Among them is a Steerswoman, dressed in their typical cloak, pants, shirt, and heavy-duty traveller's boots.

Rowan is newly arrived in Five Corners, chasing rumours that the innkeeper possesses a particularly large specimen of the mysterious blue jewels she's investigating. The question she seeks to answer: what are the blue stones? From where do they originate, and how? Finally - and most personally interesting to Rowan - are they magic, and in what way?

The inn has gathered a large, lively crowd - in one corner a caravan guide regales a merchant and his three daughters with various tales; in another, several more caravan members sit chatting with five soldiers dressed in the livery of the Red wizards, one of the two wizarding factions. A pilgrimage leader lectures his flock, while a local stands behind him and parodies his motions. Off to the side sit a full dozen Outskirters, the ring of silence around them slowly being breached by the more intrepid patrons. The innkeeper stands behind the bar, and on the grand mantelpiece sits a piece of wood, about the size of two fists beside one another, with a surface that glimmers in the firelight.

That must be the jewel she's heard about. The rumours say it was found embedded in a tree. 

Rather than go straight up to it and examine the object itself for clues, as she would like to, Rowan heads for the bar to ask the innkeeper about his prize. 

As she makes her way through the room, she turns over possible wordings in her head. A Steerswoman's questions must be answered truthfully; this is both a great help and a heavy responsibility. In turn, she cannot tell a lie. So, how to approach this...

"Welcome to my inn, traveler!" the innkeeper calls when she approaches. "How may I be of service?"

"A room for the night, if you please." True - it's too late to set off again at this point, even if she finds out all she needs to know this evening. 

Rowan leans a hand on the bar, angled so that her möbius-band ring is visible to the innkeeper. She is not particularly careful about hiding it from the other patrons; it's not as though she minds sharing her knowledge with curious folk. 

"A steerswoman, eh? Glad to have you. No charge for the room for you, lady, though I have a few questions about the road."

"Many thanks."

She's unlikely to get a better opening than this, tonight.

"I would be happy to answer your questions - and I have a few of my own to ask of you." 

"Well, ask away, lady. I'll get my daughter to cover the bar." He calls over his shoulder and a stout girl appears, slipping behind the bar as he steps out. The innkeep's daughter looks at the steerswoman with blatant curiosity and faint awe, but she remains professional and takes over for her father with ease.

"A question for a question?" Rowan proposes, once the innkeeper has relieved himself of his duties and they have found a relatively quiet corner in which to talk. 

"Until one of us runs out, that is." 

"I'd rather do everything in batches, to keep things straight and all."

"If that is what you prefer," she agrees easily.

"Your questions first, then." This is half politeness, half a ploy to give herself more time to think. 

His questions are all fairly minor things - which road she came by, its condition, some discussion of prices, the weather, that sort of thing.

She answers them happily.

For a few answers, she consults the notebook in her bag rather than trust her memory. She makes a habit of recording the major details of each day, including the weather and anything which caused problems, such as bad road conditions. 

"Was that all you wished to know?"

"Yes, lady. What about your questions?"

She has her notebook out already, and reaches for a writing implement to record his answers.

"That block of wood, on your mantel," she begins. "What is it?" 

"Ah, my jewel, you mean?" He goes to fetch it down from the mantel. "A real beauty. Found it some ten years ago, while felling trees out near my old home."

Ten years! Then there is not much hope of getting any useful detail out of him. Still, no harm in trying. 

"Where did you find it, exactly?"

"In a tree on the farm northeast of here, near-ish this old brook my brothers and I liked to play by as children. I could place it on a map, I suspect."

"That would be useful." 

Searching through her bag again, Rowan pulls out her map of the region around Five Corners, and spreads it out on the table. 

"Well would you look at that. Laid out just like we were birds." He points to the marking for Five Corners. "And here we are." Then to the northeast: "And right there's the old farm where my brothers and I all lived. Over here's where we were felling the trees, right past this here brook."

Rowan marks the spot as precisely as she can get the man to specify its location.

"And how did you find the jewel?" she asks next.

"Well, my brothers and I were out felling trees - some of them're here," he gestures up at the massive beams supporting the roof, "And I'm not quite as strong as my brothers, so I wander off a bit, try and find a tree more my size. I remember seeing the Eastern Guidestar through the branches, shining there like an omen. A few strikes of my ax, and there's this shimmer. Once I'd finished felling the tree, I cut the gem out."

Rowan draws a diagram in her notes, asking a few clarifying questions to establish from which direction he cut the tree.

Every detail could be important in this case, including such seemingly insignificant trivia as the position of the jewel within the tree. 

"Well, other than that I was facing the Guidestar, can't quite remember. Not sure where in the tree it was, that long ago."

That's the best she's likely to get. Still, given the time gap, it's impressive that he remembered even this much. 

"That will suffice; thank you."

And, since it's here: "May I examine your jewel in greater detail? I shall not harm it."