Wayfarer's Keep

by T. A. White

  The apparent mildness of her voice didn’t fool Shea.

  “Thought I might investigate some of my old haunts,” Shea said, after carefully studying her mother.

  Shea’s hands were tense where she clasped them behind her back.

  Her mother slid her a scathing look out of the side of her eye. “Your little antics have made my job infinitely harder. I could have done without the extra work.”

  Shea’s mouth quirked. “Good thing I’m no longer one of yours then.”

  Lainey’s sigh was long-suffering. “You’re my daughter. You will always be mine.”

  Shea looked out over the Keep, fighting to keep doubt off her face.

  “What? You think I’m lying?” her mother asked, tilting her head so she could see Shea’s face better. “My dear, I carried you in my body for nine months and then suffered through two days of labor. You’re mine. Even that stubborn, hardheadedness of yours. More importantly, I can tell when you’re lying.”

  Shea didn’t respond.

  “You get that from your father, you know,” Lainey said, her smile faint.

  Shea snorted. “I doubt it. You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

  Lainey watched her with enigmatic eyes, her face almost amused. “Fair enough.”

  They stood in silence for several moments.

  “You have a problem, mother,” Shea finally said. “Your people are no longer loyal.”

  “What do you mean?” Lainey asked, her voice idle.

  Shea leaned against the stone and propped her chin on her hand. “There was someone down there. A man. He seemed to be working with the ballyhoo.”

  “Did you see his face?” Lainey’s voice was sharp.

  Shea shook her head. “No, it was too dark and he wore a hood.”

  “Damn,” Lainey said, sounding vexed.

  Shea studied her mother. She’d taken the news a lot better than she’d thought she would. “You knew?” she said in sudden discovery.

  Lainey grunted. “I suspected.”

  “Does Father?”

  Lainey nodded. “Of course, he does. Your father is one of the most observant people I know. He’s known something was going on for a while now.”

  “We sent out scouts,” Shea said, coming to a sudden decision. She watched her mother carefully, paying attention to the smallest of expressions that flitted across her face. She’d never been particularly adept at reading her mother, but if she had to guess, she’d say she was worried about something. Made sense, if she was really losing control of the pathfinders.

  “What?” Lainey asked, surprise and something else on her face.

  “That’s why I was down there,” Shea said. “To get them out in a way that wouldn’t be seen.”

  Lainey’s head swung toward her, whatever emotion she’d felt before, wiped clean at Shea’s revelation.

  “You sent them out unprepared for what awaits them?” Lainey asked, her voice accusing.

  “Not unprepared. Not totally,” Shea said. “The Trateri are not like the people of the Highlands and Lowlands. They’re not going to sit behind stone walls waiting for the beast that will finally kill them. They’re the type to go looking for that beast and kill it before it can get them.”

  “You sound admiring,” her mother observed.

  Shea shrugged. “Maybe I am. A little. It’s nice to work with people who make their own luck and aren’t afraid of the consequences if they fail. The scout leader is smart. I’ve done missions with him before. He’s perfectly capable of handling anything they encounter,” Shea said, her words weary.

  “Not everything, not the mist,” her mother said.

  “You’d be surprised. They’re not ruled by fear. I have faith in them. They’ll find a way to survive.”

  Her mother’s mouth firmed, but she didn’t argue.

  Shea turned to her, leaning her hip against the rail and crossing her arms. “You don’t actually mean to ally with the Trateri, do you?”

  Lainey arched an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  Shea narrowed her eyes. Lainey seemed almost amused. Not the reaction of someone who needed all the allies she could get.

  “This isn’t a game. Father got Fallon here with certain promises. These are not the type of people you break faith with. The consequences would be deadly.” Whether her mother would heed her warning or not was up to her.

  “Relax, little bug. I have every intention of keeping my promises,” Lainey said lightly.

  Despite her doubts, Shea believed her.

  “But the council does not,” Lainey said, her words having the effect of a rock dropped into a still pond.

  Shea stiffened. That would not be good. For the pathfinders or the Trateri.

  “I’ve seen Whelan’s village listings and the rate at which they’re declining,” Shea revealed.

  Lainey sighed, the sound resigned. “He should not have showed you those.

  Shea arched an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He probably shouldn’t have, but she was glad he had. It gave her a more accurate picture of what they faced.

  “You’re facing a critical mass of loss. You suffer many more and there won’t be any recovering from it,” she said. “How can they not want an alliance? The Trateri have the numbers and experience to fight whatever this is.”

  The sound Lainey made was ugly. “Because they’re stubborn old fools unable to see the rot on their own noses.”

  Shea wouldn’t argue with that.

  On one hand the pathfinders were progressive, open to questioning the world around them and finding answers even if it took years of study. Because they had preserved some of the ancients’ knowledge, it meant they were less given to superstition, and devoted themselves to the compilation of learning, passing it down to other pathfinders through the ages. However, they were also bound by tradition and unwilling to make the necessary changes to survive. They also had an extreme distrust of anyone who had not passed their little tests.

  It was like this tower. The guildmaster stayed here because of a sentiment that was centuries old, one that didn’t hold much sense anymore, if it ever had.

