“Well, there isn’t much to say,” one of the men said. “He attacked us. Threw an Awakened rope at poor Taff, who got tied up immediately. Rariv and I ran for help. Lolan stayed behind.”

Lightsong looked at the third man. “You stayed back? Why?”

“To help Taff, of course,” the man said.

Lying, Lightsong thought. Looks too nervous. “Really?” he said, stepping closer.

The man looked down. “Well, mostly. I mean, there was the sword, too . . .”

“Oh, right,” another said. “He threw a sword at us. Strangest thing.”

“He didn’t draw it?” Lightsong asked. “He threw it?”

The men shook their heads. “He threw it at us, sheath and all. Lolan picked it up.”

“I thought I’d fight him,” Lolan said.

“Interesting,” Lightsong said. “So you two left?”

“Yeah,” one of the men said. “When we came back with the others—after getting around that blasted squirrel—we found Lolan on the ground, unconscious, and poor Taff . . . well, he was still tied up, though the rope wasn’t Awakened anymore. He’d been stabbed straight through.”