Pathfinder's Way (9 page)

She hoped Dane was able to include fruit as
one of the goods to be traded. She’d come to enjoy the many
varieties the Lowlands offered. It was one of the things she’d miss
when they finally headed home.

This town was three times the size of Birdon
Leaf in both population and the number of buildings. Like Birdon
Leaf, it had a large outer wall that encased the main town, though
many farms fell in the outlying territory. It was primarily a
farming village, but it also performed a robust trade with other
Lowland settlements.

That’s why the trade proposal had been met
with such excitement.

Most of the buildings were made of stone and
a clay-like plaster that dried to a creamy white. All the roofs had
the grey tint of slate, while the streets were smooth cobblestone
the likes of which had never graced a Highland village.

The town proper was surrounded by massive
stone walls. Spreading out from the stone center, acre upon acre of
farmland stretched until finally giving way to a dense crop of
trees.

Every spring the region funneled the spring
melt, feeding the rivers and streams that spread over the land like
spidery veins into irrigation channels that traveled over miles of
farmland. This enabled them to grow a decent crop even when drought
hit.

They even had a market where people could buy
supplies.

It wasn’t the nicest or biggest town the
Lowlands had to offer, but it would seem luxurious to the men in
Shea’s party. Shea had been many places and seen many things. This
wasn’t the best of what she had seen, but it wasn’t the worst
either. She’d guess it was middle of the road. Nice enough, but
hungry to be one of the trade meccas.

The town’s atmosphere was strange today, Shea
noted. A couple eyed her as they gave her a wide berth. Now that
she thought about it, the fruit merchant had seemed a bit subdued
as well. Normally, he was much more vocal in his welcome.

People had begun avoiding the spot where Shea
sat, until an invisible circle separated her from the rest of the
square.

It was as if a pall hung over the town. Fear
coated the houses, and Shea felt eyes watching her from the
windows. It had been in the elders’ faces as well. A tightness when
they argued and a reserve that was not normal for a simple trade
negotiation. It was as if they were waiting for something.
Something bad.

Shea tossed the core of the peach behind her
into one of the bushes.

She got up and walked slowly towards the
closest stall, stopping and perusing the goods. The two men in deep
conversation with the owner abruptly fell silent once they noticed
her. Giving the owner a chin dip, they departed.

Shea watched them go. Not her imagination
then.

She gave the owner, who eyed her hostilely, a
small smile before moving away. Never letting her attention focus
too long on any one thing, Shea noted that she seemed to be the
center of attention.

Was it just her or were the others from her
group experiencing the same thing?

She wound her way through the market, ending
up on the opposite side of the square. She found a bench seat
overlooking a small grassy area that was surrounded by narrow
garden beds filled with the first buds of spring

Maybe if the townspeople stopped focusing on
her, they would forget some of their fear, and Shea could hear
something interesting.

After a while, Shea grew tired of just
sitting there and leaned back, laying down on the bench to look up
at the sky. The clouds today couldn’t hold her attention, and
before long, she grew drowsy.

She drifted in that odd in between place of
sleep and consciousness.

“The elders have a plan, I tell you.”

“They’d better. No one wants to go the way of
Edgecomb.”

Shea kept her eyes closed, though she stopped
drifting.

The first speaker’s reply was muted.

“They do, and I’d bet anything those
strangers are factor into their schemes.”

Another response that Shea couldn’t make
out.

“Let them pay the tribute….” The second
speaker’s voice faded as he moved out of hearing range.

Well, wasn’t that interesting? It wasn’t
much, and Shea hadn’t understood most of it, but she was surer than
ever that something was very wrong in this town.

She opened one eye and grunted. The sun had
begun to set, scattering stripes of reds, oranges and blues in wide
arcs. It was probably best to head back to the lodging before full
sunset.

She rolled off the bench, grimacing at the
tight knots in her back, and stretched. Perhaps a bench wasn’t the
best place to sleep.

The walk back to her temporary home went
quickly. She passed few people, and the ones she met refused to
meet her eyes, keeping their heads tilted down or turned away.

