Free The Gods of Garran by Meredith Skye

couldn't win a fight with them.
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    “Discover all you can about this Clan Conclave. But be careful," Ruben had sent back to Asta. She knew he would worry. This was her first truly solo assignment. "Who will be there? Where will it take place? But do not draw suspicion to yourself.” These were the instructions Asta received when she radioed her report back to the Agency before entering Wanthe.
    Asta spent several days poking about the town of Wanthe and making small talk with the townspeople, gathering information on the Clan Conclave and who ran it. She sometimes worried that her flawed Garran accent would give her away as a Chanden. She dismissed the fear as a form of stage-fright, right before an important performance.
    Meanwhile, Molot seemed somewhat taken with her, inviting her to dinner, talking almost ceaselessly, attempting to impress her with his appearance and strength. He failed, of course.
    Molot was Garran and she had no attraction for him whatsoever. Nor for any Garran. Yes, they could be very muscular, but there was something about them that she found insurmountable. A barrier. Still, he showered her with his attentions, which was to her advantage. Through Molot, Asta got invited to dinner with his father, Heyvaan, an invitation she had no intention of passing up--no matter how much Molot repulsed her.
    Their clan home was triangular, as were many of the buildings in Urrlan. So once inside, the place felt disturbingly familiar. But in Wanthe, these buildings were much older and more decayed.
    Asta said little to anyone. The less she said, the less they'd guess her identity as a Chanden. This silence made her all the more formidable to them--all the more ominous, and she knew. So be it.
    The dinner tasted better than she anticipated, having eaten in the villages before. Molot's family had a very good cook.
    They sat at the table. Molot's father, Heyvaan, as silent as Asta, sat across the room studying her. Once the formality of the dinner was over, the conversation turned to the town and how its people fared.
    Asta learned much about the people and the area--though by custom they spoke of nothing too secret, with a stranger present. She needed to break through the politeness, into their confidence.
    She knew what Ruben would say--sleep with the man. That was the best way to learn secrets. Ruben was an expert at this, as she'd found out. Another strike against him in her eyes. He'd sleep with anyone if it advanced his cause.
    And despite Ruben's training, it wasn't in Asta's nature to use her body to gain other people's favor. But sooner or later, she assumed that it would come to that, working for the Agency.
    Ruben had said to just gather information on the Conclave. But Asta was determined to do more than that. What if she could get invited to participate in the Conclave?
    Isn't that what the Agency wanted? Someone who could attend and find out what the Garrans were up to? What were their plans?
    Ruben would be furious. She smiled at this. Perhaps it was the best plan after all.
    Asta couldn't just ask for their support into the Clan Conclave. Such a request might seem too direct. But maybe she would see how far she could get. She could show Ruben what she was capable of.
    And if she got in … she'd be even more valuable to the Agency. They'd need her. Make herself invaluable--that was the answer.
    She looked around the room at the other guests at the table.
    "Where are you from? You are not from anywhere near here," spoke the chief at last. His first words.
    "I am Te'jaste, of the Shing River Clan," she said. "My parents died when I was young. I was raised by my aunt, Miggreth, near Noloon." They nodded vaguely. The area wasn't well known to them. None challenged it. "When I was ten, she died and the Chanden took me to Urrlan and made me go to their schools. This I did for five years. When old enough, I ran from them and found my way back to Noloon." The story went on for a half an