THEY APPROACHED the downed man cautiously, Pan a step ahead of Prue, ready to defend her should there be need. But their assailant was unconscious, and even when Pan prodded him with his boot, he did not move.
So they propped him up against the tree trunk, stripped him of his knife and every other weapon they could find, of which there were a considerable number. Certainly, there were more than any ordinary hunter would ever think to carry—hidden in his boots, sleeves, pockets, and slits cleverly sewn into the seams of his clothing, in his belt, and even in his wide gold bracelet. Some were unidentifiable, things that looked like throwing stars and curved blades, though tiny and barbed. In the end, Pan cut off his sleeves and pant legs and removed his belt and boots, taking no chances that there might still be weapons hidden on him that they hadn’t found. Then they lashed him to the tree and removed the mask that was covering his head.
Neither of them had ever seen him before.
“He doesn’t look like he belongs out here,” Prue observed.
Pan agreed. He was young and rather pale, almost soft looking. His hands were smooth and free of calluses, and there were no visible scars. He was certainly no hunter or Tracker. There was nothing about him that suggested he spent much time outdoors or engaged in any sort of physical labor.
“He’s an assassin,” Pan said. “Sent to find us.”
Prue shook her head. “By whom? Who would want to kill us?” She hesitated as Pan gave her a look. “Skeal Eile? I thought that was finished. I thought Sider put an end to that.”
“Sider is dead.” Pan backed away from the slumped figure and seated himself cross-legged on the ground. “When he wakes up, we’ll see what he has to say about it.”
Abruptly, Prue got to her feet, walked over to her pack, took out their cooking pan, carried it down to the lake, filled it with water, walked back to him, and threw the water in the unconscious man’s face.
The man jerked awake immediately, shaking his head and sputtering. Blinking rapidly, he looked from one to the other. “Children,” he muttered. “I’ve been taken prisoner by children.”
“Who are you?” Pan asked, leaning forward, but staying out of reach. Prue had taken a seat next to him. “Why were you trying to kill us?”
The man smiled. “You’ll forgive me, but I don’t think I’m going to answer either of those questions.”
“You won’t give us your name?”
“I won’t give you the time of day. Or night, in this case.”
“Or who sent you?”
“Or who didn’t.”
They stared at one another in silence then. “What should we do with him?” Prue asked finally.
“Why don’t you just let me go?” their prisoner asked. “I’ll go straight home and not come back. You have my word.”
“I’m sure your word is good, too,” Pan answered. “The word of an assassin. I have a better idea. Why don’t we just leave you tied up to this tree and see if anything interested in an easy meal finds you in—oh, I don’t know, say the next two weeks. I don’t know that anything will, but it might be better than starving. No one much comes into the meres, you know.”
The young man smiled. “You won’t do that. You won’t leave me.”
“I won’t?”
“You do, and you’ll never find out anything. Also, you’re not built that way. You don’t have it in you.”
Pan almost contradicted him, but Prue cut him off. “You’re right. We aren’t like that.
So we have to take you to someone who knows what to do with you.”
She looked at Pan. “Since we are on our way to Arborlon, let’s take him there. We can give him to Tasha and Tenerife to guard and if they don’t want him they can give him to the Home Guard or even to the Queen.”
A flash of uneasiness appeared in their prisoner’s eyes.
“Tasha and Tenerife are all right, but the Queen?” Pan had seen the look in the other’s eyes and was just talking now to see what would happen.
“All we want is to keep this creature locked away until we find out more about him.”
Prue cocked an eyebrow. “What does it matter where he’s kept or who’s doing the keeping?” She glanced over at their prisoner. “Tell you what, though. We can let Skeal Eile know what happened to you, if you like. Maybe he will decide to come see about getting you released.”
The young man was looking down at his hands now, refusing to meet their eyes. “I suppose you have to do what you think is best. But I’m still not going to tell you anything.”
Pan shrugged. “You don’t have to. We don’t care.” He got to his feet. “Better get some sleep, though. You still have to walk to where we’re going. Come on, Prue.”
He helped her stand and then made a show of walking her back to where their packs were, picking them up, and carrying them to a place just a little distance off from the bound man. Neither said anything as they spread their blankets on the ground and prepared to go to sleep.
“One minute,” their prisoner called out suddenly. “There is something you should know.”