Chalt,
sweet Everlind, my Westra, and little Lida.” Other names were
murmured, too low to catch. “Hello, my children. Are you
well? ” He kissed them one after the other and rearranged them
carefully. “No, no, the black things won’t find you here, I
promise.”
Padishar passed the torch he was carrying to Par, crossed to
a basin, and began splashing cold water on his sweat-encrusted
face. When he was finished, he remained standing there. His
hands braced on the table that held the basin, and his head
hung wearily.
“Mole, we have to find out what happened to Damson.”
The Mole turned. “Lovely Damson? ”
“She was right next to me,” Par tried to explain, “and then
the soldiers got between us—”
“I know,” Padishar interrupted, glancing up. “It wasn’t your
fault. Wasn’t anybody’s. Maybe she even got away, but there
were so many …” He exhaled sharply. “Mole, we have to
know if they have her.”
The Mole blinked lazily and the sharp eyes gleamed. “These
tunnels go beneath the Federation prisons. Some go right into
the walls. I can look. And listen.”
Padishar’s gaze was steady. “The Gatehouse to the Pit as
well. Mole.”
There was a long silence. Par went cold all over. Not Dam-
son. Not there.
“I want to go with him,” he offered quietly.
“No.” Padishar shook his head for emphasis. “The Mole
16 The Talismans of Shannara
will travel quicker and more quietly.” His eyes were filled with
despair as they found Par’s own. “I want to go as much as you
do, lad. She is …”
He hesitated to continue, and Par nodded. “She told me.”
They stared at each other in silence.
The Mole crossed the room on cat’s feet, squinting in the
glare of the light from the torch Par still held. “Wait here until
I come back,” he directed.
And then he was gone.
Ill
^f t had been a long and arduous journey that brought Par
I Ohmsford from his now long-ago meeting at the
4w Hadeshom with the shade of Allanon to this present
place and time, and as he stood in the Mole’s underground lair
staring at the ruins and discards of other people’s lives he
could not help wondering how much it mirrored his own.
Damson.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that threatened
to come. He could not face what losing her would cost. He
was only beginning to realize how much she meant to him.
“Par,” Padishar spoke his name gently. “Come wash up, lad.
You’re exhausted.”
Par agreed. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually. He was