Finally Panamon halted in the middle of the slain men, uncertain what he should do next. Shea could only stare in horror at the carnage, his shocked gaze moving robotlike from one dead face to the next, from Gnome to Elf, from the raw, open wounds to the bloodied ground. At that moment, he knew what death really meant and he was afraid. There was no adventure in it, no sense of purpose or choice, nothing but a sickening disgust and shock. All those men had died for some senseless reason, died perhaps without ever knowing exactly what they had fought to accomplish. Nothing was worth such terrible slaughter-nothing.

A sudden movement by Keltset snapped his attention back to his companions, and he saw the Troll pick up a fallen standard, its pennant torn and bloodied, the pole broken in half. The insignia on the pennant was a crown seated over a spreading tree surrounded by a wreath of boughs. Keltset seemed very excited and gestured vigorously to Panamon. The other frowned sharply and hurriedly made a quick study of the faces of the nearby bodies, working his way outward from his companions in a widening circle. Keltset looked around anxiously, suddenly stopping as his deep-set eyes came to rest on Shea, apparently fascinated by something he saw in the little Valeman’s face. A moment later Panamon was back at his side, an unusually worried expression clouding his broad features.

“We’ve got real trouble here, friend Shea,” he announced solemnly, resting his hands determinedly on his hips and planting his feet. “That standard is the banner of the royal Elven house of Elessedil-the personal staff of Eventine. I can’t find his body among the dead, but that doesn’t make me feel any easier. If anything has happened to the Elven king, it could start a war of unbelievable proportions. The whole country will go up in smoke!”

“Eventine!” exclaimed Shea fearfully. “He was guarding the northern borders of Paranor in case…”

He caught himself abruptly, afraid that he had given himself away, but Panamon Creel was still talking and apparently hadn’t heard.

“It doesn’t make any sense-Gnomes and Elves fighting out here in the middle of nowhere. What would bring Eventine this far away from his own land? They must have been fighting for something. I can’t under…” He paused with the thought left hanging, unspoken in the silence. Suddenly he stared at Shea.

“What did you just say? What was that about Eventine?”

“Nothing,” the Valeman stammered fearfully. “I didn’t say. . .”

The tall thief snatched the hapless Valeman by his tunic front, dragging him close and raising him bodily off the ground, until their faces were only inches away.

“Don’t try to be clever, little man!” The flushed, angered face seemed gigantic and the fierce eyes were narrowed with suspicion. “You know something about all of this-now talk. All along I’ve suspected you knew a lot more than you were telling about those stones and the reason those Gnomes bothered to take you prisoner. Now your time for fooling around is over. Out with it!”