That evening Junius and Marius studied the map they had brought of the area. The room was lit by several oil lamps, which were scattered around the room to illuminate the darkness. The map was spread out on a table in an office they’d found in the governor’s palace, its corners held down by lamps.
“I think it’s here,” Marius said indicating an area around the fort with his finger.
“It makes sense. It’s close to the mountains and near the abandoned mines. The patrols would have to ride past this section to get to the foothills.” Junius scrutinized the details on the desk. “And it’s not growing here, between the road and the fort, because not everyone’s affected.”
Marius straightened and stretched. “Only those on patrol, but not the horses?”
Junius shook his head without taking his eyes from the map. “Apparently not. And there’s been very little evidence of the Roxolani people for two months. He glanced up. “It does add up.”
“So you’re convinced it’s not the grain then?”
“Marius, we saw their process and spoke to the slaves. Without prompting, the quaestor confirmed today what the traders had suggested to you. I don’t particularly like him, but he’s good at his job.”
“So we leave at first light?”
“It’s time to find out exactly what’s happening at the fort. We’re going foraging for mushrooms,”Junius told him with a grim smile.
Marius watched his friend, then turned back to the map. “What if it’s not that? What if it’s something else? I mean, it’s why we were sent here in the first place.”
Junius didn’t answer. Eventually Marius glanced up and met his friend’s wary eyes.
“Then we’ll just have to face that and take it one step at a time.”
“I can’t trust you, Junius, not after what you told me. You understand that, don’t you?” Marius reminded him.