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His crooked spine straightened a bit. “Of course.”
“I could also use a contact along my way.” She considered briefly. “Have someone meet me in Danjuma.” It was about halfway to the capital, so it should give the rebels time to gather a solid report.
“I’ll see it done,” he said. “There’s an inn there owned by a sympathizer. It’s on the north edge of the city—the Panther’s Den, it’s called.”
From the corner of the tavern, men cried out in disappointment.
Serene looked over, unsurprised to find Cardon pushing through the ring of spectators. He’d noticed she was missing, and he’d abandoned the game.
His narrowed eyes searched the room for her, ignoring the men behind him who begged him to go back to the table.
“I have to go,” Serene told the owner of the Fiddler.
The old man grasped her hand. “Go with the fates, Princess,” he whispered fervently. “And may they protect you. Not all is well in Zennor—or Eyrinthia, for that matter.”
She frowned. “What’s wrong in Zennor? Is it the clans?”
“That’s only part of it,” he said.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Wilf notice Cardon. He rose and moved toward her, and she knew Cardon would be right behind him.
Serene leaned closer to the man. “What else can you tell me?”
“People are vanishing,” he said. “Especially in the north, along the border.”
Serene’s scalp prickled, thinking of the Devendran refugees that had gone missing near the border. The Ivern River created a natural barrier between Zennor and the other kingdoms, but there were plenty of places for boats to cross. “Do you know where the Devendrans are disappearing?” she asked the man.
The lines on his face grew more wrinkled. “I don’t know about any missing Devendrans. I was talking about the missing Zennorians.”
“Zennoriansare vanishing?”
He nodded, still gripping her hand. “Entire households. Men, women, children. No one knows why, but some suspect the clans are killing them, but I’ve seen clan violence before. They leave smoking ruins behind, and bodies. This, though . . . this is eerie. Empty houses discovered by neighbors. Some people are abandoning the smaller villages along the jungle’s edge. Not safe, they say.”
Serene wanted to press for more, but Wilf and Cardon arrived.
Feeling their tension, she tugged her hand from the older man. “Thank you,” she told him with false cheer. “I hope you have a lovely night.”
The man’s tongue darted over his lips. He viewed the two hulking men and cleared his throat. “You as well.”
Serene slid off the stool, and Cardon instantly grasped her elbow. Keeping her close to his side as he pulled her toward the door, he said, “I told you to stay close to me.”
“I finished my ale and wanted another. While I was waiting, I thought I’d strike up a conversation.”
“You shouldn’t have approached him alone,” Cardon said tersely. “He could have hurt you.”
“He was harmless. And he looked lonely—I thought he might like to talk. And since we came here for information . . .”
Wilf grunted from behind them. “He grabbed your hand.”
Cardon’s hold on her flexed minutely, but tellingly.
She’d scared both of them.
She sighed. “I was perfectly fine. He said I reminded him of someone. I was never in any danger.” As they passed the swollen crowd of spectators around the arm-wrestling table, Serene paused. “I didn’t get the last of my winnings.”
Cardon tugged her toward the door. “You forfeited them when you walked away—consider it your punishment.”
That didn’t seem fair, but she decided not to argue. She’d pushed her guards far enough tonight, and she was anxious to know what they’d learned.
