SHEA STOPPED in front of a canvas tent with a dark blue banner that had a stylized image of a bird with wings spread on it. The tent dwarfed the last quarters she’d visited the commander in. He was certainly coming up in the world.
A man ducked out of the tent and blinked rapidly at the sight of her before freezing. By the looks of the stack of rolled parchment under one arm, he was a mapmaker.
Shea waited. As one of the cartographers, he would recognize her. She’d been instrumental in having one of their own executed for treason. To be fair, the man had passed out hideously inaccurate maps and tried to lure Fallon to his death. Somehow, she wasn’t too torn up about his fate. For a scout, a map could mean the difference between life and death. Fuck with that and you get what you deserve.
The man gathered himself and offered a brusque nod and a low rumble of a greeting. Shea nodded back as he passed her.
Huh. That had been almost cordial. It made her want to chase the man down to ask him what was going on.
She had friends among the cartographers, but he wasn’t one of them. The rest tended to see her as a mild threat at best and an ogre intent on their destruction at worst. It had led to some tense discussions when she ran into a supporter of the former head cartographer.
She stepped inside to find the commander of the West Wind Division surrounded by a mound of paper as he stared down at his desk with a perplexed frown. Trenton followed her moments later.
“Eamon, you look like that paper is going to jump up and bite you on the nose,” Shea said with a grin.
It was a scene so at odds with the environment Shea normally associated him with. She was used to him as the scout master, the one fearlessly leading them into the great wilderness and possible death. The person who insisted they complete their mission even when sanity said they would be better served to give up and go home. Death by an avalanche of paper was not even in the realm of possibility for her old scout leader.
Eamon Walker lifted his head and aimed a grin her way. He was in his late thirties with brown eyes and a face chiseled with grooves. He liked to tell her that some of those grooves had her name on them. The sharp planes and valleys of his face made it easy for him to appear a stone-faced cynic. A fact he’d used to his benefit to intimidate idiotic commanders when he and Shea used to run missions together.
“Look who finally arrived. You were only supposed to be here several hours ago.” Despite the harsh words, the smile in his voice let her know he didn’t mean anything bad by it.
Shea gave him a careless shrug. “I got a little sidetracked.”
He aimed a look her way that said she wasn’t fooling anyone. “You mean you wanted to avoid her at all costs.”
Shea’s lips twitched at the corners.
“You know you can’t do that forever.”
Shea snorted. Who did he think he was talking to?
He grimaced and rephrased. “You know you shouldn’t do that forever. Running isn’t doing you any good, girl.”
Maybe not, but it delayed the inevitable and it made her feel like she had a tiny bit of control. Something she desperately needed without the release valve that scouting provided. Before, when her emotions threatened to boil over, she could disappear into the wilderness. By the time she came home, whatever had been bothering her would have disappeared, given up, or resolved itself with no effort or emotional distress on her part.
Her safety valve was gone, and for the first time in a long time she was forced to directly confront how truly ineffective she was at dealing with other people. She hated feeling that way, which was why she’d taken to dodging things she didn’t want to deal with.
“Well?” Eamon asked.
“Well, what?”
“What happened to cause your guard to glare at you in such a fashion and the warlord’s cousin to corner me and interrogate me regarding your whereabouts?”
“Daere was here?” Shea glanced around as if the woman might spring out at any moment.
Eamon inclined his head. “Don’t worry; she left a while ago.”
Shea breathed a sigh of relief.
“You know whatever she’s done, she’s only trying to help.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not the kind of help I need,” Shea said.
“Hmm.”
Shea narrowed her eyes at Eamon. That sounded like the opposite of agreement. She folded her arms and leaned back in the pillow chair, this one had a back, thankfully. She chose to ignore his comment for now.
Eamon worked in silence as she sifted through her thoughts. She glanced briefly at Trenton, wishing he’d step outside. She was a private person and having someone watch every interaction made her want to hold back even more than she did normally.
“I’m not Trateri. Trying to shape me in their image isn’t going to make everyone around me any more likely to accept me.” There, that sounded neutral enough.
