Pathfinder's Way (48 page)

“Oh?” Shea asked, arching one eyebrow. “It
should be easy. After all, if a gutless idiot can do it, you should
have no problems.”

Seeing that she wasn’t going to be able to
win against Shea, the woman changed tactics.

“I don’t have to stand for this. I am a clan
leader and what are you? Nothing. You’re filth. Even your own
people didn’t want you. They gave you to us as tribute.”

It was a good tactic. Shea had to give her
that. Its intention was to strike at a fact that should have been
gnawing at Shea all these months. But, Shea’s people hadn’t been
the ones to abandon her. Birdon Leaf might have orchestrated
everything to get rid of a pathfinder they found inferior, but Shea
didn’t consider those back country dirt grubbers
her
people.

The only ones Shea considered her own were
the pathfinders. She doubted they even knew she was missing. Their
organization didn’t keep close tabs on each other.

“Enough Indra,” Fallon ordered in a low
voice.

Indra’s mouth snapped shut her next retort.
Even Shea found what she had been about to say dying on her
tongue.

“This is my decision. I’ll consider any
further words against it a blood challenge.”

Faced with that ultimatum, Indra backed down
but not before sending an impotent glare at Shea.

“A moment, if you please, my Hawk,” Eamon
inserted while stepping into the clearing.

A small smile tugged at Fallon’s lips, and he
gave a short nod.

Eamon lifted his chin in acknowledgement
before a mask fell over his features, hardening them into a
merciless cold granite. Shea blinked. She’d never seen that
expression on Eamon before, not even when she’d pissed him off.

“The Western Wind scouts will no longer guide
any Snake Clan expeditions,” he informed the crowd.

“You can’t do that,” Indra shouted.

“I can and I have. Gutless idiots have to
stick together.”

“You don’t have the authority.”

“He does,” Henry inserted.

“My lord Hawkvale, promoted me to scout
master of the Western Wind division as a reward for my part in his
rescue.”

“He can’t do that.” Indra’s voice rose as she
turned to Fallon.

“He can. He did,” Fallon told her lazily.
“Perhaps you will be more careful in your insults next time.”

Indra’s hands clenched into fists at her
side. She swept away as her followers melted into the crowd as if
they had never been there.

The volume in the crowd rose as she
disappeared.

“Disperse.” Fallon’s voice cut through it
all, leaving no room for argument.

Faster than Shea had thought possible, the
normally stubborn Trateri scattered, leaving only Fallon, the old
man, Trenton, the Horse Clan’s leader and Shea standing in the
clearing.

The Horse Clan’s leader gave her a small nod
before continuing on his way.

Trenton grabbed her around the neck and
tugged her in his wake. “Come on, you. Let’s get you cleaned
up.”

“I thought there was another phase.”

Trenton grinned at her. “Don’t worry. You can
be clean for it. In fact, it’s kind of a requirement.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s the verdict?” Fallon asked.

Meynard’s bushy white eyebrows lowered over
his eyes thoughtfully. “She’s not much of a bodyguard.”

Fallon waited patiently, knowing it was
useless to rush Meynard when he was in a mood.

They already knew Fallon would never let her
place herself in danger in his stead.

“Her sword skills are shit. She’s got pretty
good endurance though.”

“Pretty good,” Caden snorted. “That’s an
understatement. He threw everything he could think of to get her to
cry mercy, and she just kept on coming. I’ve known hardened
warriors who have puked after the sessions he put her through, and
she acted like it was no big deal.”

Meynard smacked his lips in displeasure at
Caden’s interruption. With a shrug, he conceded the point.

“Would’ve liked to see what sort of training
got those sorts of results,” Meynard said. “Maybe I could use it to
light a fire under some of these lazy slugs you keep sending
me.”

Caden snorted again. Meynard said that about
every batch of young warriors he trained.

Fallon felt a thread of impatience at the
direction of the conversation.

“Will she pass?” he asked.

The other two got quiet.

