His gaze turned to Wilhelm at her side and he blinked. “We have a few lying around, though I’m not sure how much information they’ll give you on the mythologicals. Just a few stray stories we never weeded out.” His gaze turned cautious. “What do you need them for?”
She gave a shrug. “Same thing you do. To teach people about the dangers of the Highlands.”
He gave her a slightly censorious glance as her smile turned bashful. “My mother has asked for an alliance. They deserve to know what they’re up against. What harm could a few primers do?”
He sighed, flicking another glance at her companion before looking away again, his cheeks slightly red. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Shea gave him a relieved look. “Allyn, I can’t thank you enough.”
He flapped a hand at her. “None of that now.”
She settled back and gave him a worried look. One hurdle cleared. Another one to go. “I don’t suppose you know where we can pick up a few maps of the surrounding area?”
His eyes bugged out and he shook his head. “Shea, no.”
“Not the pathfinder maps,” Shea rushed to say. “Just one of the basic ones. The type we give to the children to get them used to reading maps.”
When she said basic, she meant basic. The maps were filled with only the most general of landmarks, nothing that could be used against her people. She’d prefer something a bit more detailed, but the chances of her getting her hands on those were almost nonexistent.
“It would be very much appreciated,” Wilhelm said, his handsome face expectant as he gave Allyn a blinding smile. Even Shea was slightly affected by his beauty and blinked. Her normally quiet guard had suddenly turned into a bright beacon.
Allyn sighed. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Your mother put Whelan in charge of those and the rest of the maps shortly before you arrived. I can get you the primers, but if you want the maps, you’ll have to go through him.”
“Not that old man,” Shea said.
“Yup,” Allyn said with a wry smile.
“He hates me,” she said, frustration lacing her voice.
Allyn squinted and lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Hate is a strong word. Whatever it is, he feels the same about most people.”
Shea’s shoulders drooped. Great, looked like she’d have to beard the beast in his lair.
“Come back once you’ve spoken to him. That should give me enough time to get everything ready,” Allyn said.
*
Leaving the nursery behind, Shea turned toward the south tower. It wasn’t far but would mean descending several floors while hoping not to meet any pathfinders who might guess what they were up to.
In the Keep, navigation was centered around the towers. It was a bit like a maze on the inside, so if someone asked you where you needed to go, you’d tell them the closest tower and they’d direct you from there. It was easy to get lost and turned around, but you could always orient yourself by looking out a window and seeing the tower closest to you.
Whelan’s lair was below ground level in what Shea used to refer to as the dungeon. It had been many, many years since it’d been used for such a purpose, but the name still stuck. Why he’d decided to stay somewhere the sun couldn’t shine was beyond her. It was dank and cold and always made the skin on the back of her neck crawl.
“Is this person an outsider among your people?” Wilhelm asked, looking around the dim corridor. He hadn’t liked descending the last staircase but had followed her against his better judgment.
“Not exactly,” Shea said as she knocked softly on the door, waiting until a voice called for her to enter.
She cracked the door open and then paused, turning to give Wilhelm a hard stare.
“Wait here,” she told him.
“Shea,” he protested.
“I’ll be fine. This man will not hurt me.”
“Not like I could even if I wanted to,” a crotchety old man snarled from within the chamber.
There was a shuffle of feet and then the door was yanked open, nearly bringing Shea with it. She let go before she could be pulled off her feet, turning to find a man who resembled a giant bird. A set of bifocals perched on his face, making his eyes seem much larger than they actually were. Tufts of hair stuck up all over his head as Whelan frowned.
