The Scions of Shannara

“No, not everything. He’s not that sort.” Coll started to protest, but Par put out his hands quickly to calm him. “Think about it a moment. This whole business of who and what he is has been carefully staged. He spins out these wild tales deliberately, not out of whimsy. Padishar Creel has something else in common with Panamon, if we can believe the stories. He has re-created himself in the minds of everyone around him—drawn a picture of himself that doesn’t square from one telling to the next, but is nevertheless bigger than life.” He bent close. “And you can bet that he’s done it for a reason.”


Further speculation about the matter of Padishar Creel’s background ended a few minutes later when they were summoned to a meeting. Hirehone collected them with a gruff command to follow and led them across the bluff and into the caves to a meeting chamber where the outlaw chief was waiting. Oil lamps on black chains hung from the chamber ceiling like spiders, their glimmer barely reaching into the shadows that darkened the corners and crevices. Morgan and the Dwarves were there, seated at a table along with several outlaws Par had seen before in the camp. Chandos was a truly ferocious-looking giant with a great black beard, one eye and one ear on the same side of his face missing, and scars everywhere. Ciba Blue was a young, smooth-faced fellow with lank blond hair and an odd cobalt birthmark on his left cheek that resembled a half-moon. Stasas and Drutt were lean, hard, older men with close-cropped dark beards, faces that were seamed and brown, and eyes that shifted watchfully. Hirehone ushered in the Valemen, closed the chamber door, and stood purposefully in front of it.

For just a moment Par felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle in warning.

Then Padishar Creel was greeting them, cheerful and reassuring. “Ah, young Par and his brother.” He beckoned them onto benches with the others, made quick introductions, and said, “We are going after the Sword tomorrow at dawn.”

“Where is it?” Par wanted to know at once.

The outlaw chief’s smile broadened. “Where it won’t get away from us.”

Par glanced at Coll.

“The less said about where we’re going, the better the chance of keeping it a secret.” The big man winked.

“Is there some reason we need to keep it a secret?” Morgan Leah asked quietly.

The outlaw chief shrugged. “No reason out of the ordinary. But I am always cautious when I make plans to leave the Jut.” His eyes were hard. “Humor me, Highlander.”

Morgan held his gaze and said nothing. “Seven of us will go,” the other continued smoothly. “Stasas, Drutt, Blue, and myself from the camp, the Valemen and the Highlander from without.” Protests were already starting from the mouths of the others and he moved quickly to squelch them. “Chandos, you’ll be in charge of the Jut in my absence. I want to leave someone behind I can depend upon. Hirehone, your place is back in Varfleet, keeping an eye on things there. Besides, you’d have trouble explaining yourself if you were spotted where we’re going.

“As for you, my Eastland friends,” he spoke now to Steff and Teel, “I would take you if I could. But Dwarves outside the Eastland are bound to draw attention, and we can’t be having that. It’s risky enough allowing the Valemen to come along with the Seekers still looking for them, but it’s their quest.”

“Ours as well now, Padishar,” Steff pointed out darkly. “We have come a long way to be part of this. We don’t relish being left behind. Perhaps a disguise?”

“A disguise would be seen through, particularly where we are going,” the outlaw chief answered, shaking his head. “You are a resourceful fellow, Steff—but we can take no chances on this outing.”

“There’s a city and people involved, I take it?”

“There is.”

The Dwarf studied him hard. “I would be most upset if there were games being played here at our expense.”

There was a growl of warning from the outlaws, but Padishar Creel silenced it instantly. “So would I,” he replied, and his gaze locked on the Dwarf.

Steff held that gaze for a long moment. Then he glanced briefly at Teel and nodded. “Very well. We’ll wait.”

The outlaw chief’s eyes swept the table. “We’ll leave at first light and be gone about a week. If we’re gone longer than that, chances are we won’t be coming back. Are there any questions?”

No one spoke. Padishar Creel gave them a dazzling smile. “A drink, then? Outside with the others, so they can give us a toast and a wish for success! Up, lads, and strength to us who go to brave the lion in his den!”

He went out into the night, the others following. Morgan and the Valemen trailed, shuffling along thoughtfully.

“The lion in his den, eh?” Morgan muttered half to himself. “I wonder what he means by that?”

Par and Coll glanced at each other. Neither was certain that they wanted to know.