by T. A. White
Eamon wasn’t in the first place she looked. She’d hoped to catch him where the majority of Fallon’s people were staying, but the sleeping area lay empty. She headed to the stables next but was told he wasn’t there either. One of the Trateri she ran into directed her to a training area between the outer most curtain wall and the inner one. She thanked him before she and Fiona headed that way.
“This place is much bigger than I expected,” Fiona said. “Almost as big as some of the Lowland cities. Less people, though.”
The sentiment was expected. Most people don’t expect to see city-sized settlements above the fault. Life was too harsh up here. With a few notable exceptions, they’d be right.
“I’m told we once filled this place, but our population has dwindled over the past few centuries,” Shea said as they walked along a low retaining wall.
The Keep grew much of its produce during the short summer months and had set up fields within the Keep’s outer wall. They weren’t as productive as Lowland fields, given the short growing season, but they would keep the inhabitants from starving.
They stepped onto a short veranda, a field spread out below them, the outer curtain wall behind it.
Fiona nudged Shea and pointed. “There’s Eamon.”
Shea nodded and followed as Fiona stepped onto the stairs that would lead them down.
“Oh, excuse me,” came a feminine voice a few steps down.
Fiona nodded her thanks as Lainey Halloran stepped aside. Lainey’s eyes rose to meet Shea’s, her face seeming to freeze.
Shea’s heart thudded as she continued down the stairs past her mother, not looking at her after that one glance.
The two were silent as they passed.
“Who was that?” Fiona murmured when Shea reached the bottom.
Shea didn’t look back. “No one important.”
Fiona glanced behind them again. “That was a pathfinder, right?”
“Yeah. Why? You’ve seen others.” Shea’s voice was brusque.
Fiona made a sound. “Just thought there might be more to it. Either way, your ‘no one important’ is still watching us.”
Shea couldn’t help the quick glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, her mother was staring down at them, her gaze unfathomable.
“Ignore her.” Shea took her own advice, turning back to her task and lengthening her stride.
Fiona didn’t say anything as she increased her pace to keep up with Shea, for which Shea was grateful.
Eamon was bent over something on the ground, four others surrounding him. As Shea approached, she could hear his calm voice explaining trail signs to a few Trateri. They were infantry—not scouts and wouldn’t have had the same training as Shea and Eamon.
It was something she admired about the Trateri, they seized every opportunity to learn and train. They never stopped. They were never content with good enough, every one of them striving to be better, to bring honor to their family and clan. It was a refreshing change from those she’d worked with in the past.
“Eamon, you got a minute?” Shea asked, when it seemed like he’d paused in his explanation.
He looked up from where he crouched, brown eyes welcoming and surrounded with thin lines, his skin tan from the sun. He rubbed a stick in his hand and nodded.
“That’s it for now.” He stood and turned to Shea as the warriors moved off.
Shea waited until Fiona was the only other person near, giving her a glance and raising an eyebrow as if to ask why she was still there.
Fiona gave her a crooked smile. “There’s more than one reason I joined you for breakfast. The general already assigned me to this mission. I’ll be in charge of the warriors, where your friend will lead the scouts.”
Shea fixed her with a long look, even as she knew the woman was being truthful. It made sense, and honestly, she should have expected this. While Fiona was friendly, they weren’t exactly friends. Shea thought they could be if given enough time.
“Fallon thinks there’s something out there. Something that’s got the pathfinders spooked,” Shea started.
“Fallon thinks?” Eamon asked, raising one eyebrow as an amused expression settled on his face.
Shea rolled her eyes. “We think there might be something out there. I need you to take a team and see what you can find.”
“You going with this team?” Eamon asked.
Shea frowned as she considered. She shook her head. “No, not this time. I need to keep an eye on things here. There are places I can go in the Keep that no Trateri can.”
Not too long ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated. The prospect of a mission would be too tempting to deny.
“How do we get past the mist?” Fiona asked.
“I’ll get you past, but you’ll have to do the rest yourselves,” Shea told the two. It would be better if she could go with them, or at least send another pathfinder with them, but there were none she trusted. “I have a few maps of the area you can work from. Plan for a two week stay. At the end of which, you’ll rendezvous with the unit we left behind on the other side of the mist. I’ll make sure they can get word to us if need be.”
“We’ll need a few extra men to escort you back through the mist,” Fiona said.
Shea was already shaking her head before she finished.
“Shea,” Eamon chided. “It’s better to have warriors with you. We already know there are monsters waiting in there.”
“No. The more people we take, the greater the chance of being discovered. I’ll be lighter and faster on my own. In and out before anyone or anything knows. You forget, I’ve been traveling its depths for over half my life,” Shea said.
She could see Fiona wanted to argue. Not Eamon, though. He’d been with her on more than one mission out there. He trusted that if she said she’d be better off on her own, she was right.
