Free Pathfinder's Way by T.A. White Page B

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.
    She drifted in that odd in between place of
sleep and consciousness.
    “The elders have a plan, I tell you.”
    “They’d better. No one wants to go the way of
Edgecomb.”
    Shea kept her eyes closed, though she stopped
drifting.
    The first speaker’s reply was muted.
    “They do, and I’d bet anything those
strangers are factor into their schemes.”
    Another response that Shea couldn’t make
out.
    “Let them pay the tribute….” The second
speaker’s voice faded as he moved out of hearing range.
    Well, wasn’t that interesting? It wasn’t
much, and Shea hadn’t understood most of it, but she was surer than
ever that something was very wrong in this town.
    She opened one eye and grunted. The sun had
begun to set, scattering stripes of reds, oranges and blues in wide
arcs. It was probably best to head back to the lodging before full
sunset.
    She rolled off the bench, grimacing at the
tight knots in her back, and stretched. Perhaps a bench