“I seem to remember you taking our venom. Your very survival says you’re Trateri.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
There was quiet as Shea sorted through her thoughts, choosing and discarding words that didn’t quite convey what she wanted to say. It was difficult to explain to someone who had never questioned who they were or their place in the world.
“I’m not sure I can explain.”
“Try.”
Her smile came involuntarily. “There are degrees of acceptance. You were born Trateri. You grew up learning every social cue, breathing in the culture and molding yourself to fit. Even if I had twenty years to do the same, I wouldn’t fit here the way you do. For you, being Trateri is instinctual.”
His face was thoughtful as he considered her words. “I see your point.”
Shea released a breath. Eamon’s opinion meant a lot to her. He and the other scouts on their team had managed to become a quasi-family during their months together. Extreme danger had a way of deepening relationships at a quick pace.
“Have you considered that Fallon and Daere aren’t trying to mold you into a Trateri woman, but rather are trying to give you a set of tools that you’ll need to navigate our society?”
Shea sat back and studied him. “What makes you say that?”
Eamon peered at her with a pensive expression. He had the look of a man who was weighing his words and trying to decide how much truth he wanted to share. He set his papers aside and sat back.
Shea braced herself. The last time he had shared truths, he’d pointed out how her lack of people skills made her inefficient at scouting. It had been something she had always known but not necessarily wanted to face.
“What future do you see for your life?”
Hm, not the tack she thought he was going to take.
“What do you mean?”
“What’s your ultimate goal? Where do you see yourself years from now?”
She’d never really put much thought into the future, content with surviving the present.
“I’ve only ever seen myself as a scout.”
It was mostly the truth. She’d once wanted to be a gatherer, a rare type of pathfinder responsible for gathering and safe guarding knowledge from the time before the cataclysm, an event so catastrophic that much of what had gone before had been lost, leading to the current state of the Broken Lands. The gatherers recorded the history of the world for future generations. That dream had died after a mission in the Badlands had destroyed any hope of achieving that future.
Eamon’s expression said he knew she wasn’t telling the entire truth but was willing to let it go for now.
“That would be a shame,” he said instead. “There’s so much more to you than someone who acts as a glorified guide to those much stupider than yourself.”
“That’s not all a scout does,” Shea argued, outraged. “It takes hard work and extensive training.”
Eamon held up a hand, forestalling any further protest. “You’re right, but you’re capable of so much more. I see that. I’ve seen it since that first mission. Fallon sees it too. You’re wasted as a simple scout. I think you know that too. It’s why you had so much trouble keeping your thoughts locked down tight when you’re given an order.”
He did have a point there, loath as Shea was to admit it. Seeing someone she led make stupid decisions and not being able to call them on it was akin to feeling like her skin was being stripped away one piece at a time.
“All I’ve known is this life. I don’t know if I can do anything else.”
“Evolve, adapt, learn. It’s the only way to get through,” Eamon said. “A Trateri scout typically only stays in the life for a short time before moving on to other endeavors. This lifestyle is too stressful on the body to stay at indefinitely.”
He gave her a look that said ‘come on’. She had to give him that point. It was similar for the pathfinders in her former guild. Once they got to a certain age, they started transitioning into other roles. They became trainers or rotated to one of the easier assignments, some took on roles in leadership and the governance of Wayfarer’s Keep.
Eamon spread his hands to encompass the tent around him. “Look at me. I loved scouting just as much as you did. Now I’m the commander of the Western Wind division. Things change; learn to change with them or life will right stampede over you.”
Shea studied Eamon and then she looked around the spacious tent. It was sparse compared to Fallon’s tent, which was decorated with the spoils of war and items made from the best Trateri craftsmen. Eamon’s quarters were considered sparse even by other commanders’ spaces. That was probably because Eamon hadn’t taken the time to outfit his tent with what his station now required. As a scout, he wouldn’t have had much, and it would take time to accumulate furnishings and luxuries.
