Youngest at the table by a few decades, Shea’s presence would normally not be required nor appreciated among the elders of the Trateri clans. Her status as the Telroi, beloved of Fallon Hawkvale, warlord of the Trateri and conqueror of the Lowlands, had afforded her certain responsibilities—uncomfortable and outside her normal skill set though they might be.
Daere, a woman several years older than Shea though still much younger than the rest, leaned forward from where she sat behind Shea. Since she wasn’t a clan elder, she didn’t have a seat at the table and was forced into the role of observer. In a low voice, one only meant for Shea’s ears, she said, “They’re discussing where to house the new clans that have joined us.”
Shea gave a slight nod, her face creased in a thoughtful frown. Or at least she hoped it was thoughtful. This was the third such meeting she’d been forced to attend, and she felt no more comfortable than she had at the first one.
Unfortunately, she’d also been unable to convince Daere of the uselessness of her presence. Daere was Fallon’s cousin on his father’s side and had been assigned to be Shea’s shadow. Well, technically she’d been assigned to mentor and guide Shea in her new role in Trateri society.
The woman saw Shea’s lack of social graces as a personal affront and had set about trying to integrate Shea into their way of life. She’d started with these meetings, and Shea was already trying to think of several ways to avoid Daere for the foreseeable future. It was difficult, since the woman evidently had eyes in the back of her head.
Daere was a tall woman, even taller than Shea who towered over most Lowlanders. Since the Trateri people as a whole grew tall and muscular, this wasn’t unusual. Her reddish-brown hair was tied back from her face, setting off her sharp features and giving her no-nonsense glare an extra push as she aimed it Shea’s way, telling her without words to pay attention.
Shea turned back to the assembled elders. Though mostly women, there were a few men scattered into the mix. Shea heaved an internal sigh. She missed the days when she was a pathfinder and scout, one who wasn’t expected to comment on anything but the possible obstacles on her chosen routes.
“You want my opinion,” Shea stated, hoping someone would volunteer some information on the particulars of what had been discussed. A few stared at her with expectant expressions. Others verged closer to outright hostility at having to listen to a stranger, someone who wasn’t even Trateri.
Gala eyed her with a vexed expression and pointed at a spot on the map. “As we’ve discussed, we’d like to add the additions to this side of the camp.”
“I still say that’s a mistake. The Ember clan and the Rain clan both have blood feuds with the Earth clan,” Calvin said, his mouth turned down into a sour frown.
Shea looked at the map, grabbing one side and sliding it closer to her. She ignored the slight huff from the woman from the Lion clan—a woman whose name she had forgotten. Again.
Hm. Camp was a little cramped already. The Forest of the Giants lived up to its name. The giant soul trees that were the size of mini mountains made finding adequate space for Fallon’s army difficult. With roots the size of houses poking up out of the ground, it was a challenge keeping the camp from breaking into several scattered settlements. It was too easy for any isolated sections to be attacked by beast or man.
It had forced the Trateri to adapt. They’d packed the smaller tents so tightly together that they were nearly on top of each other while the larger tents the Trateri were known for were left packed away. The tight quarters had left many feeling irate.
“That’s right under the Airabel village,” Shea observed. The village was built among the treetops of the giant soul trees—trees so tall and wide that it was said only giants could tend them. The Lowlanders who made this place their home rarely ventured to the ground, and then only if it was in a hunting party. They’d been more than happy to let the Trateri set up their encampment below.
“We’re aware of that,” Sharri, an elder from the Earth clan, said.
“Then you don’t care if the Ember clan and the Rain clan wake up with human waste decorating their tents,” Shea said with a neutral expression.
Twelve sets of eyes looked at each other before aiming Shea’s way. She greeted them with a pleasant expression.
“What do you mean?” Gala asked.
Shea slid the map back to the center of the table and began to lean back before catching herself at the last minute, remembering just in time that she wasn’t in a chair. Her thighs screamed in protest.
“The Airabel have no way to build latrine pits since their homes are built into the branches of the great soul trees.”
Their expressions said they had never considered how the Airabel handled waste. Shea wasn’t surprised. The Trateri had never seen a sky village built into the canopy of a tree so tall it was difficult seeing the crown of it when you were standing right next to it on the ground. They had probably never even thought of the logistics of life up there. Unlike Shea, who’d spent many visits living and learning about the Airabel during her time as a pathfinder. Then, she’d lived in one of the tree top homes, instead of camping out on the forest floor as the Trateri did.
Shea sighed. They still weren’t getting it. “They use chamber pots that they empty over the side of the village every morning. Anything below gets a nice coating of whatever they ate the previous day.”
It was why the land below the village was so lush. Flowers and other vegetation had taken advantage of the nutrient rich soil derived from generations of fertilizer.
“They can’t go there,” Calvin said, staring at the map. “We’d never hear the end of it.”
“I say put them there,” an elder whose name Shea hadn’t bothered to learn said. “They deserve what they get for waiting so long to join us. They should have been here months ago, instead of waiting to see if the Hawkvale’s plans would succeed.”
There was a murmur of agreement around the table.
Shea didn’t know the particulars of the situation or why the two clans were just joining the other five now. She did know that putting them there was a disaster in the making. If nothing else, it would lead to additional meetings such as this as the newcomers aired their grievances. Shea would like to avoid that.
“What about here?” Shea asked, pointing to a corner of the map.
Gala and the rest leaned closer, frowning thoughtfully at the spot Shea indicated.
“That’s the horse pasture,” Calvin said.
“That we don’t use,” Shea said. “There are too many dangerous plants that could kill the horses. The horse master said he planned to move them further afield where there was less danger.”
“So, you’re saying the horses are more important than Ember or Rain.”
Shea fought down a sense of frustration. That wasn’t what she’d said at all.
“Not at all. Merely that they have the tools to make this spot safe for their people whereas the horses do not.”
One elder harrumphed. “I say the horses are more important than either of those clans.”
“They could see it as an insult on our part,” another cautioned.