“Do not play games with me,” the ragpicker hissed, all pretense of civility gone. “Your life is mine to do with as I choose. You give me little reason to salvage it when you lie to me like that. If you intend not to give me the black staff, then you would be wise not to lie to me about it. I can sense lies, Troll. I can sniff them out!”

“I was just…telling you what you…wanted to hear!” the other gasped. Then, in a surge of mixed bravado and fury, he added, “Why shouldn’t I?”

The urge to break his neck was enormous, but the ragpicker managed to resist the impulse. “Look at me,” he ordered, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Look carefully.”

Arik Siq did as he was ordered, and the ragpicker let him see just enough of what he was that he could feel the Drouj shiver with recognition. He held him in check a moment longer, letting him feel his strength, giving him time to understand how helpless he was. Then he released him and stepped back.

“If you lie to me again, I will kill you,” he said quietly. “Understood?”

The Troll nodded, unable to speak.

“Now tell me again that you will bring me the black staff.”

“I will,” the other promised, and this time the ragpicker could tell from his voice that he meant it.

“Answer this. Why are they keeping you prisoner here? Why don’t they just kill you and be done with it?”

Arik Siq shook his head. “The boy thinks to trade me for the girl we keep as prisoner. Or perhaps for the lives of his people.”

“You intend to invade this valley? That’s who lays siege to it now, that army to the north? And you spied for them to find a way in?”

“They brought me here of their own free will. They were stupid. They betrayed themselves. They don’t deserve to keep this valley. We will take it away from them and make it our new home.”

The ragpicker grimaced. Idiots, all of them. “But you know the location of the passes now? You know how to bring your army in through either?”

“I know.”