She entered the two story house that served
as a part time inn. It was part time because the town didn’t have
many visitors. As a result, there wasn’t enough room for the ten in
Shea’s party. The men slept three to a room while Shea got her own
chamber.

Some of the men had had a few snide remarks
to say about that, but Shea mostly ignored them.

She’d have been just as happy in the stable,
but the innkeeper had been aghast that a woman would even consider
such a thing. No, a lady must have her own room.

Shea wasn’t a lady. She was a pathfinder.

Still. That bed was something else. Soft.
Comfortable. And the sheets felt amazing against her skin. It was
like sleeping on a cloud. A great, feathery cloud.

Yeah, Shea wasn’t too put out at
accommodating the Lowlander’s sensibilities.

“Where have you been?” Burke said from his
seat at the table.

Shea suddenly found herself the center of
attention from those filling their plates full of food. Shea’s
stomach rumbled, reminding her that the only thing she’d had since
breakfast was a peach.

“Thought I’d check out the market. See if I
could pick up any information.”

Shea grabbed a plate and frowned at the food.
The meat looked stringy and the vegetables wilted. She tapped a
roll against the table. It was hard.

Unsurprised, she placed it back on its plate
and dished out small portions of the meat and vegetables.

She should have grabbed a meat pie while at
the market.

“Oh? Learn anything?” Dane asked.

Shea settled at the table. It was a tight fit
with all of them gathered and two of the men had to eat by
balancing their dishes on their laps.

The inn’s matron bustled out of the kitchen,
the swinging door giving a brief glimpse of the large cast iron,
wood burning stove and the built in brick oven. It looked homey
with its yellow painted walls and white trim. Herbs hung from
drying racks and the meal’s makings littered the wooden island.

It didn’t look like the sort of kitchen that
would produce such substandard food. It looked like the sort of
place where the woman of the house might spend a lot of time doing
something she genuinely loved.

Shea murmured a “thank you” as the woman set
a pitcher of mead on the table along with several clean cups.

She waited until the woman retreated back
into the kitchen before responding to Dane’s question.

“Nothing concrete.”

“So you wasted the entire afternoon on
nonsense?” Paul rolled his eyes.

Shea shrugged. If that’s what he wanted to
call it.

This was the first time she’d had Paul on one
of her trips. It’d be the last time too. He was a large man who
always seemed like he was sucking on something sour. Nothing amused
him, but everything seemed to annoy him. He complained the entire
trip to Goodwin of Ria.

Shea had been reduced to making up excuses
for why she had to scout ahead so often. His near constant bitching
had tempted her to break her oath of never abandoning or causing
intentional harm to her charges.

“Useless,” Paul muttered when it became clear
Shea had no intention of responding.

The table got quiet as all of the men avoided
looking in her direction. Shea’s fork didn’t pause as she
methodically continued to eat.

At this point, she’d become inured to his
insults. He’d have to do better than that to get a rise from
her.

Paul turned his attention to new prey.

“How’d it go?” he asked Dane.

Dane shook his head and settled his elbows on
the table. Zrakovi had appointed him the leader for the expedition,
and recently he’d earned nearly as much hostility from Paul as
Shea.

Normally James was the diplomat on these type
of trips, but the elders had kept him back and sent Dane instead.
She thought it might have something to do with Edgecomb.

“It didn’t,” Dane said before taking a bite
of his roll. “We got the runaround all afternoon. Same as yesterday
and the day before.”

There was a large sigh around the table as
they realized they were stuck in Goodwin for another night.

Nobody wanted this.

Paul didn’t take the news well. He looked
like someone had spat in his food and then told him to eat it. He
sat back, folding his thick arms across his chest as he glared down
the table.

In the beginning, the stalled negotiations
hadn’t bothered anybody, but as the days passed and the mood in the
town became more and more tense, the men grew edgy and
combative.

“Something’s happening in the Lowlands.”
Witt’s voice was grim.

