3
‘That feeling,’ said Wyr, attempting to writhe out of my grip, ‘is not mutual.’
‘That’s too bad,’ I said, handing him off to Emellana. He didn’t stand much chance of getting away from her. ‘What are you doing here? And where’s our scroll-case?’
‘I sold it,’ he said, eyeing Em with distaste. ‘Obviously. What else would I do with it?’
‘Take an interest in a certain map that was drawn on it, by chance?’
‘What map.’
‘Ah. So your appearance up here is a coincidence.’
‘Apparently.’ He smiled at me, and flicked the brim of his hat.
I felt like sweeping that hat off him and hurling it (or him) off the peak.
‘Look, this is not going to fly. You’ve some kind of interest in the Hyndorin Mountains, and if you don’t speak up, Em’s going to break you into pieces and feed you to the birds.’ I’
