Pen didn’t know if he would do that or not, but it would help if he could talk with Tagwen about it first. He watched the Dwarf rise on the taller Druid’s command and walk to the head of the bridge. He watched the Druids move back, signaling the Gnome Hunters to do the same. Pen waited until the area in front of the bridge was clear of everyone but the Dwarf, then stepped out onto the stone arch and walked across. He used the darkwand like a walking staff, leaning on it as if he were injured, pretending that was its purpose. Maybe they would let him keep it if they thought he had need of it to walk. Maybe pigs would learn to fly. He kept his eyes open for any unexpected movement, for shadows that didn’t belong or sounds that were out of place. He used his small magic to test for warnings that might alert him to dangers he couldn’t see. But nothing revealed itself. He crossed unimpeded, captives and captors staying back, behind the fire, deeper into the gardens, away from the ravine’s edge.

  When he was at the far side, he dropped down into a crouch, using the bridge abutments as shelter. He didn’t think they intended to kill him, but he couldn’t be certain.

  Tagwen moved close. They caught us with our pants down, young Pen. We thought we were watching out for you, but we were looking too hard in the wrong direction.» His bluff face wrinkled with distaste. They had us under spear and arrow before we could mount a defense. Anything we might have done would have gotten us all killed. I’m sorry.»

  Pen put his hand on the Dwarf’s stout shoulder. «You did the best you could, Tagwen. We’ve all done the best we could.»

 « Perhaps.» He didn’t sound convinced. His eyes searched the boy’s face. «Are you all right? Were you telling the truth about that thing that was tracking us? Was it really over there with you? I thought we’d lost it once and for all when we entered the mountains. Is it finally dead?»