Joren Bell found the first promising lead four hundred miles from the city and two sentences apart in a caravan master's account.
"Moonlight at noon," The man said. "Fey creatures in the trees. Orcs on the high ground beyond them."
Joren stopped writing.
Across the table, Basil moved his cup away from the map before his sleeve could knock it over. Orren continued sorting the other reports they had purchased from the caravansary clerk.
"Did you see both places?" Joren asked.
"I saw the forest entrance. My outrider visited the highlands. Same journey, same trouble, and more broken equipment than either was worth."
"How far apart were they?"
The caravan master pointed toward a road that climbed through three frontier districts before disappearing into territory the city maps reduced to mountains.
"A day, perhaps two. We were delayed after the second town."
The answer was close enough to justify travel.
