Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,52
thing. It had realized a childhood dream of Shea’s from when she had wanted to be a gatherer, one of those pathfinders specifically dispatched to study the world and bring their observations home.
Clark fulfilled her dream in a different way than she’d imagined, but it had done more good for her little slice of the world than her former dream would have. If she’d ever achieved her original goal, her knowledge would have been hoarded and kept in the Wayfarer’s Keep, where it would sit in a library, unlikely to ever be read or shared.
“Shea, where’ve you been?”
Shea’s steps stuttered. Had she made a promise to visit him and forgotten about it in the excitement of Fallon’s return?
“I would have thought since we’re friends your first stop would have been here to share what you knew. Instead, I had to learn about this mist thing from the throwaways that were brought in with Fallon.”
There was so much to address in that statement that Shea looked around in confusion for a long moment.
“First, what throwaways? And since when were you on speaking terms with any of the Lowlanders?”
“Throwaway” was a term the Trateri had coined to describe Lowlanders taken in tithe because their people had thrown them away to ensure their own safety for a while longer. Unless a scout was on a mission that dovetailed with collecting a tithe, they didn’t have much to do with the throwaways, since scouts were considered too tactically sensitive to train their enemy in this position.
Clark got a shame-faced expression, as if it had just dawned on him that she might take umbrage with that term, having been a throwaway herself at one point. “I thought you knew. Some of the men Fallon brought back were former soldiers from the city states in the south.”
Shea hadn’t noticed any prisoners among the men escorting Fallon, but then the mist had been a bit distracting when she finally found them. Later, once they were out, Fallon had gathered the advance team and they’d ridden out. The throwaways must have been among those he left behind to follow at a slower pace.
“Still doesn’t explain how you got to talking with them,” Shea said, not wanting to dwell on a practice that made her uncomfortable.
Clark shrugged. “Some of the newcomers are being given to the Wind Division. Eamon wanted to debrief them in case they knew anything of value. I just happened to tag along.”
“And who is this?” Braden asked, finally interrupting the conversation. His solemn eyes were intense as they studied Clark.
Clark looked around at the people accompanying Shea, for the first time realizing she might not have been here to see him. His eyes goggled in recognition at the sight of Braden.
Clark’s mouth snapped shut and he sprung to attention, drawing himself up to his greatest height. Thankfully, he managed not to salute, though Shea could tell it was a struggle for him. “Clark of the Southern Plains, scout of the Dawn’s Riders, Wind Division.”
“You’re an orphan then.”
Shea’s mouth dropped open and her head spun as she aimed a glare Braden’s way. How did he even guess that from what Clark offered? And what kind of person said that on a first meeting?
“Orphans are named for the closest landmark. On occasion the clan is kind and lets them claim the clan’s name as their own,” Daere said softly at Shea’s side.
Clark’s face was stiff and guarded as he gave a wary nod.
“You are the one responsible for this board I hear so much about?”
His nod this time was less hesitant.
“Show me.”
*
The beast class had assembled in a small clearing right next to the horses’ paddock. Wooden seats made of stumps and logs had been set up facing in one direction. Charles, a slight man in loose clothing, stood in front of the gathered warriors talking animatedly.
Shea was surprised to see how many had gathered. Instead of the small group she had imagined, every seat was taken, and still others leaned against trees or stood in the back. Those with seats took notes as Charles gestured to a board that had been set up next to him. Several men nodded at what he was sharing, their expressions focused and intent.
Clark said, “I’ll ask some of the men to move so you can sit.”
“No, we’ll watch from back here,” Braden said.
Shea agreed. They’d learn more if they remained unnoticed.
“How long has this been going on?” Shea asked in a quiet voice.