It seemed as though they’d been walking forever, and it had been on the tip of Jahl’s tongue for quite a while to ask how close they were to the property, when Brocknor announced they had arrived.
“See that house over there.” He pointed to a roof barely visible over the young, green stalks of wheat pushing up from the ground. “That’s one of the houses. We’ll call in there first. I want to check that everything’s all right, and then we’ll find a nice place to have our lunch.”
At the farmhouse, a woman named Shiara welcomed Brocknor and Jahl into the kitchen. The furniture was simple and sparse, much of it battered and worn, but the room felt warm and cosy like a home should feel; more so than the villa did.
“I’ll fetch you some water. You must be parched.” She turned to a girl of about f
