The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

He nodded, clearly unhappy. “I have never told you what brought me to Paranor, but I think you need to hear it now. It is no secret that we are not friends. You have probably already guessed that it has something to do with your past. My parents were Federation officials who became victims of your manipulations when you were the Ilse Witch. They were destroyed politically because of you. The reasons no longer matter. The fact remains that they died broken and despised even by their closest friends. Dannon and Cela Scio. They were members of the Coalition Council, at one time. Do you remember them?”


She shook her head.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I took my mother’s family name so no one here, especially you, would make the connection. My purpose in coming was to see to it that you did not subvert the Druid Council in the same way you had subverted other political bodies—to make sure that you really were Ard Rhys and not still Ilse Witch. I was willing to let go of the past if you had changed. I thought that might be enough. But it isn’t. You are still linked to your past in the minds of too many, both inside and outside Paranor’s walls. You are rendered ineffective by acts you committed before you became Ard Rhys. That won’t change; it can never change. I have stayed on as a Druid only because I believe you must be made to leave.”

The heat of anger rose in her face, a faint blush she could not prevent. “Your opinion does not necessarily represent that of the majority. Nor is it necessarily right.”

“Resign your office,” he repeated. His expression was suddenly hard and fixed. “Do so now, tonight. Announce it to all. Time does not allow for extended deliberation on the matter.”

She stared at him in surprise. He was practically ordering her to leave. “Time allows for more deliberation than you seem willing to afford me. I said I would consider your demand, Traunt Rowan. That will have to be enough.”

He shook his head. “It isn’t nearly enough. I should have come to you long before this. Pay attention to me, Ard Rhys. Events have a way of piling up and stealing away our choices.”

“Do they do so here? What are you trying to say? Why is this so urgent? Tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitated as if thinking he might, then simply turned away and went out the door, slamming it behind him with such force that she felt the vibrations in the stone beneath her feet.


“Have you brought it?” Shadea a’Ru demanded as she stepped out of the darkness of the hidden passageway into the light of the room.

Sen Dunsidan regarded her with bemusement. “Good evening to you, too.”

She took her time closing the wall panel behind her, watched it slide smoothly back into place, and let her temper cool. As impatient as she was to get on with things, it would do her no good to argue with Dunsidan at this point.

“My apologies,” she said, turning back to him with a smile. “I am more than a little nervous about all this, as you might guess. I am also anxious to get it over with.”

He nodded. “Understandable, Shadea. But haste often results in mistakes, and we can’t afford to have any here.”

She gritted her teeth against what she was tempted to say and let the moment pass. They were never going to have much of a relationship, Sen Dunsidan and she. The one they had was one of convenience and nothing more. As much as she wanted the Ard Rhys out of the way, she was only slightly less anxious to be rid of him. He was a treacherous, self-serving snake, a man who had built his career on the misfortunes and failings of others. She had heard the stories about his despicable uses of children and women, and she believed them all. Once Grianne Ohmsford was eliminated, she would turn her attention to him. But for the moment, they must remain allies, and she would play that game as best she could.

“There won’t be any mistakes,” she said.

She moved over to the table with the wine carafe and poured herself a glass. His room was rich with tapestries and rugs, with wine and sweets, and with good smells. It contrasted sharply with her spare and unassuming quarters some floors below. She felt no jealousy; finery and comforts were a sign of weakness. They made demands that caused one to lose focus on what really mattered. She would not allow that in herself, but was more than willing to allow it in him. It would make it easier to break him down and destroy him when the time to do so arrived.

“How do you know that the potion you have brought me works as you think? What if you have been betrayed?”

She watched for a reaction. He merely shrugged. “I haven’t tested it myself, but I am assured it is lethally effective.”

“Assured by whom?” she asked. “Who gave you this ‘liquid night,’ Prime Minister?” she pressed. “You didn’t mix it up yourself. Such a potion requires magic, and you have none. Who do you know who has such magic? Did someone at Paranor assist you? Someone not allied with me? Do you play us against each other?”