But Mistral Belloruus had shrunk back against the stone marker where she had first appeared, her face twisted with emotions Phryne could not read. She still held the pouch and the Elfstones clutched in her hands, clearly visible through the ephemeral trappings of her diminished body. But no longer was she making any effort at handing them to Phryne.

A voice spoke, harsh and cutting, managing somehow to rise above the wailing of the voices and the wind.

-You are of the living, girl, and do not belong here-

Phryne’s throat clenched and her blood turned to ice.

“REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU,” Panterra was telling Xac Wen as they neared the Elfitch and the city of Arborlon. “If we’re stopped, just say that we’re visiting old friends and hope to do some hunting in the eastern wilderness while we’re here. You don’t have to say anything more.”

The boy scowled at him. “I know what to say, Pan. You don’t have to worry; I won’t make a mistake.”

He sounded so fierce about it that Panterra had to smile in spite of himself, but he managed to mask it with a sudden fit of coughing.

Prue, following a pace behind them, stepped forward and placed her hand on Xac’s shoulder. “He knows that. He just needs to reassure himself because he’s afraid for Phryne. Don’t be angry with him.”

Xac Wen glanced over at her and scuffed the toe of his boot as he walked. “I’m not angry at anyone. I just don’t want to be treated like a child. I’m big enough to do what’s needed. I rescued Phryne, after all. I got her out of that storeroom where they were keeping her.”

“Which was a very difficult and dangerous thing to do,” Pan said. “I don’t know if any of us could have done it. So I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop telling you what to do and just assume you already know.”

The boy nodded. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing with the Gray Man’s staff? You could tell me about that, and I wouldn’t get a bit angry.”

Panterra rolled his eyes.

While they crossed the meadow to the base of the bluff on which Arborlon sat and climbed the broad ramp of the Elfitch, Pan repeated the story of the death of Sider Ament and the passing of the staff to himself one more time. Xac Wen listened intently, alternately nodding and grunting until Pan was done.

“Can you do stuff with that staff?” he asked. “Magic stuff? Some say the bearer can. Is that true?”

“It’s true,” Pan told him.

“Can you show me?”

“Leave him alone, Xac,” Prue interrupted. “He doesn’t need to show you anything.”