The town was large; perhaps two or three thousand people dwelled there at any given time. There were also visitors, folk who would come and go, but for the most part its inhabitants would live, and die, without straying from its furthest edges. The only time any significant number of people entered the town was on Great Market Day, on the first of each month, when the surrounding farmers and artisans would set up stalls in the central square and sell their goods.
It was two years before Brandyé was to see Elven again. Though Daevàr’s Hut was a comfortable six-day ride from Burrowdown, this made it nearly a month by foot, especially over the rough country. The south coach (and its return) was expensive, and as an apprentice Elven earned no pay. As for Brandyé, though he and Reuel were not strictly short for coinage, travel was not undertaken without purpose, and they had no business in Daevàr’s Hut that would warrant the journey.
Many months passed, and there was no word from the south and no sign of retribution from Garâth of the Fortunaé. The people of Burrowdown returned to their daily business, with anxiety at first, certain that at any moment constables of the Fortunaé would bear down upon them and set their town alight. Gradually, though, their nervousness faded, and as spring passed into summer the incident became of increasingly less concern, and on late evenings in the Burrow Wayde, people would even begin to laugh about what had happened.