The stranger snorted, a sound filled with skepticism. “This is all you have? If you walked out of the mist when you were six and twelve, it doesn’t sound too dangerous. Why should we believe you?”
Shea shrugged, the gesture careless. “Believe what you like. It’s your life to live as you choose. Its loss makes no difference to me. I think, though, you know on some level that the mist is dangerous. Why else would you be here? Why else would any of you be here?”
“Easy words for a throwaway to say. You’re not the one who is going to be out there. For all we know everything you just said will get us killed.”
Shea gave him a long look filled with disdain. Guess she should have expected that as his next volley.
Before she could reply, Daere’s voice was a whip through the air. “Watch how you speak to the Hawkvale’s Telroi.”
Her words had an immediate effect on those who didn’t already know. The strangers and a few of Wind Division studied her with new eyes, assessing, cataloging, and trying to decide what about this throwaway had so drawn their warlord. Shea fought not to react, though she’d always loathed being the center of attention in matters not related to pathfinding.
She knew what they’d see, a woman with unruly hair just brushing her shoulders. One who was of average height and average looks. Sometimes she questioned what he saw in her too. She wasn’t politically powerful, and since she’d burned the maps that showed the secret paths to the Highlands—she didn’t have leverage with him that way. She’d be the first to admit she had a bit of a temper, and she wasn’t the nicest of individuals on occasion.
Daere’s words seemed to work, acting like a blast of cold water. However, Shea was pretty sure by the way the stranger was eyeing her that she hadn’t managed to sway him much. She gave a mental shrug. He’d believe her, or he wouldn’t. She’d tried. She’d even taken Eamon’s advice and tried to explain rather than just tell. What he did with that information was now on him. She just hoped he didn’t get others killed through his own hardheadedness.
A few of the others seemed to take her words to heart, dutifully inscribing them in the notebooks she knew Clark had passed out to any scout who would take them. At least someone would get something from this. It would have to be enough.
The crowd gradually dispersed. Charles walked over to them as the others left, some in groups as they compared notes, and others trickling off alone.
“Thanks, Shea. I don’t know what I would have done without you here,” he said, his gait stiff as he limped over to them. It was enough to ensure he was unable to become a soldier or join any other combat positions. He was smart, though. Smarter than most. His intellect should have guaranteed him a spot in the upper echelons, but his leg kept him back.
“Does that happen often?” Braden asked. If he thought less of Charles because of his physical ailment, he didn’t show it.
“The scouts and soldiers from Wind Division don’t usually challenge me like that. We’re having more problems when some from other divisions join in a class. Most are respectful, but a few feel the need to throw their weight around. Soldiers from Ember and Lion seem to be the worst.”
“Which clan and division was that man from?” Shea asked.
“Rain clan, Tempest division.”
Hm. That was good to know. She thought the patches on the men from the sleeper vine incident were similar to that of the stranger’s.
“That does not surprise me,” Trenton said. “Rain took a lot of the exiles from Snake Clan when Fallon disbanded it. Their clan leader was good friends with Indra. They seem to hate everyone who is not them. It doesn’t matter what clan or division you’re in.”
“You’ve got an interesting concept here,” Braden told Charles. “It could use a little work and fine tuning, but the idea is sound.”
Charles blinked at the general as if just realizing who he was. His mouth dropped open as surprise dawned on his face. “You’re General Braden Thorisdon. You’re responsible for the victory against the Oorumicon.”
“I did fight in that battle, but there were many who fought alongside me.” Braden’s words were humble, sparking Shea’s curiosity.
Who were the Oorumicon? Were they another enemy of the Trateri that she didn’t know about? Had they been conquered and assimilated into Fallon’s clans? There was so much to learn about the Trateri, their culture and history. It seemed never-ending.
“This is such an honor,” Charles said. “I have listened to the stories and songs about you and have followed your path up the ranks.”
Before Braden could respond, a woman with blond hair pulled back in a single braid and wearing a determined expression approached. She was trailed by a tall thin man with a long face and a pained expression. He was Trateri; Shea was willing to bet the woman wasn’t.
“Eva, don’t,” the man warned in a soft voice.
His words caused the other woman to hesitate before she shrugged them off and lifted her chin. Her eyes fastened on Shea’s. “I’m told you can help us.”
Trenton turned and looked at the woman, edging her away from Shea with a subtle movement. “And who might you be?” he asked with a flirtatious grin.
Eva stopped short, eyeing Trenton for a moment before dismissing him and looking past him to Shea. “We’re having problems in the pasture. We’ve lost three horses in the past week and two others were injured. We need help from somebody who knows this place.”
“You should direct your complaints to your clan,” Braden said.
The woman’s face turned frustrated, her petite features belying the force of personality behind her eyes. “We have. They’ve neglected to do anything meaningful, and meanwhile we stand to lose even more.” Her eyes turned to Charles, an accusation in them. “This is the second time I’ve come here for help and have been turned away.”
Charles blustered, “The beast class isn’t here to help a throwaway do their job. We have important business that takes priority.”
Eva snorted. “You would think you people would care for your horses a little better, instead of just leaving them to be picked off one by one.”
“Eva,” the other man cautioned again, his eyes flicking from Braden to Trenton to Wilhelm.
Eva’s mouth tightened, and her chin lifted, stubbornness written on every line of her body.
“Do you know what’s attacking the herd?” Shea asked.
Eva’s eyes turned to Shea, a cautious hope in them. Shea didn’t know how this woman came to be among the Trateri, but it was clear she felt passionate about her horses.
“I found tracks. They look like bandisox, but they’re about four times bigger and a lot meaner.”
Bandisox were a rat-like animal that had bands of black circular rings around its body and white feet. It had a rodent-like face and a tail. They were normally not a threat. While carnivorous, they were too small to bring down a human and were mostly scavengers.
“You should take this to Mountain division,” Charles complained. “The herd belongs to them.”