  Two dichotomies with one beginning to win out, the more time passed.

  “So, the council doesn’t know about the alliance,” Shea said.

  “Oh, they know,” her mother responded. “They even agreed to it. They’re just planning to back out once they’ve gotten a better idea who the Trateri are and what makes them tick.”

  Shea straightened. “They can’t do that. Fallon will kill them all.”

  “He’ll try,” her mother agreed, her voice dour. Shea sensed she wanted to say ‘and I might let him.’

  Shea rubbed her forehead, a headache threatening. Her wrist let out a blaze of pain and she dropped her arm.

  It was just as she and Fallon had suspected. They really had no intention of fulfilling the promise of the boomers or helping him unite the Highlands.

  She couldn’t even say she was that surprised.

  Lainey tapped one finger against the stone, her face pensive as she stared at Shea. She seemed to come to some type of determination because she squared her shoulders and fixed Shea with an intent stare.

  “What if I told you we would welcome you back into our ranks, your past transgressions forgiven, you’d be bestowed with the rank of a master pathfinder and allowed to become a gatherer?” Lainey said, her voice casual.

  Shea went still. Her head turned toward her mother very slowly, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Emotion had closed off her throat.

  Lainey paused but when no response came, she continued, “It would be nice having you back. You always were one of the best, and as a gatherer, you could begin to do those things you always talked about.”

  “And I assume you want something in return for this generous opportunity,” Shea said in as neutral a voice as she could manage.

  Lainey inclined her head. “Of course.”<
br />
  Shea nodded and waited.

  “Your warlord seems to listen to you. You would just need to put that to good use,” Lainey suggested.

  “You mean betray him,” Shea stated flatly.

  Lainey didn’t confirm or deny as she watched Shea, her face unreadable and still.

  Shea shook her head before she huffed, bending her head as she bit down on the words she wanted to say. Her mother tended to shut people out when they got too emotional.

  The two stood beside each other, both lost in whatever thoughts consumed them.

  “I won’t do it,” Shea said. “Not for anything in this world, and certainly not anything you have in your power to offer.”

  Her eyes were filled with anger as she met her mother’s and it was all she could do to keep herself under control. There was never any question in her mind of betraying Fallon or the Trateri. It might have been better to play her mother’s game—whatever that might be—but Shea wouldn’t dishonor herself or the people she called hers in that manner.

  Her mother had always been the diplomat in the family, Shea and her father lacking the patience to play the game. Shea believed in acting in good faith. You treat me right; I treat you right. Pretending to be something you’re not to get what you want, fit her just as well as a beast skin would, which was to say not at all.

  “We’re very glad to hear you say that, daughter,” her father said from behind her.

  Lainey’s smile was humorless as Shea started, twisting to see Fallon and her father standing in the open door. Her father’s posture was relaxed as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, looking at the two of them with a fond expression.

  Fallon’s eyes blazed at Shea, an emotion in them as fierce as a raging wildfire and as deep as a mountain’s roots.

  “That makes this a lot easier on everyone,” her father continued when Shea didn’t respond.

  She watched both her parents with a suspicious gaze, noting the lack of concern in her mother’s posture at having essentially been caught red handed plotting against a warlord who could very easily throw her over the stone railing at her back.

  Realization skated through her. It was a test. This entire thing had been set up by her parents to gauge the depth of her loyalty to her warlord and his people.

  She clenched her jaw, frustration coursing through her. She should have known. This was exactly the sort of thing her mother was known for and that her father was only too happy to enable. Poke and prod a person until you exposed their raw insides, their secrets on display for everyone to see.

  Fallon joined her, one hand coming up to massage the tight muscles at the base of her neck. “Your father had some interesting things to share while you and your mother were talking.”

  Shea just bet he did.

  “Have we passed your little test?” Shea asked with a tone sharp enough to bite.

  “Very much so,” her mother agreed in that mild voice that made Shea want to snap.

  “So happy to be of service,” Shea said with an icy smile.

  Fallon’s hand gave a warning squeeze before dropping away. “They suspect dissension in their ranks. There’s a definite tie between it and the beasts’ movements.”

  “I’d say tonight more than confirms it,” Shea said, not particularly surprised.

  When her father gave her an interested look, she elaborated, “Someone knew exactly when to close the tunnel’s exit. They waited until I was right under it, knowing I’d be trapped by the ballyhoo. The only way to have known that, was to be working with our mystery man who appeared to have some control of the ballyhoo.”

  “I’m equally interested in finding out how they knew about those tunnels,” her mother said.

  “Aren’t they common knowledge among your people?” Fallon rumbled, his brows lowered.

  “Not those tunnels,” Shea said in a sour voice. “That’s why I chose them.”

  “Very few people know they exist,” Shea’s mother agreed as her father perched against the stone next to her. He pulled out a small whittling knife and began working the palm-sized piece of wood in his hand.

  “Shea only knows about them because of my work and the fact that she felt an incessant need to explore even as a little girl,” her mother said, a note of fondness infiltrating her voice.

