“The Airabel have no way to build latrine pits since their homes are built into the branches of the great soul trees.”
Their expressions said they had never considered how the Airabel handled waste. Shea wasn’t surprised. The Trateri had never seen a sky village built into the canopy of a tree so tall it was difficult seeing the crown of it when you were standing right next to it on the ground. They had probably never even thought of the logistics of life up there. Unlike Shea, who’d spent many visits living and learning about the Airabel during her time as a pathfinder. Then, she’d lived in one of the tree top homes, instead of camping out on the forest floor as the Trateri did.
Shea sighed. They still weren’t getting it. “They use chamber pots that they empty over the side of the village every morning. Anything below gets a nice coating of whatever they ate the previous day.”
It was why the land below the village was so lush. Flowers and other vegetation had taken advantage of the nutrient rich soil derived from generations of fertilizer.
“They can’t go there,” Calvin said, staring at the map. “We’d never hear the end of it.”
“I say put them there,” an elder whose name Shea hadn’t bothered to learn said. “They deserve what they get for waiting so long to join us. They should have been here months ago, instead of waiting to see if the Hawkvale’s plans would succeed.”
There was a murmur of agreement around the table.
Shea didn’t know the particulars of the situation or why the two clans were just joining the other five now. She did know that putting them there was a disaster in the making. If nothing else, it would lead to additional meetings such as this as the newcomers aired their grievances. Shea would like to avoid that.
“What about here?” Shea asked, pointing to a corner of the map.
Gala and the rest leaned closer, frowning thoughtfully at the spot Shea indicated.
“That’s the horse pasture,” Calvin said.
“That we don’t use,” Shea said. “There are too many dangerous plants that could kill the horses. The horse master said he planned to move them further afield where there was less danger.”
“So, you’re saying the horses are more important than Ember or Rain.”
Shea fought down a sense of frustration. That wasn’t what she’d said at all.
“Not at all. Merely that they have the tools to make this spot safe for their people whereas the horses do not.”
One elder harrumphed. “I say the horses are more important than either of those clans.”
“They could see it as an insult on our part,” another cautioned.
Shea forced herself not to roll her eyes. Because putting them in a spot where shit would be dumped on them every morning was less of an insult.
She couldn’t take her sitting position any longer and shifted, easing her weight off her legs. They prickled with an angry buzzing sensation as feeling rushed back into them.
Daere aimed a disapproving stare her way. She probably thought Shea was showing weakness she couldn’t afford, but Shea shrugged off the other woman’s disapproval. If they chose to see her inability to kneel in one position for an indeterminate length of time as weakness, they would learn the exact depths of her strength should they choose to test her.
She propped her chin on her hand and listened as the elders debated the merits of the two spots. Daere gave her another frown and tilted her head as if to invite Shea to insert her opinion. Shea gave her a blank expression and feigned confusion as if she didn’t know exactly what Daere wanted. Shea wasn’t a peacemaker. If Daere wanted this fixed, she’d have to do it herself.
Daere’s lips tightened before she aimed a serene expression at the rest of the group. “How about we give them a choice?” Daere said, stepping into the blossoming argument. “Let them decide which of the two areas would fit their needs best.”
Gala and Calvin listened with attentive expressions before sharing a look with the rest of the group. They both nodded as a chorus of agreement came from the other elders.
Shea kept her heartfelt thanks that the meeting was over inside. She placed her hands on the table to begin leveraging her way to her feet.
“On to the next issue,” Calvin said.
Shea froze. No. They were done. How could there be more?
Her eyes swung to Daere’s, who gave her a meaningful stare combined with the barest hint of a victorious smirk before turning her attention back to the conversation. Shea’s shoulders drooped, and she settled back into place. Her chance to escape the tedium had disappeared.
*
Shea strode down the small path sandwiched between several tents as she tried to ignore the woman pacing by her side. Daere was the epitome of the perfect Trateri woman—graceful with just a hint of that ferocious fire that said she would eviscerate any who got in her way. Adorned in the abundance of jewelry preferred by those Trateri not of the warrior caste, Daere’s clothes were complex and yet simple, speaking of the highest craftsmanship.
Next to her, Shea felt like a homely usurper, wearing the pants and blouse she normally wore when on the trail. She’d had a much different plan for the day before Daere forced her into that meeting using placid smiles and artful words.