They nodded. It was growing more and more
obvious that something wasn’t right.

Paul scoffed. “Something is always happening
in the Lowlands. The wind changes direction, and they think the
next cataclysm is upon them.”

“Not like this,” Shea inserted. “There’s talk
of Edgecomb.”

Dane’s eyes shot to her as she carefully
placed the fork back on her plate. He knew she suspected the men
they rescued had been Trateri. The elders had ridiculed her
suspicions, and even the guild had expressed doubt when she sent a
missive recounting the events of last fall.

Everybody agreed it was probably one of the
bandit groups that occasionally claimed the Badlands as home. Shea
hadn’t been convinced. She still wasn’t.

Needless to say, the elders tried to place
the blame on Shea for everything that went wrong. To her surprise,
James stood up for her and even wrote a letter to her guild
explaining his part in the events.

The village elders had gotten a slap on the
wrist and a warning to start abiding by the contract or else lose
their pathfinder.

This had only increased the general sense of
disgruntlement the villagers felt and had sent the hostility
shooting through the roof. She’d dealt with difficult expeditions
all winter long. No one wanted to listen, even when it concerned
their safety. Two men had been injured after ignoring her warnings.
That had only made things worse, and now the people of Birdon Leaf
thought she was incompetent as well as lazy.

“What about Edgecomb?” Dane asked softly.

“People are saying it’s gone,” Burke, one of
the more easy going members in the group, interrupted, his eyes
alight at the prospect of sharing juicy gossip. “Burned to the
ground. No survivors.”

Fallon’s face flashed before Shea. She
wondered if he had something to do with that. He seemed perfectly
capable of punishing those who crossed him, and his men had looked
disciplined and trained.

“Nobody knows how it happened?” Dane
asked.

Burke shook his head.

“They do,” Witt interrupted. “Just not
telling us. Too scared.”

“Whole village is scared,” Sid said into his
plate.

Nobody disagreed. They’d all seen it.

“We need to leave,” Shea finally said. It had
been weighing on her mind all day. Something in the townspeople’s
behavior wasn’t right, and her instincts were screaming it was time
to go.

Dane and Witt considered her statement
carefully, though Burke openly scoffed and Paul rolled his eyes.
Those two could afford to be disdainful. Dane and Witt knew better.
Edgecomb had been a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.

“We can’t leave,” Paul argued. “We haven’t
completed negotiations yet. If we go back, the elders will have our
heads.”

Shea wanted to groan. Typical Highlander
response. Ignore the danger in favor of possible profit. Just once
she’d like to lead people who had an instinct for survival.

Paul turned to Dane. “If you fail here, you
won’t get another chance like this. The elders will never trust you
again. Do you really want to be stuck in the village while James
gets to experience Lowland luxuries?”

Dane’s jaw hardened. Everybody knew whoever
established reliable trade routes with the Lowlands would have
their fortune made. The expedition participants, with the exception
of Shea, all got a cut of the profits.

Shea’s lips tightened. They were going to
ignore her advice. Again.

She forked up some vegetables and stuffed
them in her mouth to avoid saying something unwise.

“It’s true that it would look bad to return
without finalizing the agreement,” Dane said slowly. His eyes
flashed to Shea who was chewing busily. “What makes you think we
should leave?”

Shea paused in the midst of cutting the
chicken and raised her eyes to find everybody staring at her. She
swallowed the food already in her mouth and brought her cup up to
take a cool drink of mead, using the time to turn the reasons over
in her head.

“Almost nobody was on the streets on my way
home,” she said, finally able to figure out what had been bothering
her on the walk home. “It was nearly dinner time but even so, how
many times have those streets been totally empty? The one person I
saw made it a point to avoid looking at me.”

She paused to meet the men’s eyes to see that
they were listening. Or some of them were anyway.

“The elders have been stalling since we got
here. It doesn’t take ten days for a simple trade agreement. All we
had to do was trade the tali for the wheat. They’re waiting for
something. Something big and we’re not going to want to be around
when that something arrives.”