Her husband’s manner was the opposite as he looked at Fallon with a sly amusement and drawled, “Whew, your people have a lot of energy. You’re going to have an interesting time corralling this bunch.”
“Who are you to interrupt a war council?” Ben challenged, his eyes narrowed at the two pathfinders.
“Watch your tone,” Van rumbled, surprising Fallon.
He glanced at the other man and noted the respectful nod he gave Lainey and Patrick, one that was returned. For a clan leader known to detest any who weren’t Trateri, it was a powerful statement. Fallon found himself wondering what had transpired to trigger that level of respect in the other man.
“They’re here by my request,” Fallon said before anyone could voice another argument. He raised his hand and gestured the other two forward.
There were two empty pillows at the table and they made their way over as the others watched with suspicious gazes.
Patrick’s body was relaxed as he sauntered to the table and looked down at the pillow before glancing up at his wife. “I’d pull out your chair, but I don’t think that’s possible.”
Her lips twitched as she stepped forward and lowered herself in a graceful movement. She folded her hands on the table and gave the rest of them a calm gaze, holding her head high and her shoulders back, almost regal in her bearing.
“Guildmaster,” Fallon said in greeting, inclining his head in a gesture of respect from one leader to another. “It’s good to have you here.”
“I would say the same,” she replied.
“She should be thanking us for our timely arrival,” one of the men sitting along the wall muttered. He was a commander—a minor one in Rain’s ranks.
Fallon had a feeling the man wouldn’t be advancing any further given the expression on Gawain’s face.
Lainey stiffened but didn’t show any other sign that the words had affected her.
Fallon lifted a hand, silencing any other arguments. Shea chose to slip into the tent at that moment, distracting him.
He noted the tiredness on her face and the circles under her eyes as she made her way to his side. The last update he’d had was that she was helping the medics. He’d hoped she would find her rest after that but understood why she hadn’t.
He didn’t let himself react to her presence beyond letting his gaze linger on her for a few more seconds than was normal.
She gave him an exhausted quirk of her lips, revealing in the nonverbal way she had, that she was happy to see him too. Once again, he thanked all the gods above that she’d been the one to save him in that village what felt like ages ago. He couldn’t imagine what life might have been like if she hadn’t crashed into it with all the grace of a buffalo, looking like an avenging goddess of old.
Fallon turned his attention to the rest of the group, steeling himself for what was to come. “We face an enemy unlike any other—one who doesn’t fight in a way we’re used to but rather waits in the dark and sends beasts to do what they can’t.”
Fallon looked around at those assembled. “Already we’ve faced losses that cut deep. If we want to survive the coming trial, we must find a new way to survive. We’ll need every resource at our disposal, including those who are not clan.”
There was a rumble at that, mostly from those who hadn’t been in the Keep for the last battle. Fallon noted with interest that there was no pushback from Lion, Rain or Ember. All of them had seen firsthand the powerful capabilities of the pathfinders and what could be accomplished when they worked as a unit instead of as enemies.
Fallon waited until those voicing opposition fell silent. He gave them a dark smile. “I’m not asking for your permission. What I do with my army is my business. This is simply a statement for your own information. The pathfinders will be recognized as their own clan. Not Trateri, but not outsiders either.”
He gestured for Lainey to say her piece, knowing what was coming.
She nodded and turned to the rest, her expression resolute and firm. “The Warlord and I have spoken at great length. He’s explained what it means to take on the responsibility of a clan. We have agreed to his conditions. My people will be inserted into your ranks and assist you in any way we can. Much as the people in your clans have a role to play, we do too. Consider us a type of scout. We will guide you through the dangers of the Highlands, assist in any way when it comes to beasts. But we’re not warriors. Don’t expect us to act like we are.”
Fallon let that sink in for a long moment.
There was confusion on many faces, as Fallon knew there would be. Offering them clan status wasn’t exactly unprecedented—it was how each clan had gotten its start—but it had not been done for many years and never for those who weren’t already Trateri.
It would take time for his people to settle into the idea. For them, you were either Trateri or you weren’t. If you weren’t, then you were an outsider; the Trateri wouldn’t trust an outsider at their backs under any circumstance.
Even the throwaways—a term given to those unfortunate souls who had been provided as tithe to secure the protection of their home village—didn’t enjoy such an honor. They were little more than labor for the jobs the Trateri had no desire to perform or they served on Fallon’s front lines, easily disposable, but rarely put in any positions of trust.
There were some exceptions to this as his telroi and a few others had proven, but by and large, his people were satisfied with the distinction between them and the rest of the world. This arrangement would complicate that. A challenge Fallon was prepared for.
The pathfinders had earned their right to remain a whole rather than be partitioned out among his people, their culture and oaths scattered among several thousand. They were a fierce people whose contributions would benefit him. As long as Lainey and her people kept to their side of the bargain, he could make this work. For all of them.
“That’s all for now,” Fallon said. “Each division will get a number of pathfinders. Be prepared to integrate them into your ranks.”
