Chapter 43

The heroes made good time on the trek to East Cross Town. The horses had had a good rest in Dooma’s garden, feasting on her roses, and trotted willingly toward the outpost. The heroes could see the town from a ways off. Its ramshackle buildings seemed to lean out precariously from the base of the Mountains of Separation.

“East Cross Town doesn’t appear to be much to look at from a distance,” Falca said, perched on Bartz’s shoulder.

“We are not here to see the sights,” Bartz said.

And with that, they rode forward.

Turns out the main drag was worse than their lowest expectations. The town, if it could be called a town, was nowhere near as neat and clean, or pretty, as TechnoLot. It looked like a settlement out of the remote past with a bit of the future roughly dragged in, kicking and screaming as it came.

“Not exactly a tourist bureau’s delight,” Tomas said wryly.

Nata glanced at him. “It’s a dump.”

“What do we know about East Cross Town?” Ba