He took his hands away from Sider’s body and clasped them in his lap, unwilling to let them stray too close to the black staff. He couldn’t leave it, but what would happen if he touched it? Would it hurt him just to pick it up and carry it somewhere safe? Would he be accepting use of it by doing so? Would he be taking on a larger commitment by conveying it elsewhere with no intention of using it himself?

He didn’t know. The truth was, he didn’t know anything about how the staff would react. He didn’t even know if he could summon its magic, if he was capable of wielding it. He was painfully ignorant of everything that mattered about the staff.

Except what he knew in his heart and could not deny—that Sider Ament had wanted him to take it for his own.

He stood up slowly and looked around the vista of the plains west and the mountains east, searching the landscape. He sought signs of movement, looking for Drouj in the direction their army was encamped and for Arik Siq in the dark mouth of the pass. But there was nothing that attracted his attention in either direction. His gaze shifted skyward and he tried to locate the hawk he had seen flying through the peaks earlier, but it was gone.

He was alone with the dead and his thoughts on what their dying had meant.

Because that was the final measure of all of his choices. It wasn’t only Sider, but the men of Glensk Wood, too, who had given their lives attempting to hold the pass. What did he owe them for doing this? What obligation did he have? He could argue that he owed them nothing because he hadn’t asked that they give their lives. But when men die in your company, sharing their last moments with you, surely you incur an obligation of some sort.

It did not stop there, either. Eventually, the Trolls would find their way into the valley, and many more would die. Did he owe something to those people as well? In his heart, he knew the answer. If he could do something to help them, perhaps even to save them, he must act. It was an oath he had sworn long before this day. It was a Tracker’s oath to his people: he must serve and protect them to the best of his ability, using his training and skills and determination. Nothing that had happened here changed the fact of that commitment.