Who was this young bandit?  And why did Morlique get the feeling that there was more to this boy than mere tricks and swindles?

“Bloody hell.”  Fenn paused at the edge of the cliff and stared out at the hundred-meter drop. 

       The trail – on which the boy and the witch had been trudging upward, and ever upward, for over an hour now – simply ended at a tangle of roots and weeds.  And the only thing beyond the tangle was empty space, except for a narrow log bridge.  The bridge looked as if it was barely wide enough for a squirrel.  No handholds, no guard rails, no safety measures.  “You’ve got to be joking,” Fenn muttered, staring at the hollow log thr...

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