Before Chert could do more than blink, the door of the castellan’s chamber across the hall rattled as the bolt was pulled back. Hide? Why? He had been summoned, hadn’t he? He had every right to be here!

But why would Beetledown send someone to shoot an arrow at me just to get my attention if I wasn’t truly in danger?

Suddenly his hackles were up and his skin was tingling. It must be some misunderstanding—but if it wasn’t…?

There was no room to slip behind the tapestry, but a marble statue of Erivor stood in a little alcove shrine only a few steps down the passage on the same side as the door. Chert bolted for it. The statue rocked as he pushed his way behind it, and he barely had time to steady it before the door creaked open.

“He knows, curse him,” said a voice that he recognized—Okros. “I should have simply had your men take him, Havemore.”

“It would have been better not to alarm the little diggers, and if he had come of his own accord they would have been none the wiser,” said the other man. “But now the soldiers will have to search for him.”

“Yes, send them at once and search his house. The more I think, the more I believe he knows where Chaven is. That question I told you of, what he asked about the mirror—that was too close to the mark.” Okros’ voice seemed hard and hot at the same time, like iron being shaped. Chert, with growing horror, could no longer pretend they were talking about someone else. They were sending soldiers to his house!

“Come with me, Brother,” said the milder voice of the man called Havemore. “You will have to accompany the soldiers yourself because they may not recognize what is important.”

“I will go, and gladly,” Okros said. “And if we do find Chaven Makaros, I ask you only for a few hours alone with him before we inform our lord Hendon. It might…benefit us both.”

The two men walked quickly down the corridor, followed by several soldiers. They had been waiting for him! If Beetledown hadn’t sent the little man with the arrow, Chert would have been arrested and dragged off to the Earth Elders only knew what end—imprisonment at the least, more likely torture.

And they’re on their way to Funderling Town! To my house! Opal and the boy were in terrible danger—Chaven too if he was not hidden. Chert knew he had to get them all into hiding, but how? Cursed Okros and the man Havemore were already on their way down with armed soldiers!

He looked to make sure the hall was empty, then quickly extricated himself from the alcove shrine. He tugged gently on the tapestry and hissed for the little man.

“Help me, please! Can you get a message to Funderling Town quickly?”

After a moment the little man appeared again at the top of the tapestry and shimmied down on his thread. “No, can’t, sir. Take too very long. P’raps if someone by bird went, but cote’s all the way t’other side o’ the Great Peak. Couldn’t get to Fundertown fast enough ourselves, which be why Master Scout Beetledown sent me here to find ’ee.” His tiny chest puffed up a little. “Travel faster, me, than nigh any other.”