The settlement was called Lowbridge, a practical cluster of timber and stone houses straddling a slow river. The cook-smoke they had followed belonged to a communal kitchen that fed travelers and locals alike. When eight dusty, spiral-marked strangers walked out of the grassland, the entire place paused, then decided on hospitality before suspicion.
The kitchen keeper was a broad man named Hald who took one look at their scars and the lens and simply pointed them toward the long tables. “Edge-walkers, from the talk on the road. Sit. Eat. Explain later if you can. The children have been drawing divided circles in the dirt for three days. We will take any explanation that lets them draw something else.”
Food arrived in generous, ordinary portions—stew, bread, roasted roots, and a sharp loc
