Book 4. Chapter 32
Meredydd’s beautiful enchanted lance was still leaning against Cowl’s oversized backpack on the ground with the other weapons. Brin could only assume that whatever reason he had to leave was something about money, so why wouldn’t he take his most valuable possession?
Cid clinked his fingernails against the steel of his helmet, the sign of someone stressed who wanted to run his fingers through his hair and couldn’t. He dropped his hand and said, “Very well. I’ll go fetch him. Anwir, do you think you can track him?”
“Uh…” said Anwir.
“He can’t, not if he went to the city,” said Brin. He knew that from the [Hunters] in Hammon’s Bog. Unless you were Lurilan, [Tracking] completely failed in a busy street.
“I know my way around Fortmouth. I’m from here, too,” said Brych. “And Meredydd told me he’s from Sickside. If he went home, I can find him.”
Brin kept forgetting that most of these guys were locals here in Prinnash. He hadn’t actually asked any of them where they were from more specifically, mostly because none of the names would mean anything to him.
“What’s Sickside?” asked Cid.
“It’s the neighborhood closest to the river bordering Arcaena. Everyone gets sick there more often,” said Brych.
Cid sniffed, like he was already suffering from a runny nose in anticipation. “Very well. You and I will enter Fortmouth. The rest of you will find a suitable place to make camp.”