They went on through the tunnels until they had reached a room far back in the cliff rock, where the light was dim and hazy and the noise of the activity taking place below was muted almost to silence.

The Rock Troll gestured. “Wait here.”

He disappeared down another passageway, and when he was safely out of hearing, Pen said to Cinnaminson, “I don’t think he likes us much.”

She turned her milky gaze on him and smiled. “You don’t like him, either. But this is mostly about his brother. You shouldn’t take it personally.”

He nodded, thinking it was easy to say, but hard to do. Especially when it was your family that was being attacked. But she was right, of course, so he put the matter aside. They sat together in the chamber, listening to the faraway sounds of the Trolls and waiting for something to happen.

When Atalan finally returned, he was carrying food and drink, which he deposited in front of them with barely a word before disappearing again. With nothing better to do, they began to eat. But it wasn’t more than a few minutes later that Tagwen and Khyber appeared at the chamber entrance.

“Shades, Penderrin, can’t you stay out of trouble for five minutes without someone keeping watch over you?” snapped the latter. “What happened to you out there? Are you all right, Cinnaminson?”

She rushed over to the Rover girl and embraced her warmly, giving Pen a dark look. Tagwen, standing at the entry with his arms folded over his burly chest, knit his brow in reproof and glared at him. Pen could tell already that nothing he said was going to make any difference.

Aboard the Druid flagship Athabasca, Traunt Rowan stood at the forward rail with Pyson Wence and watched the Gnome Hunters flood the abandoned Troll village. Already, the smell of smoke rising from fires and the sound of furniture being smashed had begun to reach them. Their orders, once it was determined that Kermadec intended to fight, were to destroy as much of Taupo Rough as possible and then lay siege to the cliffside redoubt. The Trolls might think themselves safe inside their rock fortress, but the Druid warships were equipped with catapults designed to breach such defenses. More to the point, the Trolls were outnumbered and constrained by the presence of their women and children. The Trolls might hold out for a day or even two, but in the end, they would be overrun.

“I don’t like it that Shadea is so intent on finding this boy,” Pyson Wence said quietly, his gimlet eyes shifting to find Rowan’s dark face. “I don’t like it that we’re out here at all.”