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A dislodged stone and a shifted weed betrayed the route of the Visserian patrol. Sparse signs for such a tumbled terrain, indications they had sent good men. That meant they were looking for us. I held up a fist to hold Jake and Rafael in place. We needed a few more seconds of distance before I would let them move.

I have journeyed north with the riverboats as per our agreement. While the merchants were acquiring the drugs for which the Swamp Harvesters are famous, I was introduced to a native guide. We haggled over the price of his services for some time. He settled on a great length of silk rope and my favorite knife. Yes, the one with the ruby set into the handle. You will pay me a little extra for that sacrifice.
Zaldron the Sage is a grizzled man in his middle 50s. Most of his life has been spent reading, drinking, preaching, and whoring, though not necessarily in that order. Several times he has strayed far off the path of the holy man, but always managed to save himself at the last possible moment with some new revelation. A couple of years ago he reinvented himself as “The Preacher” and rambled from town to port railing against injustice and “saving’ the townsfolk. Now he has settled into Port Lissup, a much more amenable town...
