Luke confirmed the tax collector's suspicion with a single answer.
"Last night."
For the first time since arriving, the older man's composure slipped.
"How many?"
"More than thirty."
The tax collector stared at him.
His gaze moved slowly across the village again. He saw the repaired sections of the wall, fresh bandages, tired faces, and the strange silence hanging over people who were usually far more relaxed whenever he visited.
There were no prisoners waiting beside the gate. There were no bodies. There was no obvious sign of where more than thirty armed men had gone.
"What happened?"
Luke looked toward Lucien.
Lucien returned the look and understood immediately.
There was little reason to hide the truth now.
The tax collector had heard that the Iron Jackals were moving toward the village and had rushed here with additional escorts. That alone told them enough about where he stood.
Luke invited him farther inside.
