The young man’s hands trembled. “A stranger came through days ago. Not a wanderer.” He rushed the words out, as if once they were spoken, they could not be taken back. “He asked about old paths.”
Dar’s expression did not change. “Old paths to where?”
The young man’s throat bobbed. “To Driochmor.”
Elara felt the room tighten at the name.
“He didn’t ask it openly,” the young man added quickly. “Not at first. He spoke like a man merely curious—like he was unfamiliar with the area and wanted to make sure he avoided the paths to the forbidden land.”
Dar’s voice stayed level. “What did he look like?”
“Taller than me. Wrapped in a dark cloak. His face… I didn’t see it well, his hood concealing much of it.” The young man frowned hard, trying to think of more. “His hands were lean and had a good grip on his tankard. It made me think he had strength to him.”
“You observe well,” Dar praised. “Which direction did he take when he left?”
The young man appeared pleased by the praise and was quick to offer more. “South. Toward the bend where the road forks. Away from the paths to the forbidden land.”
Dar nodded once. “You’ve done well. You may go.”
The young man bobbed his head, a slight smile surfacing as he hurried off.
A moment later, another villager stepped forward—older, broader through the shoulders, his stance cautious.
“I saw the wanderer the following morning,” he said. “He was on the road headed east.”
Dar’s eyes sharpened. “East toward where?”
“Toward Chieftain Pratus’s castle.”
A ripple of unease stirred through the room.
“He walked with purpose. Like he knew exactly where he was bound… straight for the castle.”
Dar absorbed that in silence and dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.
The man inclined his head and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Dar, Elara, and his men were the only ones who remained, one Hunter still stationed by the door. No one had been allowed to enter without permission from Dar. No one had been allowed to linger to hear what was being said.
Dar leaned back slightly, fingers resting on the table. “A quiet wanderer who avoids company and makes his way toward Pratus’s castle. And a stranger asking after paths to Driochmor.” His gaze lifted to Elara. “Yet we have heard no talk of fae folk.”
Before she could answer, the door creaked open.
Vanessa stood there, her shawl drawn close, her lined face pale but resolved.
Elara leaned toward Dar. “That is Vanessa—the woman I spoke with earlier.”
Dar’s gaze shifted to the woman, assessing her.
Vanessa closed the door carefully behind her and, with a nod from Dar for her to approach, walked slowly to stop before the table.
“I did not wish to speak before the others,” she said quietly. “Some things are better left unsaid in a crowd.”
Dar’s voice was even. “Then say them now.”
Vanessa’s eyes flicked briefly to Elara, then returned to Dar. “You asked about wanderers and strangers. But that is not what troubles Ancrum most.”
“Tell me,” Dar ordered firmly.