“Crowlin?” Sage called, stepping out of the inn.
“Here.” Crowlin called, turning and walking over to him. “I’m ready to go.”
“What did you tell the horse?” Sage said, sounding amused. Crowlin turned to see that the horse he’d been talking to followed right along behind him.
“I only gave him a name.” Crowlin said as the horse nudged him. “Windcrest? Do you like that?”
“Looks like he does.” Kashé said, stepping out of the inn. “Sage tells me we’re going to Wayward to look for a sage?”
“Hold, you lugs. When did we decide we were going to Wayward?” Deviån demanded, stepping out after Kashé.
“I don’t see you offering any brilliant ideas.” Sage zinged Deviån.
Deviån glared, and Kashé explained the decision to him. “There’s a sage in Wayward that studies eastern magic, and Crowlin’s book identified the masks as coming from a far eastern culture. He may be able to help us.”
“We should be tracking down the other five attackers, not running off to study.” Deviån muttered.
“There was nothing to track; they just disappeared after the massacre.” Coriko pointed out. “This is the only clue we have.”
“It’s better than blindly wandering.” Sage said. “Unless you have some magnificently brilliant insight into where they’ve gone?”
Deviån gave Sage a sarcastic look. “Fine. We’ll go to Wayward.”