Again Evin grabbed Jorick’s arm, and his friend went silent. The Swamp Witch looked between the two of them, amused.

“So you say the village was burned down?” she croaked. “By dog-men? Hmm. Interesting.”

Before Jorick could snap at the woman again, Evin stepped in front of him and nodded. The woman was most certainly strange and more than a little off-putting, but she was an adult, and a witch to boot. He decided to play along and see if she could do anything for them.

“Yes. I guess since it’s, um, dark you might be able to miss it.”

Her thin lips spread into a wide, toady grin. “Perhaps.”

The woman tightened the knot of the kerchief covering her wispy white hair.

Evin cleared his throat. Behind him, Jorick’s hot, snorting breaths lashed against Evin’s neck.

Finally, the old woman sighed and threw her hands into the air. “I suppose you two aren’t going to stop bothering me unless I help you?”

“That would be quite kind of you, ma’am,” Evin said.

The Swamp Witch put one hand on her hip and jabbed Evin in the chest with the index finger of her other hand. “You ever go adventuring, boy? Aside from following the wall and sneaking up to my house?”

Evin shook his head. “No, ma’am. But I sure think I’d be able to. I’ve been preparing for years and years.”

“You know how to use those weapons you got?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Evin said. “Well … sort of. We practice a lot with, um, wooden ones.”

“Of course we know how to use weapons,” Jorick called from behind Evin. “What do you think we are? Kids?”

The Swamp Witch guffawed, the sound halfway between a bark and a belch. “Oh, of course not! I daresay you two are strapping young warriors, ready for oodles of battles.” Stepping back from Evin, the old woman turned, bent over, and peered at the grain sacks on the bottom of a nearby undestroyed shelf. Evin and Jorick waited expectantly.

The Swamp Witch shopped.

“Um, excuse me, ma’am,” Evin said after a long moment, doing his best to hide the irritation in his voice. “About that help?”

The Swamp Witch turned around and rolled her yellow eyes. “You two still here? Blast. I thought I might be able to trick you into leaving me be. Fine, fine.” Beckoning with a gnarled finger, she gestured for the boys to come close.

Evin and Jorick leaned in. The woman’s swampy stench was overwhelming, drowning out the smell of the ash and mud.

“You two ever hear of a wizard named Zendric?” the witch asked. “He lived in the old city of Curston. Perhaps you know of it?”

It took Evin a moment, but the memories bubbled of such a place—ruins of a great city that lay north of Hesiod. “Yes,” he said, “we know the place.”