When the ferry docked, the passengers hurried off. The wealthy rode out on horses, often with a wagon in tow. Those who were less affluent led burdened packhorses. The poorest travelers carried but a sack or basket. Farilane watched the crowd of barge patrons as they mingled with those on shore, forming into two distinct groups: those who knew each other and those who’d just met. They all followed the well-worn road that hooked north toward Merredydd. As they moved past, a few cast curious looks at Farilane and her companions. No one paused to inquire. After all, the three of them were on foot and carrying only a few small packs. They simply weren’t worth noticing. Shrouded by her old traveling cloak, Farilane appeared as one of the many impoverished wayfarers. Sheldon, in his filthy, ragged clothes was legitimately pitiable. Only Kile, in his unstained cape and tunic, appeared the odd man out. They likely thought he was a well-to-do merchant with his servant and his servant’s wife. Farilane looked at Sheldon and shivered at the thought.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied.

All land traffic east of Percepliquis went north because anyone headed south to the port city of Vernes traveled by river. There was nothing to the east. Toward the rising sun lay only the uninhabited scrub fields of the lower province of the Instarya peninsula. Too stony to cultivate, it was used mostly by poor Percepliquin shepherds, who went to the effort of ferrying their flocks across the river to graze. There were no flocks that morning, no shepherds or dogs, just the short-cropped grass of an overgrazed landscape. A few miles beyond would be the east branch of the Bernum and across it nothing but a wilderness of forest. Hopefully somewhere within its trees was hidden a remote monastery called Dibben.

As the parade of Merredydd-bound travelers and their dust cloud disappeared over the hill and behind trees, the ferry began its return trip. Farilane, Kile, and Sheldon stood alone. No one moved. No one spoke. Farilane was required to start the next act. She climbed away from the river, up the slope to the top of the bank, where she stopped. There, with one foot on the worn trail and the other in the ragged, abandoned pasture, she straddled the line between the known and the unknown, the safe and the dangerous. She waited. Kile and Sheldon followed, then stood to either side.

If I just start walking, will they follow? She was confident they would.