Chapter Eleven
The search for Jasper drew everyone forth from the hall, first out into the enclosure and then, desperately, into the Outside proper. Every one of the makeshift buildings was searched from its mud-slick floor to the height of its thatch—or bare beams, in some cases—but no trace of the boy could be found. Iver directed the older folk to walk slowly through the grounds, pushing a broom or a rake, checking that there was no clue hidden by the sludgy floodwaters, now less than ankle-deep. Not deep enough, in truth, to drown in. That’s what Talis kept telling himself. There was not enough water in the compound for Jasper to have come to grief.
The moats around their walls and the purling, opaque water of the swollen Founders River were another matter. They could see clearly now
