The Scions of Shannara

His features creased with the familiar wolfish smile. “Today a special detail will arrive a couple of hours before the shift change because there’s to be an inspection of the Gatehouse quarters this evening at the change, and the commander of the Gatehouse wants everything spotless. The day watch will be happy enough to let the detail past to do its work, figuring it’s no skin off their noses.” He paused. “That detail, of course, will be us.”


He leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Once inside, we’ll dispatch the night watch. If we’re quiet enough about it, the day watch won’t even know what’s happening. They’ll continue with their rounds, doing part of our job for us—keeping everyone outside. We’ll bolt the door from within as a precaution in any case. Then we’ll go down through the Gatehouse stairs to the lower levels and out into the Pit. It should still be light enough to find what we’re looking for fairly quickly. Once we have it, we’ll go back up the stairs and out the same way we came in.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Then Drutt said, his voice gravelly, “We’ll be recognized, Padishar. Bound to be some of the same soldiers there as when we were taken.”

Padishar shook his head. “There was a shift change three days ago. That was the shift that was on duty when we were seized.”

“What about that commander?”

“Gone until the beginning of the work week. Just a duty officer.”

“We’d need Federation uniforms.”

“We have them. I brought them in yesterday.”

Drutt and Stasas exchanged glances. “Been thinking about this for a time, have you?” the latter asked.

The outlaw chief laughed softly. “Since the moment we walked out of those cells.”

Morgan, who had been seated on a bench next to Par, stood up. “If anything goes wrong and they discover what we’re about, they’ll be all over the Gatehouse. We’ll be trapped, Padishar.”

The big man shook his head. “No, we won’t. We’ll carry in grappling hooks and ropes with our cleaning equipment. If we can’t go back the way we came, we’ll climb out of the Pit using those. The Federation will be concentrating on getting at us through the Gatehouse entry. It won’t even occur to them that we don’t intend to come back that way.”

The questions died away. There was a long silence as the six sifted through their doubts and fears and waited for something inside to reassure them that the plan would work. Par found himself thinking that there were an awful lot of things that could go wrong.

“Well, what’s it to be?” Padishar’s patience gave out. “Time’s something we don’t have to spare. We all know that there’s risks involved, but that’s the nature of the business. I want a decision. Do we try it or not? Who says we do? Who’s with me?”

Par listened to the silence lengthen. Coll and Morgan were statues on the bench to either side of him. Stasas and Drutt, who it had seemed might speak first, now had their eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Damson was looking at Padishar, who in turn was looking at her. Par realized all at once that no one was going to say anything, that they were all waiting on him.

He surprised himself. He didn’t even have to think about it. He simply said, “I’ll go.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Coll whispered urgently in his ear. Stasas and Drutt had Padishar’s momentary attention, declaring that they, too, would go. “Par, this was our chance to get out!”

Par leaned close to him. “He’s doing this for me, don’t you see? I’m the one who wants to find the Sword! I can’t let Padishar take all the risks! I have to go!”

Colt shook his head helplessly. Morgan, with a wink at Par over Coll’s shoulder, cast his vote in favor of going as well. Coll just raised his hand wordlessly and nodded.

That left Damson. Padishar had his sharp gaze fixed on her, waiting. It suddenly occurred to Par that Padishar needn’t have asked who wanted to go with him; he simply could have ordered it. Perhaps in asking he was also testing. There was still a traitor loose. Padishar had told him earlier that he didn’t believe it was any of them—but he might have it in his mind to make sure.

“I will wait for you in the park,” Damson Rhee said, and everyone stared at her. She did not seem to notice. “I would have to disguise myself as a man in order to go in with you. That is one more risk you would be taking—and to what end? There is nothing I can offer by being with you. If there is trouble, I will be of better use to you on the outside.”

Padishar’s smile was immediately disarming. “Your thinking is correct as usual, Damson. You will wait in the park.”

It seemed to Par that he was a little too quick to agree.



Geysers exploded and died from the flat, gray surface of the lake, and the spray felt like bits of ice where it landed on Walker Boh’s skin.

“Tell me why you come here, Dark Uncle?” Allanon’s shade whispered.

Walker felt the chill burn away as his determination caught fire. “I need tell you nothing,” he replied. “You are not Allanon. You are only the Grimpond.”