“Arik Siq?” the ragpicker asked.

The prisoner made no reply. The ragpicker crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Are you Arik Siq or no?”

The Drouj stood up, towering over him. Tall and lean, he was so dark he was almost black. “Who are you?”

“Let’s have you answer my question first. That would be the polite thing for you to do. Are you Arik Siq?”

“Who else would I be?” the other snarled. “How many prisoners are chained down here besides me?” He paused, studying the old man’s face, not liking what he saw. “All right, I’ll say it. I’m Arik Siq. What does it matter to you?” He looked past him toward the open door. “Where are the guards?”

“Busy with other things. How would you like to get out of here and go back to your own people?”

The Drouj stared at him. “Who are you, old man? You didn’t say.”

The ragpicker shrugged. “Just a traveler, come through one of the passes that lead to the outside world. I came looking for a man. He carries a black staff. I’m told he’s dead. I’m told you killed him. How did you manage that?”

Arik Siq hesitated, uncertain where this was leading. “Poison darts, from a blowgun.”

“Really?” The ragpicker could scarcely believe what he was hearing. “He must have been distracted not to have been able to defend himself. You are a lucky man. Lucky twice over, now that I’m here.”

“You’re going to set me free?”

“I am.”

The Drouj shook his head. “Why would you do that? What do you want from me in return?”

The ragpicker smiled. “I understand that the man you killed gave the black staff to a boy. Apparently the boy tracked you down, captured you, and brought you here. Is that right?”

“He tricked me.”

“But here you are nevertheless. If I set you free, I want you to find that staff and bring it to me. You can do what you want with the boy, but the staff is mine. Do you agree to this?”

He watched the Troll give him a quick look and then nod. “Why not? After I kill the boy, I’ll bring the staff to you.”

He held the old man’s gaze for just a second before his eyes shifted away. The ragpicker reached out so swiftly that he had hold of the other’s tunic front before there was time to react and had pulled him so close that he was breathing in his face. Arik Siq made a halfhearted attempt to break free, but then the other’s free hand closed down on his shoulder, and his features twisted as if daggers had been driven into his body. Groaning, he dropped to his knees, where he remained hunched over and shaking, no longer big and threatening, no longer anything but terrified.