“Hold your tongue, Seraphic!” Pan advanced on him swiftly, stopping him midsentence. “Another word from you, another baseless accusation, and I will lay you out alongside the Drouj!” He leaned forward, close to the other. “I didn’t come all the way back for this! You are here because I asked for you to be here—not because you have any right to be here. Nor any right to slander me!”

“I will not be lectured to by a foolish boy who—”

Pan swung the black staff around and held it up in front of him, so angry by now he had forgotten to be afraid or even cautious. “Be careful of what you say next, Seraphic.”

But it was Pogue Kray who spoke instead. “Enough. I am council leader of this village. The safety of its people and their homes is my responsibility. I will decide who speaks. Skeal Eile, you will allow the boy to tell us what he knows. Is that clear?”

The Seraphic managed a small nod, the venom in his eyes unmistakable as he shot a quick glance at Pan.

“Panterra,” the big man said, turning to him, “don’t waste our time. Get right to the point.”

Pan slumped against the wall, his exhaustion overtaking him anew. He wanted so badly to sleep. But first he must deal with this. Choosing his words carefully, he related everything that had happened since they had last met at Pogue’s house with Aislinne and Sider Ament. He told them of the attack on the defenders at Declan Reach and their annihilation by the Drouj. He told them of his own escape and how he had hidden just out of reach of his pursuers, of Sider’s coming to his rescue and of the ensuing battle and the deaths of all but Arik Siq and himself. He said nothing of Prue. To do so would have given Skeal Eile leverage to use against him, something he dared not do until this matter was resolved. He knew he must not lose control of the situation if he was to save her.

“This man is the son of the Maturen of the Trolls who seek to invade the valley?” Pogue asked in surprise. “Then isn’t Skeal Eile correct? Don’t we need to use him to bargain for our safety?”

“It might seem so,” Pan replied, searching for a reason to dismiss this line of thinking. “But Arik Siq himself has told me repeatedly that his father would kill him before he made a bargain with us. Taureq Siq is a brutal man. He has destroyed whole tribes of Trolls who resisted him. He would kill his son as quick as thought if it suited his purposes.”

“But you cannot know this,” Pogue persisted. “Not for sure. Not without testing it in some way.”