Yfandes is a marvel and it's awe-inspiring to watch her, at least until he's too tired for emotion. When they stop he mechanically stuffs water and travel-bread into his mouth. His mind feels worn as smooth and featureless as a river-rock by all the magic and miles.

Yfandes slurps back an impressive amount of water from the horse-trough, and nibbles some grain that the worried stablemaster at the tiny village inn brings out for her, and then she urges Abras back into the saddle. They have a lot more miles left to go. 

The food (and making a different set of muscle motions) wakes him up just enough to notice himself going back into the half-trance of channeling nodes as the country shoots past. He dimly wonders what they must look like, a white streak there and gone again, and whether they'll make Polsinn by nightfall.

They do, in fact, make Polsinn just before nightfall! Yfandes slows to a walk just around the bend in the road from the town. :Chosen, want to take a minute to fix your hair?: 

:What? Oh, right.: His hair is plastered into a ridiculous shape and has also picked up a leaf somewhere; he runs his hands through it until it's as normal as it's going to get, and looks around for Herald Jores or a Guard or anyone else informed-looking.

There's a guard standing outside the inn; he hops down from the steps and waves. "Herald Abras?" 

"That's me. I saw the signal flag; what's happening?"

"Why don't we go in and grab Herald Jores, lad, and he can explain." The Guard seems a bit nonplussed by Abras' appearance. His obviously young age, presumably. 

:I can get myself to the stables: Yfandes reassures him. :You go in and get your briefing: 

Abras sends Yfandes a mental nod and follows the Guard. It's very reasonable of him to be surprised (and disappointed) they sent someone so young (and disheveled).

Inside, a Herald stands up. He's young, though in his case that means 'early twenties', and he looks tired and stressed but not nervous. He reaches to grip Abras' arm. "Come on, sit down. You got here fast! We were told not to expect you for another few days." 

Abras sits down. "I saw the signal flag this morning." Ugh, he's repeating himself.

The Herald just looks confused. “I thought you were a Herald-Mage, not a Farseer?" 

"Both. And, um, what's the story here?"

"Not sure how much you got in the report, but - people have been going missing for months in this region. Once or twice someone found the bodies, and they were…mutilated.” Jores shudders briefly, but his face stays controlled. “Most of the missing folk were smallholders, farmers, and we only really put the situation together a week or so ago. My Kasi says mages are involved. Not that I would know.” Pause, deep breath. "And this morning the mayor's daughter was missing. She's about twelve."

So they're definitely still active. Fuck. At least that means the trail isn't cold. "When and where was she last seen?"

"Last night, she went to bed as usual. This morning her window was broken, looks like there was a struggle just outside of it. Not much in the way of a trail any of us could follow, but you've got mage-senses, Kasi thinks if a mage took her they might've left traces of magic around." 

"That's a good idea; I can go take a look." He stands up (and winces a bit; his legs seem to have been baked into the shape of his saddle). "Which way to the house?"

Herald Jores springs up as well, and can show him. "It's getting dark soon, we probably can't go after them tonight," he says regretfully. "Guess your mage-senses work in the dark anyway, though." 

"Yes. And if I look now nothing will have the chance to interfere with it overnight." He scrutinizes the area around and inside the broken window.

There's not much, it's very faint, but there are some sort of magical traces; it must have been a mage here, and they clearly did some casting while they were capturing the girl. 

Given his Pelagirs experience with the Tayledras scouts, he can recognize the faint tang of blood-power. 

"It was definitely a mage, that did it. . . . And they used blood magic. Probably not here, but not too long beforehand."

Herald Jores shivers. 

"Can you follow it any further?" he says in a low voice. 

"I can try." He faces away from the house and turns in a slow arc, his physical eyes unfocused as he searches for a direction.

He can find it! Sort of. It's very faint and muddied and feels like he's half-guessing, but it seems to go that way, crossing a path and approaching a tall hedgerow.