Free The Heritage of Shannara by Terry Brooks Page A

mistakes. But Par had the magic to fall back on and covering up for Coll had seldom cost him anything. It hadn't been like that for Coll. Covering up for Par had sometimes cost him a great deal. Yet Par was his brother, whom he loved, and he never complained. Sometimes, thinking back on those days, Par was ashamed of how much he had let his brother do for him.
    He brushed the memories aside. Coll was looking at him, waiting for his response. Par shifted his feet impatiently and thought about what that response ought to be. Then he said simply, “All right. What do you think we should do?”
    “Shades, I don't know what we should do!” Coll said at once. “I just know that there are a lot of unanswered questions, and I don't think we should commit ourselves to anything until we've had a chance to answer some of them!”
    Par nodded stoically. “Before the time of the new moon, you mean.”
    “That's better than three weeks away and you know it!”
    Par's jaw tightened. “That's not as much time as you make it seem! How are we supposed to answer all the questions we have before then?”
    Coll stared at him. “You are impossible, you know that?”
    He turned and walked back from the shoreline to where the blankets and cooking gear were stacked and began carrying them down to the skiff. He didn't look at Par. Par stood where he was and watched his brother in silence. He was remembering how Coll had pulled him half-drowned from the Rappahalladran when he had fallen in the rapids on a camping trip. He had gone under and Coll had been forced to dive down for him. He became sick afterward and Coll had carried him home on his back, shaking with fever and half-delirious. Coll was always looking out for him, it seemed. Why was that, he wondered suddenly, when he was the one with the magic?
    Coll finished packing the skiff, and Par walked over to him. “I'm sorry,” he said and waited.
    Coll looked down at him solemnly a moment, then grinned. “No, you're not. You're just saying that.”
    Par grinned back in spite of himself. “I am not!”
    “Yes, you are. You just want to put me off my guard so you can start in again with your confounded decision-making once we're out in the middle of that lake where I can't walk away from you!” His brother was laughing openly now.
    Par did his best to look mortified. “Okay, it's true. I'm not sorry.”
    “I knew it!” Coll was triumphant.
    “But you're wrong about the reason for the apology. It has nothing to do with getting you out in the middle of the lake. I'm just trying to shed the burden of guilt I've always felt at being the older brother.”
    “Don't worry!” Coll was doubled over. “You've always been a terrible older brother!”
    Par shoved him, Coll shoved back, and for the moment their differences were forgotten. They laughed, took a final look about the campsite, and pushed the skiff out onto the lake, clambering aboard as it reached deeper water. Coll took up the oars without asking and began to row.
    They followed the shoreline west, listening contentedly as the distant sounds of birds rose out of the trees and rushes, letting the day grow pleasantly warm about them. They didn't talk for a while, satisfied with the renewed feeling of closeness they had found on setting out, anxious to avoid arguing again right away.
    Nevertheless, Par found himself rehashing matters in his mind—much the same as he was certain Coll was doing. His brother was right about one thing—there were a lot of unanswered questions. Reflecting on the events of the previous evening, Par found himself wishing he had thought to ask the old man for a bit more information. Did the old man know, for instance, who the stranger was who had rescued them in Varfleet? The old man had known about their trouble there and must have had some idea how they escaped. The old man had managed to track them, first to Varfleet, then down the Mermidon, and he had frightened off the woodswoman—Shadowen or