“Well?” Fallon rumbled.

“Hard to say.” Caden spat on the ground.

“She’s got her endurance going for her, and
she has spirit,” Meynard added. “With the right kind of training,
she might have given Trenton a run for his money. And did you see
how she stood up to Indra? Not many willing to take that viper
on.”

“This is not what I want to hear,” Fallon
told them.

Meynard shrugged. “You know there’s no way to
tell. It’s up to the gods at this point.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Caden
asked carefully.

Fallon ran one large palm along the back of
his neck. “There’s no choice at this point. Too many people know
what she’s done. If I let it go unanswered, they’ll assume I’m weak
and challenge my authority. I can’t punish her in the traditional
manner without losing any trust and loyalty she might have after
the last few months. The Trateri’s venom is considered enough of a
punishment, while having the added benefit of making her a Trateri
in full.”

“You really think we hold any part of her
loyalty?”

“She could have disappeared at any point. Her
men say she saved them time after time. Something had to have kept
her here. Whatever it is, I intend to capitalize on it.”

Shea took her time in the bath, luxuriating
in the warmth, something she hadn’t done in ages. A sweet jasmine
scent wafted from the water, coating her skin and relaxing her
muscles.

Trenton had given her orders to wash well
before putting on the garments lain aside for her. Shea intended to
take her time in the water, feeling a near bliss as the heat
soothed her aches and pains.

The water had begun to cool before she
stirred, reaching for the soap to begin washing. She took her time
as for the first time in months there was no reason to rush. A man
wasn’t going to come charging in intending to take advantage of the
communal bath the Trateri set up at every stop. There was no
pressure to keep her gender hidden.

It was just her and the water.

Bliss. Definite bliss.

“I would never have guessed you’d be the type
to take a long bath,” an amused voice said beside her ear.

Shea squeaked and sank into the water until
only her shoulders and head were sticking out. She wrapped her arms
around her breasts and drew her knees up to her chest.

“It’s such a feminine trait.” Fallon drew
circles in the bathwater beside her knee.

Shea glared. Perhaps she should have been
worried about one person intruding.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

She refused to act like some virginal maiden.
She was a scout, one of the most coveted positions. She’d faced
down beasts that made others turn and run. This was nothing.

“I’m the Warlord. I can go anywhere I
want.”

He flicked water at her. She ducked and then
glared harder.

“My little tomboy has an ounce of softness in
her after all,” he murmured as he stood.

She sunk lower, feeling vulnerable in the
milky water.

Shea had never been particularly body shy. In
the wilderness, things happened. People saw each other’s naked bits
occasionally. You got used to it.

With Fallon, it was different.

“What do you want?”

Why wouldn’t he just leave?

“You know what I want.”

She rolled her eyes. For her to be his
Tolroi. Yeah, right.

“What do you want from me? Really?” Feeling
vulnerable and off balance by her nakedness, she attacked the only
way she could. Verbally. “We both know it’s not to be your Tolroi.
My face and body aren’t the type to engender such passion in
another. So tell me, what do you really want?”

The water sloshed against the sides of the
tub as she moved restlessly.

“How long have you been with us?” He brushed
a strand of hair from her face. The back of his fingers trailed
down her cheek, her neck and across one shoulder in a stray caress
that sent shivers racing down her back.

He smiled as the gentle ripples in the water
gave away her disquiet. It was a conqueror’s smile, full of dark
thoughts and decadent intentions.

Shea was so in over her head.

“Roughly eight months?” His thumb rubbed
delicately against the rim of her ear. “I wonder how much you
learned in that time.”

He rested his chin on the arm draped across
the tub. Shea watched him, spellbound by the liquid warmth in his
whiskey colored eyes.

“Do you know how most Trateri chooses their
Telroi, the bearer of their children?”

Shea shrugged. She’d heard stories. That was
it. Some of them had seemed a little farfetched.

“Most pairings happen when one abducts the
other.”

