It had the look of another world, of a place and time he could barely imagine. He was still enmeshed in the world of the tanequil, of orange–tipped leaves and mottled bark, of massive limbs and roots, of a sentient being older than Man. His memories of the past two days were still so painfully fresh that they dominated his present and threatened to overwhelm his fragile determination.

  He despaired.

 « That’s a pretty piece of work,” Tagwen said suddenly, nodding down at the darkwand. «It might help if it wasn’t so shiny.»

  He eased back on his heels and reached behind him for a handful of damp earth, then rubbed it along the length of the staff, clotting the runes, dulling the surface. He worked in the shadows, shielding his movements.

 « If they take it away from you,” he said, finishing up, «tell them you found it in the ruins. Tell them you don’t know what it is. If they think it was given to you to help the Ard Rhys, you’ll never see it again. You might keep it long enough to use it if they don’t suspect what it’s for.»

  Pen nodded. He stood up, one hand gripping the staff. He leaned on it once more, as if he needed its support. «Go back to them. Tell Kermadec to be ready. Khyber is still out there, somewhere. I saw her while coming back to you. She should have been here by now. She might be watching all this, and I don’t know what she will do.»

  The Dwarf took a quick look around, as if thinking he might see her in the darkness, then nodded and rose, as well. Saying nothing, he returned to the Gnome Hunters and the encircled Rock Trolls, his head lowered. The Trolls watched him come, but did not rise to greet him. Pen waited until he was seated among them again, then looked over at the Druids, who were standing to one side.

 « Do you promise my friends will not be harmed?» he asked again.