“You want to bring them all to the Lowlands?” someone Shea didn’t recognize asked. “If we abandon those lands, the Azelii and the Keric will claim them for their own. We’ll have lost our ancestral home.”
“They’ll claim nothing but a wasteland,” Fallon said, his voice hard. “This is our only option if we want to survive. The resources in our lands already cannot support our current population. Those lands may be where our father and his father and his father before him were given a sky burial, but our oldest stories say it is not where our ancestors lay. It is simply the land we ended up in when we were driven from our homes during the cataclysm. Our ancestors will understand if we abandon them to ensure our survival as a people.”
Fallon met each person’s eyes with an implacable expression. The one that Shea had dubbed his warlord expression because it said that there would be no arguing with him, no challenging his wishes. He’d made a decree and he expected it to be followed.
The men and women at the table looked like they didn’t have the energy to oppose him. The news Braden had brought seemed to drain them.
Daere stared into the distance, her thoughts far away. Henry seemed resigned, as if he had been expecting this but had hoped for better. Darius’s expression was thoughtful and grim. Shea could almost see thoughts and plans being considered and discarded when they failed to meet his expectations. Darius was a strategist—the best besides Fallon. It looked like he was already factoring the news into his calculations.
Shea studied Fallon, his face like stone and his thoughts hidden behind a stern expression. She’d known that their home in the Outlands held limited resources for their people, but she had not realized the situation was quite so dire. It sounded like he was preparing to migrate all of the Trateri from their territory in the Outlands, instead of trying to extend their reach to the Lowlands.
This would change things, but Shea had yet to figure out how.
“That will be all. I have given you much to think on. I suggest you take the next few days to consider what I’ve said here. We have dark days ahead, ones where we will have to make hard decisions that might mean sacrificing to survive. I expect every one of you to be prepared if the worst comes to pass.” Fallon dismissed the group.
He gave Shea a significant look, telling her without words to remain where she was as the others departed. When they were finally on their own, he turned to her, studying her face with a considering expression.
“Most of my army does not know how far things have deteriorated in our homelands. I’d like to keep it that way for now. Knowing could cause dissension and would distract them from where they need to be focused.”
Shea frowned at him. She’d assumed as much, otherwise he wouldn’t have dismissed Eamon and the other commanders before having Braden make his announcement.
Seeing the confusion on her face, he gave her a half smile, a small twist of the lips that managed to convey his ruefulness. “I know you understand, but I needed to make sure you didn’t reveal this to your friends just yet.”
“Of course.” She understood, perhaps better than most, how important information was and what effect it could have on people. After all, controlling the flow of information and knowledge was how the pathfinders began.
He reached out and tugged on a strand of hair that had fallen out of the small braid she’d attempted. “Would you spend the afternoon with me?”
There was a hint of vulnerability to his face that took Shea off guard. The word, “Yes,” was out of her mouth before she could stop it, even though she’d thought to follow up with the Airabel on the problem of the mist.
His half-smile widened, lighting up his entire face. An answering warmth filled Shea. She frowned, nonplussed that someone else’s emotions could have such an impact on her own. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
“I was planning to head to the treetop to get started on research, but I can take you around the village up there instead.” She gave him small smile of her own. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”
“Oh, and what’s stopped you before?”
She gave him a reproachful look. “Who is the one who decided to sneak out while I was asleep?”
He grinned repentantly. “You were sleeping so soundly; I couldn’t bring myself to bother you.”
Her glare said she was not amused. His statement reminded her of the argument they were going to have soon. The one she had put to the side in favor of the twin issues of the mist and the blight on his homelands distracting them.
“We will be talking about that,” Shea informed him. “And soon.”
He inclined his head. “I would expect no less.”
She huffed at him and stood. The moment wasn’t right, her issue seeming inconsequential in comparison to the other dangers they faced. She’d wait a little longer, maybe after she’d shown him some of the village.
She turned to the door saying with a backwards glance, “Are you coming?”
He rolled to his feet, his stride that of a lethal predator as he stalked behind her. “An army couldn’t keep me away.”
She snorted and shook her head. Such a way with words.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT TOOK over an hour to reach Airabel, a tree-top village made up of an interconnected maze of pathways built by rope bridges and ladders. These shortcuts from thick branch to thick branch allowed the inhabitants to travel throughout the village without having to backtrack to the trunk of the tree. The trunk was the center around which life revolved; the village sprouting around it like a wheel, the branches being the spokes on which life flowed.
The villagers had risen to meet the challenges of life suspended hundreds of feet in the air by carving their homes directly into the tree. Some were nestled into the great trunk at the village’s heart. As the village population had grown along with the tree, they’d carved the base of their dwellings into the wood of the thick branches that reached out from the tree’s heart. They’d coaxed smaller branches to grow from the thicker limbs until they interwove, weaving them together to create the walls and roofs. Surprisingly, this process didn’t kill the branch or harm the tree.
Shea had asked how they were able to create living houses that grew and changed even as its inhabitants did but was told that it was a secret only the architects of their people knew. Though her curiosity had nearly consumed her, she had left them their secrets. The wonder she felt when she viewed these living houses was enough. She didn’t need to know how they were created to know they were special.
Around the base of the trunk, larger dwellings had been carved out to create meeting places for the entire village to gather. These buildings were much older than the ones further down the branches. As a result, the roofs towered high above the floor, the wood smooth and patterned with age.
The first time Shea had stood in one of those great chambers, she’d been left with an almost spiritual feeling—the space seeming almost holy with the lifeblood of the tree flowing all around it.
Today, Shea didn’t intend to show Fallon the trunk, as he’d seen it when he and his people had first come to a halt under the branches of the soul tree. No, there was something else she wanted him to see. Something that she had only discovered recently during one of the many times she had slipped away from Daere and the Anateri guards.