  “And her friends,” her father said in a quiet murmur.

  Lainey nodded. “That’s right. They would have been her faithful companions.”

  “Who?” Fallon asked in an interested tone, his eyes shifting to Shea.

  She frowned in thought. “Reece, Ellie, and Griffin, are the three that come to mind.” Noticing the look on Fallon’s face, Shea said, “It’s not Reece.”

  His sigh was heavy and put out. “I’d have to agree with you there. He’s the only reason we knew where to look for you. Had he not insisted on being a pain in the ass, you would have just disappeared.”

  Shea frowned at him. “I wouldn’t go that far. Things hadn’t gotten that dire yet. I’d already dealt the ballyhoo a severe blow. You just sped things up a bit.”

  He gave her a sardonic look, both eyebrows climbing. “You forget the creature’s co-conspirator. He very well could have been waiting in case you got past the ballyhoo.”

  A good point, but one Shea wasn’t willing to concede.

  “Either way, it’s clear someone in our ranks is working with whoever is using the beast call to control the beasts,” Lainey said in an authoritative voice that still managed to be slightly chastising.

  “Agreed,” both Shea and Fallon said.

  Lainey nodded, the movement somber. Her gaze went to Fallon. “I cannot give you the Highlands because they’re not mine to give.”

  Fallon folded his arms across his chest, looking her mother over with dark eyes. “That’s fine. I never expected that of you. It’ll be enough if you provide pathfinders who can guide my men to every village.”

  She inclined her head. “That I can do. From there, it’s your responsibility to secure their loyalty one by one.”

  The smile that dawned on Fallon’s face was slightly cruel. “I’d have it no other way. My warriors are more than capable of the task.”

  “And in return you’ll work with us to protect the Highlands from what’s coming,” Lainey said.

  This time it was Fallon’s turn to incline his head in a magnanimous gesture. “I would not leave my telroi’s people to face this threat alone.”

  Lainey studied him for a long moment, her gaze intent and piercing, weighing the pros and cons of such a deal.

  In many ways, an alliance with Fallon would be a boon for everyone. He had the men and the will to do something to turn the rising tide, but he could also be the despotic dictator that he was portrayed as being in so much of the Lowlands.

  Shea knew he wasn’t. In every village he’d been to, he’d tried to instill some sort of order. Sometimes it was training the villagers to fight. Other times it might have consisted of forcing them to undo some of their crueler practices such as stripping women of any and all rights.

  He wasn’t perfect. Nor were his people, but at least they were trying.

  “Then you have a deal,” her mother said, sticking her hand out.

  Fallon stared at it in confusion.

  Shea explained, “Our people have kept some of the old customs. Such a gesture is something people used to do long ago to seal a deal. The dominant hand is meant to convey they are unarmed in a sign of trust.”

  Fallon’s eyes were thoughtful before he reached forward and clasped Lainey’s forearm. “I can kill just as easily with my left hand as my right.”

  Shea sighed, ignoring that statement before turning to her mother, her expression cautious. “And what about the council? Will they agree to this?”

  If they didn’t, Fallon could very well hold them all accountable. The Trateri took honor seriously, and one way they did that was by holding a person to their promises,
one way or another.

  Lainey’s expression turned grim. “You leave them to me. I’ve been dealing with those old fools for a long time.”

  Shea didn’t question it, leaving with Fallon while her mother and father remained on the balcony.

  “What did you and my father discuss?” Shea asked when they were alone.

  Fallon bent a happy look on her, a victorious curl to his lips. “He said he’d have the boomers delivered to us tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A young girl’s scream split the night air, pulling Daere from a sound sleep. She jerked upright in her bed, fighting through sheets that had somehow managed to tangle around her like a knot of snakes.

  Finally free, she stumbled to the corner of her tent, holding up a palm when two of Fallon’s Anateri burst into the room, swords held ready as they looked around with a fierce alertness.

  She shook her head in a wordless signal. They relaxed, minutely, but didn’t put away their blades.

  Daere was grateful she’d started sleeping in night clothes when Mist came to live with her, otherwise Fallon’s Anateri would have caught a significant glimpse of her bare golden skin since she preferred to sleep nude.

  She rushed to Mist’s bed, pulling the little girl into her arms and murmuring soothing nothings. The girl wrapped around her with the strength of one of those creatures Shea had pointed out in the trees high above them. Her arms coiled tight around Daere and she tucked her face into Daere’s neck, her body shivering as she sobbed for breath.

  “Hush, little one. You’re safe now,” Daere crooned, the smell of little girl wrapping around her and making that hole in her heart ache, just for a moment, before she firmly tucked the past back down. She then concentrated on giving the abused lostling the care and comfort she so desperately needed.

  A little girl that Shea had rescued from being carried off by one of the many beasts that plagued this world, Mist had been subsequently adopted by the telroi. She was a quiet child and had not spoken until after Shea had assumed responsibility for her, and then only rarely.

  The girl had gained some much-needed weight since she’d been placed into Daere’s care and her hair was clean, allowing it to softly curl against her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes were watery as she tucked her face against Daere’s neck.