Still, Eamon seemed to be doing well. More surprisingly, he seemed to be enjoying the challenge of the position. Something Shea would have sworn was impossible before seeing him in action.
He was like her. Happiest on the trail doing what he loved.
“You still get to go out. Leave all this behind on occasion and enjoy what’s waiting beyond the camp’s perimeter,” Shea pointed out, not willing to concede.
“Not as much as I would like.”
“How do you do it?” Shea asked, curious. “How do you stay when you want to be in the thick of things?”
His forehead wrinkled as he considered her questions. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it sometimes—the adventure, the surprises lurking in the shadows, but I’ve found happiness doing this. I suppose it’s because there are challenges to be faced and overcome here. I might miss the trail sometimes, but not all the time. Not even most of the time.”
Shea was quiet for a long moment. Eamon, used to her long silences, went back to his papers.
“You think I should give Daere a chance,” Shea stated.
Eamon lifted his head. “I think you should see what she has to offer before you make any decisions. No running and no avoiding.”
Hm.
That would take some effort. Shea didn’t know if she was up to that or if she even wanted to try.
“What are you working on?” Shea asked, shifting the topic.
Eamon gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was trying to do. That avoiding the conversation would work for now but it wouldn’t work forever. He played along anyway.
“I’m studying a route for tomorrow. I wanted to make sure I familiarized myself with the map before we headed out.”
“Oh?” Eamon was leaving camp? After just spending the last few minutes lecturing her on branching out? “Where are you heading?” She feigned mild interest when what she really wanted to ask was if she could come with him.
Eamon didn’t look fooled. “Fallon’s due back soon. I wanted to take a group out tomorrow and meet him a few days out so we can ride back with him.”
Shea straightened in her seat. “And you didn’t bother to tell me this sooner?”
He shrugged. “I’d planned to tell you this afternoon when you were supposed to be here, but someone decided to go jaunting about camp without a care in the world.”
Shea’s mouth snapped closed on her retort. She narrowed her eyes at him. He looked entirely too satisfied with himself.
“I’m going with you.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She fought against a wince, knowing Eamon didn’t like being ordered. It would have been better to phrase that as a question.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Please.” There, that was a little better.
His smile was slow in coming. “Fine.” Trenton shifted in his corner. Eamon’s eyes lingered on him. “But you’re bringing your guards.”
“Of course, I am,” Shea agreed immediately. “The best there is.”
“I don’t mean me either. My men and I don’t count.”
“What? Come on. I know you’re taking at least a dozen men. That should be more than enough.”
“Nope.” He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head. “I’m not the one who’s going to explain to the Warlord why his Telroi is wandering around without the protection of his Anateri.”
The Anateri were Fallon’s personal guard, handpicked by him and trained by a sadistic old man. They were deadly and fiercely loyal to Fallon and by extension Shea. Most didn’t make it through training, but for those that did, it brought honor to their families and clan.
Once upon a time, before her gender was discovered, Fallon had intended to have Shea join their ranks. She’d gotten a small taste of their training and could attest to its difficulties.
Trenton had been merciless trying to teach her the finer points of sword work. She rubbed one thigh in remembered pain.
“I don’t suppose I could get you to change your mind?” Shea asked. She aimed a sour look Trenton’s way, knowing that even if she did the nosy man regarding her with a placid expression would make it his business to ensure she didn’t step foot out of camp without a full complement of guards.
Eamon knew it too and shook his head. He didn’t even have the courtesy to look regretful.
She huffed at him. “I’ll remember this.”
“You do that. As long as the warlord remembers it too.”
She made a rude gesture at him.
“Hello, hello,” a voice called from the entrance of the tent. Seconds later a man popped his head through the door way. Seeing the two of them, he stepped in.
Blond, with a sly look in his eyes that said he got into more than his fair share of trouble, the man crossed the tent towards them. He had a broad forehead, an angled jaw, and moved with a dynamic energy.
“Look who it is. Our prodigal daughter come to visit the small folk.”