Shea hid her skepticism. That was pretty much
another way to say kidnapping. There wasn’t a lot of places a
relationship could go from there.

“Yes,” he said to the clear doubt in her
face. “Our people have a long standing tradition of seeing a
potential partner and then claiming them whether they want to be
claimed or not.”

“Doesn’t seem like an ideal start to a life
together.”

“You forget that for the past four
generations our people were not united. They were scattered in
tribes, and every tribe regarded the others as enemies. Carrying
our potential mates off into the night was the only way to survive
as a people.” He tugged at a strand of hair. “It also added spice
to a couple’s beginning.”

Some spice.

“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re so all
fired up to have me as your Tolroi. If I recall, the first time you
tried to make off with me, I was coming off a three day journey
across country and had just mounted a rescue mission. I hardly
compared to the beauties in your own camp.”

Shea didn’t lie to herself. Her strengths lay
in her brain and her talent for navigation, not in how fair of face
she was. She was happy with that much and saw no need to aspire to
more. The fact that a warlord professed to want her was baffling
and set her instincts twanging. There was more.

“It’s true. Your beauty isn’t the type to
outshine the likes of Indra.”

Ha. Shea knew it.

“But there’s more to attraction than the
exterior packaging. The color of your eyes has been burned into my
brain since that man ripped away your hood in Edgecomb. The feel of
your body when I caught you on the wagon has tormented me in dreams
ever since. I never know what is going on behind those eyes of
yours.” He gave her a wicked smile and Shea’s breath caught at the
sight. “You are a constantly evolving puzzle. It drives me mad, and
for someone like me, who can guess an opponent’s move before they
even make it, that is more attractive than a fragile thing like
appearance could ever be. You ask why you. How could it be any but
you?”

Shea’s heart felt like it was going a mile a
minute. She felt like she was suspended and any movement would send
her plummeting to the ground.

For a warlord used to spending time killing
or practicing to kill, he could sure talk pretty. Even Dane didn’t
have as glib a tongue as this man.

Shea had to be careful, or he’d wrap her
around his finger before she even know what hit her.

“So it’s not because I’m one of the few who
can get you past the cliffs?”

Fallon didn’t move, the expression on his
face remained unchanged, and yet the room felt saturated with his
anger.

Shea held very still, somehow knowing that a
single movement could reap consequences she was in no way prepared
to deal with.

A quick movement and Fallon caught Shea
behind the neck, slowly forcing her up with him as he stood. Water
sluiced down her body as she rose.

The pulse at her neck beat wildly as his gaze
held her rapt attention.

“I will admit that is a significant benefit
to our union,” he told her, his voice a deadly whip in its quiet
intensity. “But you would have led me past the cliffs and the mist
whether I claimed you as my Tolroi or not. Those weapons you had in
Edgecomb are too important to walk away from. You forget, little
cat, I am the warlord. I don’t need pretty words to get what I want
from you.”

She grasped his wrist tightly for balance. He
wasn’t hurting her. His grip was firm on her neck but not
harsh.

He put his mouth against her ear and
whispered, “I suggest you enjoy your run while you can. In the end,
you will still be mine, and you
will
give me what I want.”
He drew back and smiled his dark smile at her. “I will certainly
enjoy the chase you lead me on.”

With that, he released her and was gone
before she had caught her balance.

She sank back into the water no longer
feeling the warmth.

She’d been pretty sure he wanted her to get
him past the mist and into the Highlands. To be truthful, she’d
been expecting that all along. The Lowlands were civilized to a
point. They didn’t have as many beasts, or they hadn’t before this
summer, so they weren’t as isolated as the Highlands. At the same
time, that isolation was the Highlands greatest advantage. The only
way to attack it was from the border near the Badlands and few
would brave that land long enough to launch an invasion. As a
result, the Highlands hadn’t been conquered or seen a significant
invasion in over a thousand years.

For the same reason, the Highlands kept the
secrets of a long dead civilization locked away in its stretches of
thinly populated land. Shea’s people held the key.