The Drouj woke with a start, wincing at pain that Pan could only imagine, but in which he took quiet satisfaction. His prisoner tried to stretch and then paused as he discovered that his hands and upper arms were bound tightly with cord and his ankles chained to a heavy set of roots.

“Don’t bother trying to move,” Pan offered when the other looked over at him. “Just sit still.”

The Drouj lowered his eyes to his shackles and gave them a cursory appraisal. There was a deep bruise and some blood along the side of his head where he had been struck by the staff. He looked ragged and dirty, a fugitive not only from the people in the valley but from anything resembling soap and water. Yet his eyes were sharp and calculating, and there was no sign of defeat mirrored there.

“You should have let me go when you had the chance,” he said finally. He lifted his head, his blunt features wrinkling unpleasantly. “It was the only way you’d ever see your little friend alive again.”

Pan shook his head, giving the other a long, steady look that pinned him against the darkness. “You had better hope that’s not true. Getting her back is all that’s keeping you alive. Your life for hers—I think your father will be happy to make the trade.”

Arik Siq laughed. “My father won’t spare her for me. He will kill her outright the moment he knows the arrangement you made with him is a sham. You don’t know him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

Pan ignored him and went back to working on a repair he was making to one boot. The binding had broken near the sole, and he was stringing new leather through the sole. He let the silence build.

“Where are you taking me?” His prisoner sounded bored, irritated. “Back to my father, so that you can make this exchange that won’t happen? Back to the Drouj so that you can be killed, too?”

Pan didn’t respond.

“To the Elves, then? They will want to see me dead, as well.”

Pan shrugged.

“The old man died, didn’t he? The poison was too much for him. He should have left me alone. Coming after me like he did was foolish. One man, bearer of a black staff or not, is no match for so many.” He leaned forward. “I knew he was coming, you know. I left someone on watch in the pass, just in case. The old man walked right into the trap I set for him.”

He stopped talking, looking down at his hands. “It was all for nothing. He died for nothing.”

Pan kept his gaze lowered. “He kept you from escaping, didn’t he?”