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“Overrated skill,” Agatha said with a dismissive wave. “My late husband always said a clean floor never fixed a broken wheel.”

She smiled despite her worries. She’d always liked Agatha, though they’d rarely spoken at length. The old woman had a reputation for speaking her mind regardless of who might be offended—a quality she respected.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any proper snacks to offer,” she admitted.

Agatha waved away her concern. “I’ve just come from the baker’s. I have more than enough to share.” She pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from her basket and revealed several fresh pastries. Bella smiled at her but shook her head. Her stomach was too uneasy for food.

“Now, tell me what’s on your mind while the water boils,” Agatha continued.

She hesitated, measuring her words carefully. “My father went to the northern fair to sell some of our inventions.”

“Through the mountains,” Agatha stated rather than asked.

“Yes. He’d traded for a box of books from one of the passing traders this spring. One of the books claimed to be a history of Cresca, although it read more like a fairy tale. But it contained a map of this area, and the map showed the road through the mountains. When we heard that the mayor was negotiating a trade route through the mountains, he was sure she was referring to that old road.”

Agatha snorted. “That woman is blinded by her own greed.”

She couldn’t argue, but it didn’t help her immediate concern.

“Papa decided to use the road, but he should have been back by now.” She twisted her fingers. “I’m worried something might have happened to him on the journey.”

“And you’re planning to go after him.”

The old woman’s perceptiveness didn’t surprise her. “I am. The problem is that he took the map with him. I know the general direction, but…”

“But the mountains are treacherous for those who don’t know the way,” Agatha finished. The kettle whistled, and Bella poured the hot water into the cups.

“I was hoping you might know the path since you’ve lived here longer than anyone else,” she said, setting a steaming cup in front of Agatha. “And even though it goes through Vultor territory, I don’t think that would bother you.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“Well your granddaughter has a Vultor mate now, but it’s more than that. I’ve seen you talking with the Vultor during the negotiations and it’s not just polite conversation—you talk to them as if you know them.”

“We’ve had… encounters over the years.”

She leaned forward eagerly. “Then you do know the way?”

“I know many things about those mountains,” Agatha said slowly. “Including that they’re dangerous, especially now.”

“I don’t have a choice. My father?—”

“Might be perfectly fine, child. The wagon could have broken down. The fair might have run longer than expected.”

“Or he could be hurt, or lost. Please, Mrs. Ashworth. I need to find him.”

Agatha sipped her tea, considering. “I know the road,” she said finally. “Though I haven’t traveled it myself in many years.”

“Could you tell me how to find it?”

“I could, but are you certain this is wise? The mountains are treacherous even in good weather. And with the negotiations stalled…”

“I have to find him,” she said simply. “He’s all I have.”

Agatha studied her for a long moment, then nodded as if coming to a decision. “Very well. Go past my cottage to where the eastern road crosses the river but instead of going over the bridge and continuing down the road, follow the river back into the mountains. Turn east where the river forks. There’s a stone marker there—can’t miss it. The road climbs from there, winding up to Raven’s Pass.”

She quickly pulled out her crude map, sketching as Agatha spoke.

“On the other side of the pass, the road descends through a dense forest before reaching the northern valley.” Agatha paused. “But there’s something you should know. The road passes close to an old keep—abandoned now, but once the home of a Vultor noble family.”