Shea had turned to go when Elder Zrakovi’s voice pulled her back. “They didn’t go to the north reaches.”
She stopped dead. Of course they hadn’t.
The villagers were supposed to check with her when they left the village so she could make sure the areas they traveled were safe. She dropped her head slightly while she schooled her expression back to neutrality. Only when her face showed a placid blankness did she face the men.
“Where did they go?”
“Below the Bearan Fault,” Zrakovi said gruffly.
“You mean the Lowlands,” Shea said, each word pronounced very precisely.
More than one man found themselves avoiding her eyes.
She shook her head slightly. Fools. The Bearan Fault was a line of cliffs nearly two hundred miles long. It was the gateway to the Lowlands.
Lowlanders were dangerous. Crazy too. Shea had dealings with them in the past, but it was always with one eye on the exit and a hand on her weapons. You just never knew what they were going to do.
One time, they had set fire to her clothes. While she was still in them.
She hated Lowlanders almost more than Highlanders.
“I told you not to send anybody into the Lowlands without me there to act as guide,” Shea said, her voice as polite as she could make it given the pulse pounding at her temple.
Zrakovi slammed his hand down on the table. “I won’t have my judgment questioned by a slip of a girl barely past her majority.”
“Then how about a Pathfinder with fifteen years’ experience who told you that heading to the Lowlands at this time without proper preparation and without a guide was too dangerous.”
Slip of a girl, her ass. Shea was twenty five and had been guiding folks since she was ten years old and could finally keep up with the adults.
“You were on assignment,” a thin man with stringy hair and a beak nose on the other side of the table complained. “We didn’t know when you would be back, and the opportunity was too good to pass up. This wouldn’t have happened if we had more than one pathfinder.”
Shea’s shoulders tightened and her back became even more rigid. “You’ve been told in the past that pathfinders are rare and in high demand. Your village is too small and too new to warrant more than one.”
“Too new? We’ve lived here for more than eighty years. More like we’re being punished,” one of the men muttered.
Shea took a deep breath and bit her tongue. She had to do that a lot while she was in Birdon Leaf. Sometimes she was amazed there wasn’t a hole in it.
The simplest explanation was that there just weren’t enough pathfinders to go round and none who wanted to destroy a promising career by coming to this backcountry village.
No. Shea was the one to receive that privilege.
“What village did they go to?”
If Shea was lucky they had chosen one of the more stable villages. Though just as dangerous as the rest, they usually had a reason before they went bat shit crazy.
“Edgecomb.”
She sucked in a breath. Well, then.
Edgecomb was crazier than most. They did not like outsiders and were very easy to insult.
“We had reports earlier,” another elder said gruffly. “Mist is rolling down from the eastern border. It’ll cover this place in less than two days. They’ll be cut off.”
Mist. Damn. That complicated things.
She’d had a feeling it was coming. It was one of the reasons she pushed the men so hard going up Garylow’s pass. They were overdue.
Pointing out just how foolish these people were would be a waste of breath and cover the same ground as previous arguments. Shea decided not to address the issue. But she wanted to. Boy, did she ever.
“I’ll need four men if we hope to recover them.”
“Can’t you do it by yourself?” a man sitting next to Zrakovi asked.
“No.”
“You’re a pathfinder. Isn’t that your job?”
The rest of the men spoke over each other to voice their agreement about how this was impossible.
Shea didn’t bother listening, instead tuning them out while she went over her packing list. She’d need at least five days rations for five people, best-case scenario. Her field pack was still packed, but she’d have to replenish some of the items used on her last journey. Hopefully, she had clean underwear and socks in her cottage. Hmm. When did she last do laundry? A week ago? Two? She could live in the same clothes if she had clean socks and undergarments.
“Are you even paying attention, girl?” Elder Zrakovi asked.
Shea brought her attention back to the matter at hand. “My contract stipulates that I may request help from the local population if I think it’s necessary.” She looked each man in the eye as she continued, “If your men are still alive, I will have to rescue them, and I can’t do that alone. You will give me four able-bodied men accustomed to trail work and able to keep up on the distances we will be required to travel.”
“We may not be able to spare that many men,” Zrakovi said. “The tali will be flowering in a few days and if the mist holds off long enough, we’ll need all the people we can get to bring in the yield.”
The tali was a flowering vine that grew all through the rocks and mountains near the village and was a primary staple of the village’s diet. Its stalk could be used in weaving and cloth production, while the fruit could be dried out or eaten raw. It was used in nearly every dish they made. It only flowered twice a year and during that time every man, woman, and child helped with the harvest.
“I’m not asking, elder. If you don’t give me the men I require, I won’t be going out after your son.”
Shea knew harvesting the tali fruit was important. Without it the villagers faced the possibility of starvation, but she wasn’t about to venture into the Lowlands by herself. It would be suicide. The elders had been warned of the dangers. If they couldn’t supply the men, they could accept the consequences of ignoring sound advice.
The five conferred among themselves while Shea waited. Finally, they sat back.
“I can’t give you four,” Zrakovi said.
Shea nodded and turned to go.
“I can’t give you four,” he reiterated, raising his voice. “But I can give you two. It’s all I can spare during the harvest.”
Shea waited a beat. To be safe she needed four, but she’d known from the start the elders wouldn’t spare the manpower. The contract’s wording said she could refuse since they hadn’t provided the necessary resources.
Doing so would mean death for the two men. If they weren’t already dead.
Despite what the villagers thought of her, she didn’t make her requests to make their lives difficult. James, the elder’s son, was one of the few who didn’t try to make her feel like a hindrance. He was a decent sort who had a smile for everybody. When she needed assistance on some of her more dangerous jaunts, he would sometimes volunteer.
She needed four, but she could make do with two.
“Tell them to be at the front gate at midday.”
Relief filled the chamber. A few looks were traded back and forth, and several men nodded.
“Good.” Zrakovi turned his back on Shea and took another drink. As she turned to go, he said, “I’ll be sending a missive requesting a new pathfinder be assigned to replace you in Birdon Leaf.”