Pathfinder's Way(12)

The idea of a trade route was a good one. Or it would be if both parties agreed to the terms.

Birdon Leaf would benefit from the wheat that Goodwin grew, while  Goodwin would gain access to the tali root and jixy oil the Highlanders  harvested from the cliffs near their village.

Tali root, which could be used as a food or textile, would help the town  expand its weaving capability to offer more luxury items to the  southern cities. Because the root only grew in the higher altitudes of  the Highlands, the town elders were rabid to get their hands on it. The  jixy oil would give the townspeople access to a more reliable fuel for  lanterns and other heating sources.

For the villagers of Birdon Leaf, the wheat and a few other goods would help keep them fed when the tali wasn't in season.

That was the idea anyway, but since their arrival the people of Goodwin had been argumentative and unwilling to compromise.

She didn't understand why she had to be present for these tedious  meetings. It wasn't like she had anything to add. She didn't set the  terms, and more importantly, this wasn't part of her duties.

Being outside the village perimeter enjoying the slight chill of spring  as the land began to ripen with life was preferable to sitting in this  tiny chamber filled with stuffy old men.

"We've already agreed on these terms," Dane reiterated. "You should know as you were the ones to propose them."

"Things have changed since our emissary visited your village," a man said crossly.

Shea thought his name started with an R. Robert? No, she didn't think that was it. Maybe Richard?

Clad in fine garments with intricate embroidery running along every hem,  he had slicked his black hair away from his clean shaven face, showing  his strong bone structure to its best advantage. When he'd shaken Shea's  hand, she'd been amazed at how smooth his skin was. Softer than a  child's, his hands had probably never seen a day of manual labor.

His two companions were attired similarly, though the man on his left  had applied some type of powder to his face to cover the age spots.  Nothing could hide that beak of a nose, though.

Life in the Lowlands must be easier. Highlanders just didn't have that  much time to invest in their appearance. Everyday clothes didn't have  the fine level of detail that every one of these men's garments  showcased. Shea had attended these meetings for the past ten days, and  every day each man had worn something different and equally fine.

She counted herself lucky when she had one nice outfit in her wardrobe.  Mostly, her clothes were made of serviceable leather or tali root. None  of it had embroidery or fancy cuts and weaves.

Shea was willing to bet these men had seen very little hardship in their lives.

Dane pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've been saying that for days  now. We've offered several alternatives, and you still can't make up  your minds. The terms are fair and benefit both of us."

"We disagree." The hawk nose man slapped his hands on the table.

"I don't care if you disagree. Perhaps one of the other villages will be more appreciative of the trade you scorn."

Shea perked up at that news. Perhaps the end to this whole tedious visit was in sight.

"Gentlemen, please," the white haired elder interrupted. "Let's not make  hasty decisions. Perhaps we should call it quits for the day and meet  again tomorrow when we've had a chance to rest and consider what has  been said."

No, not again. Tomorrow would lead to the next day and then the day after that. She couldn't take much more of this.

They were stalling. She knew it. They knew it.

All she wanted was for this to be over so she could gather her team and  head home. That or for Dane to release her from the tedious boredom of  having to listen to these men drone on and on about nothing important.

Dane's arms relaxed from across his chest, and he nodded once. Shea  drooped. Looked like they were going to be here at least another day.

The men murmured polite goodbyes as they stood. Dane and the rest of the group from Birdon Leaf filed out of the room.

Shea trailed behind absently listening as the other three discussed how  to spend the rest of the day now that discussions had been derailed.  Again.         

     



 

The door closed firmly. Shea glanced back at it. None of the elders had  joined them, which meant they had all remained behind. Perhaps to  discuss how they should handle negotiations tomorrow?

Shea would have thought it would be more beneficial to do that with all  parties concerned, but what did she know. She was a simple guide.

Lost in thought, she trailed further and further behind her group,  losing sight of the rest before she knew it. Oh well. She doubted they'd  notice she was missing.

Time to herself had become a luxury since reaching Goodwin, as Dane  thought it would be useful to have her sit in on the discussions. She  hadn't minded at first. Ten days later, she did.

Shea wandered in the opposite direction of her lodging, enjoying the  feel of the sun warming her face and the slight bite of a stray breeze.  It brought with it the fresh smell of damp and earth.

It would likely rain during the night. She could smell it in the air. It  didn't feel like it would be a heavy rain, just enough to soak the  ground.

Her feet whispered across the cobblestone streets as she found her way  to the market. Stopping at a stall, she bought a piece of fruit and  carried it with her as she headed to the well maintained decorative wall  framing the square.

Hopping up onto the waist high barrier, she settled onto the cool stone  and turned her attention to people-watching before biting into the  peach. She wiped her chin as a little bit of juice escaped and then  licked the small trickle of liquid off her wrist, savoring the rare  treat.

She hoped Dane was able to include fruit as one of the goods to be  traded. She'd come to enjoy the many varieties the Lowlands offered. It  was one of the things she'd miss when they finally headed home.

This town was three times the size of Birdon Leaf in both population and  the number of buildings. Like Birdon Leaf, it had a large outer wall  that encased the main town, though many farms fell in the outlying  territory. It was primarily a farming village, but it also performed a  robust trade with other Lowland settlements.

That's why the trade proposal had been met with such excitement.

Most of the buildings were made of stone and a clay-like plaster that  dried to a creamy white. All the roofs had the grey tint of slate, while  the streets were smooth cobblestone the likes of which had never graced  a Highland village.

The town proper was surrounded by massive stone walls. Spreading out  from the stone center, acre upon acre of farmland stretched until  finally giving way to a dense crop of trees.

Every spring the region funneled the spring melt, feeding the rivers and  streams that spread over the land like spidery veins into irrigation  channels that traveled over miles of farmland. This enabled them to grow  a decent crop even when drought hit.

They even had a market where people could buy supplies.

It wasn't the nicest or biggest town the Lowlands had to offer, but it  would seem luxurious to the men in Shea's party. Shea had been many  places and seen many things. This wasn't the best of what she had seen,  but it wasn't the worst either. She'd guess it was middle of the road.  Nice enough, but hungry to be one of the trade meccas.

The town's atmosphere was strange today, Shea noted. A couple eyed her  as they gave her a wide berth. Now that she thought about it, the fruit  merchant had seemed a bit subdued as well. Normally, he was much more  vocal in his welcome.

People had begun avoiding the spot where Shea sat, until an invisible circle separated her from the rest of the square.

It was as if a pall hung over the town. Fear coated the houses, and Shea  felt eyes watching her from the windows. It had been in the elders'  faces as well. A tightness when they argued and a reserve that was not  normal for a simple trade negotiation. It was as if they were waiting  for something. Something bad.

Shea tossed the core of the peach behind her into one of the bushes.

She got up and walked slowly towards the closest stall, stopping and  perusing the goods. The two men in deep conversation with the owner  abruptly fell silent once they noticed her. Giving the owner a chin dip,  they departed.

Shea watched them go. Not her imagination then.

She gave the owner, who eyed her hostilely, a small smile before moving  away. Never letting her attention focus too long on any one thing, Shea  noted that she seemed to be the center of attention.

Was it just her or were the others from her group experiencing the same thing?

She wound her way through the market, ending up on the opposite side of  the square. She found a bench seat overlooking a small grassy area that  was surrounded by narrow garden beds filled with the first buds of  spring

Maybe if the townspeople stopped focusing on her, they would forget some  of their fear, and Shea could hear something interesting.         

     



 

After a while, Shea grew tired of just sitting there and leaned back,  laying down on the bench to look up at the sky. The clouds today  couldn't hold her attention, and before long, she grew drowsy.