They began with the accused scout.
His name was Corl, a young man who had spent the last two days confined to his own house under the watch of neighbors who had once shared meals with him and now stood outside his door as though he might suddenly become someone else.
Vane understood within minutes why Valerica had insisted they start there.
Corl was exhausted.
Not angry. Not defensive.
Exhausted in the particular way of someone who had already stopped expecting anyone to believe him.
A cup of tea sat untouched beside him, cold enough that the thin steam had long since disappeared. Someone had brought it during the first day of the watch, apparently hoping to make the situation feel more humane. It had failed.
Corl sat with his hands folded tightly in his lap.
"I don't know how to prove I didn't write something," he said through Isole's translation. "That's the whole problem."
He stared at the floor.
