“Yes, now you can appreciate how easily it can be hidden. Pan, how did you come across this?”
“It wasn’t too hard, not with the coins Romy gave me.” Pan wipes away the blood from his chin. His gloves are off and the mark on his hand glows.
“But what happened to your face?” I press.
“Oh, right. So, I was tellin’ Fearghal how you’re the Ybarisan princess, but you’re not evil. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, and you saved me from Oswald stickin’ me with his dagger—”
“You have to speed it up, Pan.” The square is controlled chaos with tributaries being ushered into the tavern. Now is not the time for a lengthy tale.
“Yeah, okay. I told him how I came here with you to look for the two legionaries who went missing and how no one’s been able to find so much as a hair. And then Fearghal said he had a gut feeling and that maybe we should go and talk to that other guy from last night. So we looked around until we found him and asked some questions he didn’t want to answer. That’s how I earned this”—he points to his injured face—“but we got it out of him.”
“Got what out of him?”
“Where the scouts went.”
Zander’s focus shifts from the vial to the toothless mortal. “You know where they are?”
“Aye. Sort of.” Fearghal shrugs. “They’re on their way to the saplings.”