Padric continued to shovel as the question gnawed at him. Now Fafnir was the one leaving things unsaid. Why all the dissembling? Padric heard the sharp, angry hiss as Fafnir quenched the blade in the water barrel. The answer came to him. He turned.

“Because they are not looking for Slouch Hat.”

Fafnir looked up through the steam. “Then why say so? And why should you not believe it when the herdsmen so clearly do?”

“You do not believe it either,” Padric said.

“No, but I am well-traveled and weary with the world. I see brigands and deceit everywhere. I am a dwarf, a mercenary people it is said, who seek only to sell their loyalty. Who am I to be trusting? Or trusted?” He fixed Padric with a friendly, knowing look. “Not much to do today, anyway. I can finish this alone. Take the day if you like, rest up…or whatever you like.”

Padric made for the ale house and begged some food from Jileen before grabbing his pack, axe and knife. He caught up with the trio an hour later. Faabar’s hut was vacant, but the fomori’s heavy steps and the splayed prints of Deglan’s giant toad were easy enough to follow. He found them on a meandering goat trail, headed up into the high country northwest of the village. Faabar was the first to turn and see him coming, but it was Rosheen who flew back to meet him.

“Go back,” she said firmly, but Padric hiked right past her without a glance. “Padric, this is no game. Go back.”

“Bugger off.” It was harsh, but Padric was angry, sick of being disregarded. He made his way up the trail, eyes ahead, where Deglan and Faabar stood watching and waiting.

Rosheen was fluttering at his side. “Padric! Look at me! We will be back tonight, just wait for us in the Wallow! There is no reason you should go! Padric! Would you stop a moment? Look at me! Dammit! Padric!”

He ignored it all and only stopped when he reached the daunting pair. The gnome looked annoyed, but the fomori’s face was still.

“Where she goes, I go,” Padric told them. It was the only explanation he could give.

Deglan sucked at his teeth. “Then neither of you go.”

Padric wished the gnome luck with that declaration. Rosheen was as unstoppable as the tide when her mind was set. “I go where I wish, Master Loamtoes,” she said and turned her fuming face back to Padric. “I am sorry, but this is no place for you. For a mortal. You must trust me, it is too dangerous.”

“What is, Rosh?” he kept his voice even. “What is too dangerous? Hunting a man made of straw? You will need to do better than that if you want to frighten me off. I am not a boy anymore.”