“Did you find the ghost? Could you get rid of it?”
Rigan caught a warning glance from Corran, but his temper burned too hot for him to care. “We found the ghosts—all five of them. And the monster who killed them. Did you know the wheelwright was the creature? Did you give him the children to save your own skins?”
For an instant, shock and fear glinted in the mayor’s eyes before cold calculation took over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rigan’s slammed the burlap sack down on the table, and the men jumped, sliding back in their chairs. The rest of the crowd in the common room fell silent.
“I think you knew,” Rigan said, looming over the mayor until the man had to crane his neck and his multiple chins to see. “The ghosts said people in the village helped the monster. Supplied the children for it to eat. Who else could go unnoticed for so long?”
“You’re crazy. That’s… insane,” the mayor sputtered.
“You found them? The missing ones?” A man stood near the back of the pub. From his clothing and the dirt streaks on his pants, he looked like a farmer, probably stopping for a meal after bringing goods to market. His broad shoulders and muscular arms spoke of hard work, and while sun and hardship had weathered his features, Rigan guessed the man might only be a few years older than Corran.