“The frostling left me alone when Eamon waved his torch at it.” She nodded to the torch in his hand.
“If I lose any more men to this frostling, I’ll have you both strung up,” Cale warned.
“Understood,” Eamon said.
“What did it look like?” Buck asked Shea as the others moved through the camp spreading the word that a fire needed to be kept lit.
“A shadow.” Shea’s eyes were haunted as they stared out into the silver night.
The rest of the night passed in a tense fashion as they waited for the comfort of day. Shea didn’t sleep. Every time she nodded off she startled back awake at every brush of chill breeze. The others did the same and moods were dark and tempers frayed by the time they set out the next morning.
They traveled much faster not beset by the same setbacks as the previous day. No doubt thoughts of frostlings and the close call the men experienced had something to do with that.
The rest of the trip passed uneventfully and two days later they were winding their way through the last hills before the encampment. It had been moved since the first time Shea had seen it, and this time it crouched in a clearing, trees dwarfing it on one side and a high cliff on another.
“I will be so happy when we can dump these whiners,” Buck muttered beside her.
She grunted in agreement. Cale had been a snarling terror to work with the past few days.
They split from the caravan as soon as they passed the first string of guards and rode to the Dawn’s Riders’ corrals and dismounted. Once finished caring for her mount, Shea picked up her pack and followed the other three into the tent city.
After finding their temporary quarters, Eamon headed out to give his report to the task commander. Shea followed since she had to return the map to the cartographers so they could incorporate her observations into the next generation of maps. It also prevented the maps from falling into the wrong hands.
Eamon stopped in front of a blue and beige patterned tent and took a breath before stepping inside. Shea didn’t envy him the report he had to give and continued on to the next tent. It had a banner planted in front picturing twin mountains with a horizontal wavy line under them that depicted water. She brushed aside the flap and stepped inside, blinking at the sudden dimness. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she headed to a long table where several men were hard at work.
She sighed. It looked like Owen wasn’t working. That wasn’t good news for her as one of the cartographers on duty tended to take it personally when she made her own notations on the maps. She faced questions and recriminations, and she was so tired. All she wanted was to drop it off so she could head back to her tent for a couple hours of shuteye before dinner.
“Every moment you stand there is a moment wasted.” Vincent looked up and gave her a sharp-toothed smile.
Shea fought the urge to drag her feet as she approached the desk and handed him her rolled up map, complete with changes and corrections. She knew from experience that he’d just snatch the map from any of his underlings. Might as well give it directly to him if it was going to end up with him anyway.
“What have you changed this time?” he taunted, unrolling it before setting it in front of him. “I see you crossed off an entire set of ridges. And a river. Silly us to have put those in there.”
“I’m just doing as I was told. Updating the map according to what we encounter in the field.”
“I see. I see.” He nodded and looked back at the map. “It just amazes me that no other scout seems to make the amount of corrections you do.”
He knew as well as she that most of the other scouts didn’t know how to make those changes. When she didn’t answer, he rolled up the parchment and tossed it to another man who caught it before rolling his eyes at Vincent’s back. Seemed Shea wasn’t the only one who thought the man was a pompous sack of wind.
“Here.” Vincent held out a rolled up piece of parchment tied with a red ribbon.
Shea unrolled it, her eyebrows lowering in question. It was a map. “What’s this?”
He gave her an ‘are you stupid’ look. “It’s a map.”
“I know that. Why? We just got back.”
“Well, I guess you’re being sent back out.” He made little shooing motions. “Run along, now. We’ve got work to do.”
Shea lingered, her gaze drawn to the partition behind Vincent. From what she’d been able to piece together from overheard conversations and what she’d witnessed in all her visits to the cartographers, she guessed that the back room held the majority of the Trateri’s maps. It might even hold the maps she’d left behind all those months ago. Unfortunately, the room was constantly occupied and she hadn’t been able to think of a reason to go back there and snoop around.
Vincent cleared his throat, drawing her attention and then gesturing outside.
She rolled the map back up and turned on her heel, pushing out of the tent. Sometimes she just wanted to strangle the man.
Outside, she blinked and shaded her eyes as they adjusted back to the bright light. It looked like Eamon was still talking to the task commander about whatever this next mission was.
Wanting to speak to him before she procured supplies, Shea stepped to the side and unrolled the map, figuring she’d familiarize herself with their route in case they really did have to head right out.
She’d seen this map before or one very like it. The information in it was wrong though. A lot was missing or mismarked.
Damn, she’d have to talk to Vincent again to get it fixed. Just what she needed, another encounter with the finicky map maker.
As she rolled it up, Vincent strode past her, moving at a fast clip. Not wanting to have to come back, Shea darted after him.
Some instinct warned her against calling out so instead she trailed behind, wrestling with the need to address the error filled map but also knowing something was off.
Why would he leave his post in the middle of a shift? During the busiest part of the shift? Everything she knew about the Trateri indicated this was against character. There was a rule about it or something. One of those she was supposed to know but could never seem to remember. Eamon waxed on about them all the time.
When he abruptly turned a corner to disappear between two tents, Shea darted after him, stopping at the last minute. Hearing voices, she flattened her back against the tent.
“Is it done?” a woman asked.
“Yes. I’ve distributed the maps you gave me to the troops.”
“The correct ones?” another man asked. His voice was familiar, though muffled, as if she had heard it before. And recently.
“Misplaced, as you ordered.”
“Are you sure that he got the fake ones? We need the trap to work. He’s escaped too many time in the past,” the woman said.
Who was this he? Whoever it was seemed to be important enough to sabotage?
The voices moved away. Shea stayed where she was, knowing if she followed her chances of being discovered spying increased. It didn’t seem like the sort of conversation she wanted to be caught listening to.
Shea walked away, taking the first path to the right, taking another and another until she was well and truly away from the trio.
What had she just heard? It was momentous, whatever it was.
There was a plot against someone in the Trateri ranks. Someone extremely important from the sound of it.