“Buck.” Shea greeted him with a smile as he clasped her on the shoulder. Buck’s real name was Gerard, but only his superiors and boring people—his own words—called him that. “Where’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know, about. Old slave driver there had me and my team scouting the forest to the east.”
Shea fought the wistfulness she felt at his words. She was happy for him. She was. It was a big deal to be given your own squad, and she knew how hard he’d worked for it. He deserved it, but she couldn’t help feeling left behind.
“Find anything interesting?” she asked.
Buck took a seat on a pillow next to her before setting a pair of maps down on Eamon’s desk.
“As a matter of fact, I did. A herd of giant elk nearly trampled my team. We would have been goners if we hadn’t found a nice boulder to wait out the stampede on. Craziest thing I ever saw. They came out of nowhere, and I didn’t see any predators driving them.”
“Where was this?” Eamon asked.
Buck leaning forward and gestured to the map. “A few days east of this stream. We didn’t see any sign of humans up that way, but with how thick this forest is and how good these people are at hiding, that’s not saying much.”
Shea leaned forward to look at the map. It was a strange story, but then strange things tended to happen in these lands. Until they had more information, it was considered peculiar but that was about it.
“I’ll make a note of it in my reports.” Eamon looked up at Buck. “There’s been several sightings recently that are out of the ordinary. I’ll have the men keep an eye out for similar occurrences.”
Buck snorted. “Since when aren’t there odd things about in this land?”
Eamon’s expression said he half agreed.
Buck seemed willing to let that be the end of it. He leaned back and smiled at the two of them. “It’s like old times. If we were on the trail, it would be exactly like them.”
“We’re heading out with a small group tomorrow if you’d like to join,” Eamon volunteered.
Shea blinked, not expecting the invitation. Normally, Eamon kept things closer to the vest. It made her wonder if he missed their old team.
“What? Both of you?” Buck asked, looking between them.
Eamon and Shea nodded.
“I’m in. This’ll be exactly like old times. Let’s just hope Shea doesn’t have to jump onto the backs of any shadow beetles.”
“That was one time,” Shea protested. “And it saved your worthless hides.”
Buck snickered. “I’ll never forget the sight of you free falling through the air. I was sure you were going to bounce off and get stepped on.”
“That was a controlled fall. I knew what I was doing.” That last part might have been a bit of an exaggeration. To this day, she wasn’t sure how she survived that stunt. “Besides, Eamon is making us take the Anateri. They’re not going to let me do anything even remotely dangerous.”
Buck’s face brightened. For a moment he looked like a child about to meet his heroes. “They’re coming? Even better.”
“Maybe for you,” Shea muttered.
“How can you say that?” Buck asked. “They’re the elite of our elite. I don’t know anyone who has even come close to joining their ranks.” He paused. “Well, except for you—before Fallon discovered you were a woman.”
“Shea’s just chafing at the fact that there’s somebody who questions the more reckless decisions she makes before she has a chance to act on them.” Eamon gave her a censorious look, having counseled her on similar topics when he was her squad leader.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“You think they’ll give me a few pointers?” Buck asked.
“I thought you were happy as a scout.”
He shrugged. “I am, but if an invitation ever came to join their ranks, I wouldn’t pass it up. Besides, I’ve never seen better swordsmen. Getting tips from them might prolong my life out there.” He made a gesture meant to encompass the world outside.
Shea stood, preparing to take her leave. “You’d be better served spending your time studying the beast board. If it comes down to a fight against beasts, you’re more likely to lose no matter how skilled you are with a blade. Better to study and learn so you avoid danger in the first place.”
He blew a raspberry at her. “You’re no fun. There’s nothing to say I can’t do both. Right, Eamon?”
One side of Eamon’s mouth quirked up. “Don’t get me involved in this.”
Shea shook her head, chuckling, as she walked away.
“That means you’ll do it, right? You’ll put in a good word for me?” Buck yelled at her back.
She lifted a hand and waved. “You’ll owe me one.”
“Just put it on my tab.”