Oliver read and reread the note. The words kept slipping out of his brain no matter how many times he saw them, like a sea of fish escaping through a ratty old net. His heart beat faster and faster in his chest with each repetition.
He set the note down, no longer able to stand looking at it. Outside, the storm had dulled to a steady drizzle. The rain beat a slow, sonorous rhythm on the leaves surrounding the hollow.
He had been summoned back by the Crownseekers. Oliver could not believe it. ‘Here, of all places!’ How had they learned he was here?
They must have smuggled the note into his bedroom. Oliver could not imagine how; if any Trebbon caught wind that another human was sneaking around through the Eight Trees, there would have been a village-wide uproar.
Unable to help himself, Oliver picked up the note again and read it once more. ‘Report?’ he thought blankly. They wanted him to report. But why?