The inspector could barely stand upright by the time I reached him, one arm braced against the gatehouse wall, his face grey with exhaustion and something closer to genuine terror. I had seen men frightened of swords, of noble tempers, of the King's justice. This was different from the fear of a man who'd watched something spread faster than reason could account for.
"Three dead," the inspector rasped again, as Arwen arrived at my side, already stripping the practiced calm of court composure into something sharper, more focused. "Maybe more by now. It started with the well water, or so the villagers believe, but it's moving too fast for simple contamination. Fever within hours. Some of them coughing blood by nightfall."
"How far from the granaries?" Arwen asked.
"Half a day's ride east,
