Bearers of the Black Staff

Sarn’s words died away into silence. So he means us no harm, but he’s willing to kill us all if he decides he’s being lied to? Pan gave a mental shake of his head. He could trust nothing of what this man was saying, which was pretty much what Sarn had suggested in advising him to reveal nothing he did not wish repeated. Grosha was smiling, standing next to his father, hands clasped almost gleefully. He sensed he was about to have his way with them, that they would soon be entertainment for his Skaith Hounds.

“I have answered truthfully,” Pan said, trying to deflect both Taureq Siq’s threat and his own fear. “I don’t know what more I can do. What else do you want to know?”

Beside him, he felt Prue inch closer.

Another long pause as Taureq Siq considered. Beside him, Grosha was growing more agitated, restless enough that he was trying to push forward again. His father, almost absently, shoved him back, and then spoke anew to Arik Sarn.

“He says you must take him to meet your leaders,” the latter advised Pan. “Tomorrow.”

Pan hesitated. Now what am I supposed to do? His mind raced, searching for an answer that wouldn’t come. “I’m not allowed to do that,” he said finally. “I don’t have permission to take anyone into the mountains. But I could bring our leaders somewhere close to where your son captured us. I could arrange a meeting. I just need a little time.”

He said all this without having the faintest idea if he could arrange a meeting or even with whom he might try to do so. Those in the valley didn’t have any unity of the sort he had described, and there was no one who could speak for all of the various peoples. But it didn’t matter. He would tell the Maturen anything to keep him at bay. Whatever happened, he must not take these Trolls into the passes or he would forfeit whatever measure of security those living in the valley might still enjoy now that the protective barriers were down.

He watched Taureq Siq’s face as Sarn translated his words, but could read nothing in the Troll’s impassive expression. The Maturen said something in reply, and then the two went back and forth for a few minutes in what appeared to be either an argument or an attempt to clarify. Whichever it was, Pan didn’t like the feel of it.

Arik Sarn turned back to him. “Taureq Siq will think on your suggestion and give you his answer before the day ends. He says you must think some more on the answers you have given him. Maybe you will want to change some of them. He orders me to stay with you until you do.”

Pan exhaled softly. “Tell him I am grateful,” he said, not knowing exactly why he was grateful for anything that was happening, but thinking he needed to say something encouraging. “I will do as he says.”

The Maturen gave him a short nod, one that managed to convey both approval and menace, and then he beckoned the others after him and departed the way he had come without a glance back. Grosha, however, gave Panterra a long, hard look that promised that as far as he was concerned, nothing was settled.

Panterra felt Prue clasp his arm. “Maybe he’ll let us go,” she whispered. “Maybe he’ll agree to your suggestion.”

Pan didn’t think so. He didn’t know what would happen, but it wasn’t that. He suspected that Taureq Siq had already made up his mind about what he was going to do, but had decided to wait to let Panterra’s imagination take hold.

He started to say as much to Arik Sarn, but the Troll held up his hand in warning. They stood in silence for a long time, listening. Then Sarn walked to the tent flap and peered out.

“Spies stay behind sometimes. Hide and listen and then tell him things. Maybe not this time because they don’t speak your language. Talk freely, but softly. Be quick. He will come back soon.”

“You think he has decided, don’t you?” Pan pressed.

“Yes.”

“He won’t let us go, will he?”

“No.” The Troll glanced back over his shoulder, and then moved away from the tent flap to stand close. “He won’t let you go until he has the answers he wants. Maybe not then, either. He wants to know how to get into your valley so he can decide for himself if he will occupy it. This is what he is not telling you. He moves the Drouj from its traditional homelands, which have sickened. The Drouj avoided this for a long time after the Great Wars, but no longer. Things have changed. Taureq looks for a new homeland; that is what he is doing out here.”

“But where are the women and children?” Prue interrupted. “Have they left them behind?”

“Doesn’t matter what he’s done with his women and children. Do you understand what I am telling you? Do you see the purpose of Taureq’s questions? He seeks your home in the mountains. If he likes it, he will take it from you.”

“And you don’t approve?” Pan asked.

“It doesn’t matter if I approve.”

Panterra shook his head. “But I don’t understand. Why are you telling us all this? Why are you helping us at all? Aren’t you putting yourself in danger by doing so? If the Drouj find out what you are doing, won’t they be angry?”

Arik Sarn nodded. “Very angry. Taureq Siq would kill me instantly, forget any agreement with my father and their shared blood. He would do it even if it meant sacrificing his eldest, in turn.”

“Then I’ll ask it again. Why are you helping us? With so much risk, so much at stake, why?”