Then he turned back to Pen and Cinnaminson. “Atalan will see to it that you are made comfortable. The three of you should get along fine. You are all the same age, if not the same temperament.”

He walked away without looking back, leaving the three staring after him. Atalan shook his head. “He treats me like a child. Who does he think he is?”

Neither Pen nor Cinnaminson was about to attempt an answer to that one, so they kept quiet. Pen was thinking they might have been better off if Kermadec had left them on their own. Atalan was still staring after the Maturen. Then he seemed to remember his charges. He gave them a cursory look and shrugged. “Come with me.”

He led them through the main chamber to a set of steps cut into the rock and from there upstairs to a new level. He didn’t speak for a time, trudging ahead with the movements of one resigned to a fate he didn’t deserve. When they reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back at them.

“Do you have a brother?” he asked Pen. The boy shook his head. “Well, if you did, I would hope he would treat you better than Kermadec treats me. He was born earlier, but not necessarily smarter. He is Maturen now, but I will be Maturen one day, too.”

He broke off and turned away, leading them into a series of narrow tunnels that twisted and turned through the rock. Several times, they encountered Trolls coming from the other direction, but not once did Atalan give way, bulling past the oncoming Trolls with an insistence that bordered on rudeness. He seemed of such an entirely different temperament than Kermadec that Pen could not come to terms with the idea that they were really brothers.

“So you are the reason for all this madness,” Atalan offered at one point. “What is it about you that attracts this kind of attention from the Druids?”

Pen shook his head. “The Ard Rhys is my aunt.”

“Your aunt?” Atalan seemed impressed. “Missing for several weeks now, isn’t she? Do they think you know where she is?”

“I don’t know what they think. Except that they don’t want me hunting for her.”

Atalan nodded. “That would explain why they want you so bad. It would explain why my brother is so intent on helping you, too. He thinks the Ard Rhys is the Word’s own child. He thinks she can do no wrong. He forgets what she was before, a creature of darkness and murder. You know of this, don’t you?”

Pen nodded. He was growing angry. “She was a creature of the Morgawr and not responsible for what she did,” he answered in clipped tones.

Atalan glanced back once more. “If you say so.”