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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