“Hear ye, hear ye!” yelled a town crier as Kara and Quoril passed through a town square. Several of the sick lined the streets. Black veins could be seen on their skin. Boils formed. Too weak to move, they stared at the passerby’s that ignored them. “Can’t expect a farmer’s daughter to pay you,” Kara replied to Quoril. “The Merchant’s Council declares the Upper Cairou unsafe!” the crier continued. “Ever heard of the C.R.T.C.?” Kara asked as she glanced toward Quoril mid-stride. “Travel upstream of the river is not recommended!” the crier declared.