“We’ll leave at the moon’s height,” Shea said. “Keep this to only those who are going, and don’t discuss it in the Keep.”
“You think there are spies there?” Fiona asked.
“I know there are. The place is riddled with secret passages. You never know who might be listening,” Shea warned before taking her leave.
*
Back in the keep, Wilhelm fell into step with her before she’d taken more than a few steps inside.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m a little surprised you waited until now to show up.”
He gave her a soft smile, his eyes sleepy and amused. “The commander could handle anything that might happen in these walls.”
Shea felt herself pause. He must mean Fiona. His words were high praise and she mentally upgraded Fiona’s abilities. It was rare for her Anateri to give credit to anyone not in their ranks. That he did so said something.
“We thought it best if you weren’t constantly surrounded by one of us,” he continued.
Shea made a sound of agreement. He was probably right. It would send the wrong message to the pathfinders if she was always surrounded by Fallon’s men. In typical sneaky fashion, they’d still managed to make sure she was protected. Got to admire that.
“I hope you enjoyed your morning off,” Shea said in a sardonic voice. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
He glanced at her, his expression expectant. “Where are we off to first?”
“We’re going to go see a teacher about a primer,” she said.
His forehead wrinkled, but he didn’t ask questions as she pointed them to the part of the Keep where the children had their lessons.
The pathfinders—like many of the Highland villages—were a self-insulated society, and like all societies, people tended to couple up and produce the next generation. The pathfinders might have a more rigid structure based loosely on a military unit, but that didn’t mean they weren’t human.
Children were considered a blessing here, and as long as their parent’s relationships didn’t cause an unacceptable disturbance in the Keep’s missio
n, they were accepted.
For that reason, a nursery had been set aside and the children of the Keep were given the best of instruction, better than anything they would get in the outside world.
The door to the children’s nursery was always open. Housed on an upper level of the Keep, it was a large room filled with toys and games to keep active children entertained all day.
Shea stepped inside, her eyes instantly drawn to the children of various age ranges, everything from a toddler to ten years old. At that age, they tended to apprentice to a master pathfinder and their days in the nursery became very short.
A tall, thin man glanced up from where he was reading to a tow-headed child who had a mischievous grin. For a moment, Shea couldn’t help but wonder how Mist would fit in among these children. The lostling she’d quasi-adopted had a thirst for knowledge equal to any child here.
With a sigh, she put such thoughts out of her mind. They were a long way from anything like that, if they ever got to such a point. Right now, they didn’t even have a firm alliance.
The man stood, his long face wreathed in a smile as he walked over, a slight limp hindering his progress.
“Allyn, it’s good to see you again,” Shea said with a heartfelt smile.
“To what do we owe this honor?” he asked, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his smock. He wore pants and a shirt like most pathfinders but over it he’d donned an oversized apron equipped with many pockets. Shea knew from past experience he tended to lose things in those pockets, everything from toys, to plant cuttings he’d decided to study in more depth.
Half-scholar, half-caretaker for the children, his limp prevented him from the life of journeying most pathfinders enjoyed. The disability hadn’t stopped him from making a place among them. He’d been part of the nursery since shortly before Shea left it.
She’d always liked him. He had a gentle soul and was one of the few who never seemed to judge others, no matter how badly they screwed up.
“I was hoping for a few primers. Particularly those that mention the mythologicals,” she said, her smile hopeful.
His gaze turned to Wilhelm at her side and he blinked. “We have a few lying around, though I’m not sure how much information they’ll give you on the mythologicals. Just a few stray stories we never weeded out.” His gaze turned cautious. “What do you need them for?”
She gave a shrug. “Same thing you do. To teach people about the dangers of the Highlands.”
He gave her a slightly censorious glance as her smile turned bashful. “My mother has asked for an alliance. They deserve to know what they’re up against. What harm could a few primers do?”
He sighed, flicking another glance at her companion before looking away again, his cheeks slightly red. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Shea gave him a relieved look. “Allyn, I can’t thank you enough.”
He flapped a hand at her. “None of that now.”
She settled back and gave him a worried look. One hurdle cleared. Another one to go. “I don’t suppose you know where we can pick up a few maps of the surrounding area?”
His eyes bugged out and he shook his head. “Shea, no.”
“Not the pathfinder maps,” Shea rushed to say. “Just one of the basic ones. The type we give to the children to get them used to reading maps.”
When she said basic, she meant basic. The maps were filled with only the most general of landmarks, nothing that could be used against her people. She’d prefer something a bit more detailed, but the chances of her getting her hands on those were almost nonexistent.
“It would be very much appreciated,” Wilhelm said, his handsome face expectant as he gave Allyn a blinding smile. Even Shea was slightly affected by his beauty and blinked. Her normally quiet guard had suddenly turned into a bright beacon.
