Tombin was still extremely far away, and the Lightbringer had already been travelling for twenty-five days. She had seen few others on her journey since the caves of the Pajoli. This was her choice. She knew how to keep out of the way, to kill when she needed food, to find safe places to rest away from prying eyes and hungry stares.
At sunset on the twenty-sixth day, she saw the light of a small town within an hour’s walk. The pull of a soft bed, and maybe an ale or two was overwhelming, so she decided to take the risk.
She walked into town. A few watched her, some turned and stared, some ran and hid. Outsiders. It was all she had been called for many years. She was an outsider. She accepted that.
There was a beggar by the side of the road, and Derilion stooped and dropped a silver coin in his cup. A gold one would have attracted too much attention. She saw the man nod.
“What town is this?” she asked him. The man laughed quietly.
“This is the famous Ochiltree.”
“Ochiltree? What’s it famous for?”
The beggar sucked air through his teeth.
“If you don’t know now,” he said, “You soon will.”