"I'll need four men if we hope to recover them."
"Can't you do it by yourself?" a man sitting next to Zrakovi asked.
"No."
"You're a pathfinder. Isn't that your job?"
The rest of the men spoke over each other to voice their agreement about how this was impossible.
Shea didn't bother listening, instead tuning them out while she went over her packing list. She'd need at least five days rations for five people, best-case scenario. Her field pack was still packed, but she'd have to replenish some of the items used on her last journey. Hopefully, she had clean underwear and socks in her cottage. Hmm. When did she last do laundry? A week ago? Two? She could live in the same clothes if she had clean socks and undergarments.
"Are you even paying attention, girl?" Elder Zrakovi asked.
Shea brought her attention back to the matter at hand. "My contract stipulates that I may request help from the local population if I think it's necessary." She looked each man in the eye as she continued, "If your men are still alive, I will have to rescue them, and I can't do that alone. You will give me four able-bodied men accustomed to trail work and able to keep up on the distances we will be required to travel."
"We may not be able to spare that many men," Zrakovi said. "The tali will be flowering in a few days and if the mist holds off long enough, we'll need all the people we can get to bring in the yield."
The tali was a flowering vine that grew all through the rocks and mountains near the village and was a primary staple of the village's diet. Its stalk could be used in weaving and cloth production, while the fruit could be dried out or eaten raw. It was used in nearly every dish they made. It only flowered twice a year and during that time every man, woman, and child helped with the harvest.
"I'm not asking, elder. If you don't give me the men I require, I won't be going out after your son."
Shea knew harvesting the tali fruit was important. Without it the villagers faced the possibility of starvation, but she wasn't about to venture into the Lowlands by herself. It would be suicide. The elders had been warned of the dangers. If they couldn't supply the men, they could accept the consequences of ignoring sound advice.
The five conferred among themselves while Shea waited. Finally, they sat back.
"I can't give you four," Zrakovi said.
Shea nodded and turned to go.
"I can't give you four," he reiterated, raising his voice. "But I can give you two. It's all I can spare during the harvest."
Shea waited a beat. To be safe she needed four, but she'd known from the start the elders wouldn't spare the manpower. The contract's wording said she could refuse since they hadn't provided the necessary resources.
Doing so would mean death for the two men. If they weren't already dead.
Despite what the villagers thought of her, she didn't make her requests to make their lives difficult. James, the elder's son, was one of the few who didn't try to make her feel like a hindrance. He was a decent sort who had a smile for everybody. When she needed assistance on some of her more dangerous jaunts, he would sometimes volunteer.
She needed four, but she could make do with two.
"Tell them to be at the front gate at midday."
Relief filled the chamber. A few looks were traded back and forth, and several men nodded.
"Good." Zrakovi turned his back on Shea and took another drink. As she turned to go, he said, "I'll be sending a missive requesting a new pathfinder be assigned to replace you in Birdon Leaf."
"If that's what you feel is best." Shea inclined her head and strode away without a backward glance.
It would be the third such request since she arrived. The first two had elicited a carefully worded refusal that politely told all parties to suck it up and figure out a way to make it work.
As soon as she was outside, she put all thoughts of the elders and their barely concealed disapproval out of her head. There was a lot to get done in two short hours. Edgecomb was a two-day journey if they traveled fast and took few breaks. Depending on who they gave her, she might be able to cut that time down even more.
That wasn't what worried her though. Last time she had scouted the route she'd noticed several of the more dangerous beasts had nested in some of the cliffs. This wouldn't be a problem under normal circumstances because she could detour around the nests. This time, however, the quickest route skirted right along the edge of their territory.
She spent most of the next two hours securing supplies for her journey. Since they had to carry their own packs and would be on foot, every item had to be absolutely necessary. That meant no more food than necessary and just enough water to get them to the next watering hole. It was a delicate balancing act that required Shea to draw from previous experience as well as intuition.
Her last stop was her cottage, the only other stone building in the village. In many respects, it reminded Shea of the older ruins found deep in the Highland's heart. It just had that feel to it. The kind of feeling that said it had been forgotten by time and man.
It was small. A grown woman could barely stand inside without bumping her head. The walls were close and cramped. Nature had threaded twisting vines through its stone walls in an attempt to reclaim the structure. In spring, it looked as if a blanket patterned with pinks, purples and blues had been wrapped around it as flowers bloomed on those vines. In winter, the unpatched holes gave little protection against the cold.
Shea loved it. Even when it was colder than a witch's tit. Despite the neglect of humans, it persevered and even managed to be beautiful while existing in symbiosis with the land around it.
Nobody knew its past purpose. Regarding it with deep suspicion, the villagers allowed it to fade from their collective memory. Pretending it didn't exist was easy as it was located at the rear of the village, close to the wall.
They gave it to Shea when she arrived because nobody wanted to live here and because, as an outsider, she was regarded with the same level of suspicion.
Shea held up a sixth pair of socks. Did she really need them? The route they were taking was relatively clear of any water. The weather had cooled as summer loosened its grip, and fall took its place. Still, it was vital to keep feet dry during a long journey and would be much more comfortable besides.
An extra pair of socks in her bag wouldn't really make a difference but as packing progressed those little extras really added up.
The supplies ready and her bag packed, Shea slipped her arms through the two loops and lifted it onto her back. Bending forward, she tugged on the bottom of the straps, tightening the pack until it hugged her back and wouldn't flop around while she was running.
She grabbed one of her maps off her desk and headed out the door. As always it took a few steps to get used to having a pack's weight, but by the time she reached the front gate she was able to ignore it to focus on other matters.
She arrived at the front gate carrying her sack of supplies, mostly food, but some odds and ends. Two men watched her approach. One had taken a seat on an overturned bucket and was using his knife to peal a piece of fruit. The years had carved crow's feet in the corner of his eyes and grooves around his mouth. His skin was leathery, and his brown hair was pulled back away from his face.
His companion was much younger, probably a little younger than Shea, with curly reddish-blond hair that barely reached his ears. His forehead was broad over sky blue eyes that made the girls in the village swoon every time he smiled at them.
"Witt. Dane." Shea gave a respectful nod as she stopped in front of them. "You know why you're here?"
Witt, the elder of the two, nodded and flicked a peel off his knife. Dane smiled at her, his eyes twinkling merrily. She'd worked with both before. Witt wasn't so bad. Just surly. But he listened when she had something to say and was handy in a fight.
Dane might be a problem. He tended to flirt his way out of work and was under the impression that he knew more than he did. Too bad she couldn't leave him behind this time. Unfortunately, he was good with a boomer and the only man in the village able to use one. She would need that if they ran into trouble.
"Good." She set the supply sack on the ground and withdrew some rations, handing each man his share.
"This is barely a day's worth of food," Dane complained, holding up the meat wrapped in loaves of bread. "It's not enough."
"It is," Shea corrected him. She held out two canteens of water to him and gave Witt the other two. "You'll have to ration your supplies. There are several pieces of fruit in that bag as well as dried meat that you can eat while on the road. We're traveling light this trip. We can't afford any extra weight if we want to get to Edgecomb before mist fall."