Allyn sighed. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Your mother put Whelan in charge of those and the rest of the maps shortly before you arrived. I can get you the primers, but if you want the maps, you’ll have to go through him.”
“Not that old man,” Shea said.
“Yup,” Allyn said with a wry smile.
“He hates me,” she said, frustration lacing her voice.
Allyn squinted and lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Hate is a strong word. Whatever it is, he feels the same about most people.”
Shea’s shoulders drooped. Great, looked like she’d have to beard the beast in his lair.
“Come back once you’ve spoken to him. That should give me enough time to get everything ready,” Allyn said.
*
Leaving the nursery behind, Shea turned toward the south tower. It wasn’t far but would mean descending several floors while hoping not to meet any pathfinders who might guess what they were up to.
In the Keep, navigation was centered around the towers. It was a bit like a maze on the inside, so if someone asked you where you needed to go, you’d tell them the closest tower and they’d direct you from there. It was easy to get lost and turned around, but you could always orient yourself by looking out a window and seeing the tower closest to you.
Whelan’s lair was below ground level in what Shea used to refer to as the dungeon. It had been many, many years since it’d been used for such a purpose, but the name still stuck. Why he’d decided to stay somewhere the sun couldn’t shine was beyond her. It was dank and cold and always made the skin on the back of her neck crawl.
“Is this person an outsider among your people?” Wilhelm asked, looking around the dim corridor. He hadn’t liked descending the last staircase but had followed her against his better judgment.
“Not exactly,” Shea said as she knocked softly on the door, waiting until a voice called for her to enter.
She cracked the door open and then paused, turning to give Wilhelm a hard stare.
“Wait here,” she told him.
“Shea,” he protested.
“I’ll be fine. This man will not hurt me.”
“Not like I could even if I wanted to,” a crotchety old man snarled from within the chamber.
There was a shuffle of feet and then the door was yanked open, nearly bringing Shea with it. She let go before she could be pulled off her feet, turning to find a man who resembled a giant bird. A set of bifocals perched on his face, making his eyes seem much larger than they actually were. Tufts of hair stuck up all over his head as Whelan frowned.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said in a dour voice.
“Who were you expecting?” Shea asked.
“Not you.”
“Bullshit,” she scoffed. “You knew my voice as soon as you heard it.”
He huffed. “I’d hoped I was mistaken.”
She rolled her eyes, letting him know how much she believed that. Which was to say not at all.
“You going to let me in?” she asked.
He got a very vexed look on his face as he shuffled back, his old bones making his movements slow and laborious. “I already did that. You’re the one that had to dither in the doorway like one of those annoying students they keep sending my way.”
He ambled over to a desk covered in paper and fat rolls of parchment.
“Might as well invite your friend in. Goodness knows we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you under my care. Your warlord might slaughter us in our sleep,” Whelan said as Shea stepped inside and prepared to shut door.
She let out a heavy sigh. Now that he’d invited Wilhelm in, it was pointless telling the man to stay out. Whelan would just gripe about it the entire time, and it would lead to an argument later. Better to give in now so she could put her foot down when it actually counted.
Shea waited until the door was closed to pace around the chamber.
“No one is watching or listening. Not down here,” Whelan said, not looking up from the paper in front of him.
She paused and gave him a suspicious look.
He gave her a put out one
in return. “It’s the dungeon, girl. There aren’t any peepholes down here. You can speak freely without worrying about being overheard.”
Shea studied him. “There are spy holes everywhere.”
He gave her a humorless smile. “Not down here. Why do you think I chose this place? To keep your mother and her enemies’ spies out of my hair.”
It could be true. It would certainly explain why he’d never taken a spot above, despite her mother offering it to him many times.
Whelan was one of the oldest and canniest pathfinders she knew. If he said it was safe to speak freely, chances were he was right.
“What do you want?” he asked impatiently.
Shea was quiet before she took out a notebook. “I need maps and information.”
He laughed, the sound dry and reedy, his eyes sharp and intelligent in that old face. Age hadn’t dimmed his intellect one bit. His body might be failing, but his mind was still as vibrant as it’d been when Shea was young.
“You always were a bold one,” he said.
Shea studied him. Once upon a time, he’d been her first mentor. He’d been in charge of the children, those too young to decide whether they wanted to follow in their parents’ footsteps. It had been a task that shouldn’t have sat well on his knobby shoulders. He was entirely too short with others, especially those he considered too stupid to live.
Somehow, he’d ended up being Shea’s favorite teacher. Always willing to feed her eager mind with more information, even when he had to whap her upside the head because she’d done something ill-advised.
He was also probably one of the most perceptive people in the Keep and a valuable source of information if he so chose.
It was getting him to agree to share, that was the hard part. His loyalty to the pathfinders was undeniable, but she was hoping that he had some vestige of old sentiment towards her that would convince him to help.
He studied her. She remained still, knowing no amount of protestation or argument would convince him if he’d already set his mind against her.