There was a brief outcry at this. Several women fainted, their men catching them before they hit the ground.
"Several months ago when my men came upon this Lowland cesspit, they gave you a choice. Fight and be sent to meet your ancestors with honor, or submit and pay us a tithe for however long we choose to collect it. Two weeks ago your tithe came due. My men came and then returned to me empty handed. This was not what we agreed. Now, you have one chance and one chance only to make this right. Bring me what you owe and half more, today, and face the consequences of breaking your word or … . Well I really don't suggest or."
"I bet my last ration of Ka grass they're too scared to speak," one of the Trateri just beyond Eamon said.
"I'll take that bet," said a man with a yellow belt.
"My best knife they refuse to pay." A third man with braids on either side of his temples.
"All right," yellow belt said.
"Eamon," Shea started.
"Easy, Shane. They're just blowing off steam."
She didn't think so. They seemed way too jocular. Bad enough they were terrorizing these people. They didn't have to be so damn happy about it too.
"No one will speak?" Fallon scowled down at the people below him. His horse high stepped and threw its head back. He brought it to an abrupt halt and stared at the upturned faces. As if coming to a decision, he nodded and wheeled the animal around. "Let that be your answer then."
To the waiting Trateri, "Spread out and go through all of the homes. Find anyone who is hiding and bring them here."
"Damn," yellow belt said.
The first gambler let out a happy whistle
"Guess I'm getting a new knife," the braids said.
"They could still come up with the payment," yellow belt said.
"Unlikely," braids said as he dismounted. "Face it, you're going to be giving that knife to me before we leave this miserable cesspit."
"Come on, Shane," Buck said quietly at her elbow.
Shea looked helplessly down at him. She didn't know if she could turn in anybody she might find.
"We have to help them look," he said. His eyes were understanding but resolute.
She closed hers and bowed her head. No getting out of it. Time to grit her teeth and bear it. She'd help who she could and if she couldn't- well, that could be a matter for a later time.
He waited as she dismounted. For the first time since that first night, after her conscription into Fallon's army, her legs were unsteady and unsure they wanted to hold her. She carefully laid her horse's reins over its head before turning and trudging after Buck.
They passed several of the mud huts, Buck leading, Shea in the middle and Eamon bringing up the rear. It felt strange not to be in front.
From the sounds coming from the huts, the Trateri were being thorough in their search and not at all gentle. There was a woman's sharp cry and a triumphant shout. At least one had found success in their hunt.
"Shane," Buck said.
Shea pulled her attention away from the direction of the shouts to find Buck standing in front of a hut.
"In here," he said.
She nodded.
He drew the short sword from a sheath at his waist.
Ah, yes. Of course. Only made sense to take precautions. These people almost certainly regarded the Trateri and by extension, Shea, as enemies. They might act accordingly.
Shea fumbled for her own short sword. A calloused hand stopped her before she could draw it.
"We'd prefer if you left that sheathed for now," Eamon told her with a wry smile.
Shea stared dumbly at him, not understanding. Then suddenly she got it.
She snorted and let go of the blade's hilt. He had a point. She was still a new entity to the team, and these were her supposed people. A person might think her willingness to help in the field would undergo a drastic change when her fellow Lowlanders' lives were in danger.
Hell, they probably thought she was going to turn on them in a blaze of misguided fury.
She held up her hands to signal her compliance. Eamon removed his hand and stepped back, giving her a chin tilt of approval.
"So are we going to do this or just stand around outside all day," Shea said, looking between the two of them. "I'm good either way."
Eamon raised an eyebrow and looked at Buck. "The lad says he's good."
Buck smirked back. "Guess I'll lead on then."
Shea didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't to see Buck turn to the door and give it a solid kick, sending it flying inwards.
"A little dramatic, but points for flair," Shea muttered following after him.
The interior of the one room hut was dim. There were no windows to provide extra light. No doubt as a deterrent to beast attack. A window would have only provided another avenue for entry into the small home. They probably also lacked the skill to create openings in the walls without also creating severe weakness in the structure.
It was so stuffy and dark in the building. Shea didn't know how they could bear to spend much time in it. She'd go crazy inside of a week. The walls already felt like they were closing in on her,
"It stinks. How do they live like this?" Buck asked, covering his nose.
It did stink. The pungent smell of the morning's meal still lingered in the air. It also smelled of unwashed bodies, mold, and earth.
The floor was dirt and covered in dead grass.
"No windows means no ventilation," Shea commented as she passed a small wooden table. "Smells get trapped."
Two bowls rested on it. One was half filled with empty bean shells, the other with the unshelled beans. The woman was probably preparing for that night's meal. Shea hoped she got the chance to make it.
Buck shook his head in disgust and started opening and shutting what few cupboards there were. Eamon looked under the only bed. There were no other places to search.
Shea was drawn to a baby's crib in the corner. What would the Trateri do with the children? Would they face the same fate as their parents?
She ran her hands along the smooth, hand carved edge. It was simple but finely made. The feel against her fingers wasn't right. She rubbed them together, noticing the slight grainy texture that lingered.
There wasn't enough light to tell what she'd touched so she stepped closer to the door. The grayish film on her fingers was easily identifiable as dust.
Her forehead wrinkled. That couldn't be right. Even a Lowlander wouldn't lay their child down without dusting the crib.
Could their child already be grown? There was no other bed.
"Shane, you ready? I don't think there's anybody in here," Eamon said.
She rubbed her fingers together slowly as she pondered this riddle.
"Just a minute," she said in a distracted tone of voice.
"What's he doing?" Buck asked Eamon as she strode to the crib and lifted the small baby's blanket from it. "There's nothing here."
She examined the material carefully and held it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. She promptly sneezed. And then sneezed again.
She walked back to the door way. Stepping into the light, she gave the blanket a vigorous shake. Dust flew. Enough to illuminate the small rays of sunlight.
"Okay, what's the deal with the blanket?" Buck asked, folding his arms over his chest. Eamon leaned against the door, watching Shea as she thought.
"Did either of you see any children?" she asked.
Buck shook his head. "I don't think so, no. What about you, Eamon?"
Eamon looked deep in thought before he shook his head. "You think they might be hiding them?"
Hiding them? Possibly.
"How many people were supposed to live in this village?"
Both shook their heads. "The party who first came through here probably got a head count. It's necessary to determine how big a tithe they can afford to give, but we don't know what that number is. We're scouts. We don't need to know."
"Right."
So she'd have to do this the hard way.
"Either of you got a guess as to how many people were gathered when we arrived?"
Shea paced in a circle counting the huts. It didn't take her long. The village wasn't that big.
Buck shrugged. "Twenty maybe twenty-five."
Eamon nodded. "I agree."
"I doubt your men recovered more than five people hiding."
"You'd be correct."
"There's, what, thirty huts I'd say. Unless every person in this village has their own home, there are a lot of people missing," Shea said.
Eamon's eyes shot to the huts, counting as she had. He straightened as realization dawned.
"Buck, head back to the village center and get them to do a headcount."
Buck's face was grim as he moved, without another word, to follow Eamon's orders.
"What're you thinking? That they've got their people stashed somewhere?" he asked, following her as she moved through the village.
It didn't take long for her to find what she was looking for, a building with a rowan branch pinned to the door and two revenant skulls with blue flowers threaded through the eyes mounted on pikes on either side.