The Longest Road, Part 15
You decide that, all things considered, the assassin is the most pressing concern. You're not sure whether or not the hooded killer—or an agent of theirs—is actually in this town. But if they want to make another attempt on Khaytala's life, they'll need to monitor the caravan somehow. And if they haven't been trailing you on the way here, gathering intelligence this way is likely enough that it's worth looking into.
You spend a good part of the afternoon mingling with the villagers, discreetly inquiring about anyone who isn't native to Eckenburg. It takes some cajoling, but eventually you gather a picture of who fits that description. There are four of them staying in the village at the moment, though from what you hear, you get the impression that now that the danger is gone they're planning to depart soon.
As such, you'll probably only have time to investigate one of them in depth.
One of the strangers is a man whose black hair is peppered with grey and pulled back into a short ponytail. His most distinguishing feature is a scar running across his face, which you're pretty sure was made by a blade of some kind. He currently sits in a corner of the wrecked village pub, his back to the wall, drinking from a tankard of ale purchased from what remains of their alcohol supply after the orcs' destructive rampage through the village.
You saw him helping during the initial struggle to put out the fires, but you never got a close look. Could he have been avoiding you? Or perhaps avoiding Khaytala, who was usually nearby?
Another of the strangers is a girl in her middle teens, around Greta's age at most, with red hair hacked into a ragged, boyish cut, framing a face scattered with freckles. She seems to be traveling alone, and she does show particular interest in the caravan. Even now, she's talking eagerly with a few of the guards and workers. Of course, it could be perfectly innocent curiosity... or a ploy to gain information for a more deadly purpose.
You recall that she was one of the last people to emerge from the safety of the town hall. She kept her distance from the firefighting altogether, leaving that to the adults as she flitted here and there, never staying in one place for too long.
The next stranger is a blonde woman wearing religious vestments, which you learn are those of a "Sister of Selal". You can't quite place her age; at first glance she looks to be in her late thirties, but the more you look at her, the more you get the sense that she's not as young as her features would indicate. Her face does have a slight elfin look to it. Not enough to call her even a "half-elf"... but you suspect there might be a bit of that ancestry far back in her family line. If so, she could be quite a bit older than she seems.
She currently waits in the desecrated remains of the small village chapel, listening to private confessions from villagers and caravan members alike. Once or twice you catch her looking in your direction with a pointed gaze, but she looks away so quickly that you almost convince yourself you imagined it.
The final stranger—a plump, middle-aged woman dressed in brightly colored robes and an outlandish headdress—has a wagon of her own. It has a garish sign attached to its side, which reads "MADAME OLIVIA" in large bold letters. Underneath her name, in smaller text, are the words "Seer, Prophetess, Reader of Auguries, and Possessor of The Sight".
You chuckle under your breath. Those who claim to have the fabled "Sight" are common all across the Material Plane among carnival performers and traveling conmen, but it's usually nothing more than an application of grifting and charisma. You're familiar with the tricks yourself... and this woman looks like a particularly gaudy example. She sits outside her wagon, offering to read the palms of any who pass by. Quite a few seem to be taking her up on it, sitting down for long, rambling conversations as she runs her fingers across their palm.
Sighing, you reflect on the possibilities. Any one of them could either be the assassin, or be related to the assassin in some way. The hooded, cloaked figure was too distant to determine any details reliably, and it's always possible that the killer hired someone to spy on the caravan as well rather than coming in person. There's no way to know for sure... but if you're going to play this hunch of yours, you'll need to pick one of them to investigate thoroughly and hope it bears fruit.