I knew a minstrel who went that way once and was never heard from again. His lute showed up in a secondhand shop out in Highford.”“Just follow the...main road out a day and look for a big tree with a wasp-nest in a fork of the branches,” said a hunter. “Go toward the morning sun from there until it is high in the sky. Then listen for the sound of a brook and follow it downstream to where the deer come for salt. Just on the other side of the stream is the path that becomes a wagon trail that leads. I turned around and headed towards table eight. Amidst my walk to him, my stride slowed, the bounce in my step lessened and the toughness a stripper had to possess–softened."You look like you could use another one," I said, placing the glass next to a half-empty drink. "You know. To loosen up. Stop looking like a cop. He looked himself over. "That's why no one's approaching you." You did." He picked up his drink and took a sip."I'm not afraid of cops." I sat down next to him. "Besides, I know. More

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