It took two weeks for word to reach the East Redding about the raid on the WayStation . When Crevan returned to Palderton from a trip along the merchant roads through the edges of the Quaj-held forest, Tivaris, the news was already waiting for him.
Claude came to meet him outside the public house in the center of town, offering an already lit hand-rolled cigarette as Crevan dismounted from his horse. Crevan took it without comment, sniffed the smoke, and then raised one eyebrow in question. “First crop,” the older man told him. “Good yield.” He waited while Crevan smelled it again, and then watched, unsurprised, as he dropped the cigarette into the mud and ground it under his heel. “We can go out to look at it tomorrow if you’d like. But you ought to know first…” He trailed off.
Crevan threw his pack over one shoulder, and handed the reins to the stable-boy who came to take his horse. “You know I hate the ‘finish my sentence’ game, Claude. Spit it out.”