The bandits sent a runner ahead, before the village guards trooped out with their blades flashing. When the party drew close enough to see warriors in the guard stations—and the runner hadn’t returned—Barthol sent another. Both came back escorted by armed guards.

Ashyn had her speech prepared. She didn’t need it. The guards took one look at Tova and a second at her, and they ordered the bandits back. The warriors surrounded her like a shield and took her to the village.

The governor was waiting at the gate when they arrived. When she drew close enough to see his jowly face, he dipped his chin and bent one knee in a stiff bow.

“Ashyn of Edgewood,” he said. “It has been many summers, Seeker.”

She remembered him then. He’d visited Edgewood nearly ten summers ago.

“Sir.” She gave a slight bow, as taught by the court Seeker. Always show respect but never genuflect. Remember who you are. Remind them who you are.

“I bring you news of Edgewood,” she said. “The village is no more.”

The governor shifted his bulk and glanced at Barthol. “I heard something of that from the runner these men sent. I need to hear more, of course. After you have rested and been fed.” He waved to the guards to bring her inside.

“Wait,” Ashyn said. “There were children, from my village. They were taken by men. Are they here?”

“No, Seeker. We have seen no one but your party in a fortnight.”

“And my twin sister? You have not seen the Keeper?”

He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “No.”

He said something else then—platitudes and reassurances, from his tone—but she didn’t hear the words. He’d said the only thing that mattered.

Moria was not here.

Ashyn let the guards lead her through the gates.

Fairview was not like Edgewood. Ashyn realized that as soon as they entered. Of course, it looked different, with rounded, whitewashed buildings instead of squared, rough-hewn wood. And they were close enough to the edge of the Waste that villagers had brought in plenty of soil for yard gardens. But it was more than that. The people were . . . not the same.

They looked the same, of course. Mostly native to the region, though it was hard to tell because she saw few villagers as she was escorted through. In Edgewood, by this time of day the streets would have been humming with voices and laughter, footfalls and cart wheels, everyone off and about on their daily chores. Fairview was so quiet that her heart almost stopped, stricken by the irrational fear that she was walking into another empty town, decimated by shadow stalkers. That passed, of course. There were guards and a governor and villagers, just very few of them, most hurrying inside.