The prince's excitement was not reassuring. Who BETTER to send than somebody the boy trusted so deeply, if the goal was kidnapping him again... or killing him.

After all he had just been through, his mind was a relentless fountain of terrible thoughts too unspeakable to name let alone utter, and through all of them, a mental image of his home and nearby village on fire.

He shook his head crossly, trying to force the image and implication of this being a deception meant to lure them back into a trap from his head, but only half succeeding, then responded to the prince.

'List'n Alec, I just done an' did in at wrinkled ol' sumbitch inna multi-color'd pyjamas, I ain't tuh keen on gittin' fuck'd o'er by no damn rott'n fish 'rear admiral', gots it? Think 'bout it a minute: who be'er ta nab ya ag'in 'an sumbuddy yas trusts implicit like? 'Specially if dey da 'smooth talkin'' type, ya know?  At black thingmabob were likely da work a dat white ol bedsheet, Doct'r Solom'n. He da one as found sum scary new way ta cajole da dead like 'at. Why he'd be want'n us ta head back be anuhbody's guess, but I dun wan' be caught wit no way out down 'ere, if'n we goes investigates what dey up ta. Le'ss fin' a way out on 'is end AFORES we go an see whats-what back atta way. Dey dun set us up a ambush? We gots a straight shot outta here, we plays it smart firs'! We JUS' got you outta em' murd'rin' asshole's slimy blood-stained hands, I don wanna jus' slip ya right back in em, chasin' lit'ral ghosts with muh britches down an' no plan, aright?"