Page 86 of Paladin's Faith

“People steal the bracing timbers,” said Wren. She was pressed as far back from the edge as she could be, back firmly against the stone, and was staring up at the sky. “Same thing used to happen back home.”

“They don’t like having a path through the mountains?” Marguerite hazarded, wondering exactly what had happened to give Wren her fear of heights, and if it had to do with the trails in her homeland.

Wren glanced in her direction and managed a smile. “The trees up here are all pine,” she said. “Softwood. These timbers are brought in from the lowlands, and they’re much sturdier than anything up here. People take them to build their own homes, or to brace up paths where they drive their animals to pasture.”

“Seems short-sighted,” said Marguerite, pushing away from the wall and following Shane upward again.

“Not really. They know that the clan lord will replace these eventually.”

“The clan lord doesn’t seem to know that,” said Davith sourly.

Wren shrugged. “Maybe they’ve got a lousy clan lord.”

“Judging by the map, this path is no longer regularly used,” Shane called back. “Perhaps it is simply no longer worth the effort to keep it up.” He paused for a moment, testing the ground in front of him. “The edge up ahead is crumbling. I suggest we keep hard to the wall. Wren…”

“I’m fine.”

Davith straightened and looked at Shane over Marguerite’s head. “I’ll go after her,” he offered.

“I don’t need your help,” Wren snapped.

“Nobody’s helping you. I just would rather not have my back to you in a spot where accidents would be so convenient.”

Wren’s eyes narrowed. “Believe me, when I kill you, you’ll know it wasn’t an accident.”

“I’m terribly comforted. Still, ladies first.”

Marguerite had a pretty good idea that Davith was starting a fight with Wren so she’d pay attention to him and not the edge, so she bit down her instinct to rise to Wren’s defense and began inching along the wall herself. Shane hadn’t lied. If anything, he’d understated the case. There were spots where the path seemed to be held in place entirely by tufts of grass that had taken root in the rock crevices. In one or two places, there was barely six inches of path remaining at all.

“If mules are using this, it must be safe,” Marguerite muttered, following Davith following Wren following Shane.

“Being safe for mules doesn’t mean safe for humans,” Davith said over his shoulder.

“Aren’t we smarter than mules?”

He snorted loudly. “Sweetheart, I don’t think I’ve known more than a dozen people in my life who were smarter than a mule.”

“Oh look, something we agree on,” Wren said.

“I thought you didn’t like horses,” said Marguerite.

“I like horses fine. Horses don’t like berserkers. Mules are…” She frowned, obviously trying to think of a comparison. “Half of them won’t come near us for love or money, and the other half go out of their way to let you know that they aren’t impressed.”

“I’ve known women like that,” Davith said.

Fortunately, another treacherous switchback cut off Wren’s reply. Shane reached down with both hands and pulled Marguerite up onto the next level. For a moment their bodies were pressed full-length against each other. They both hesitated a moment too long, and then Shane hastily stepped back, and Marguerite stood aside to let Wren and Davith pass.

“You remember how I told you once not to bed him?” Davith murmured, letting the other two get farther ahead and out of immediate earshot.

Marguerite flapped her hand toward his face, as if he were a mosquito she could swat away. “You may have said something of the sort. It was none of your business then, and it still isn’t.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Davith, apparently unconcerned about whether or not it was his business. “You should definitely bed him at the soonest opportunity. In fact, once we hit the next wide spot in the trail, I’ll happily turn my back and engage the other one in small talk.”

She swatted at him again, narrowly missing his nose. He dropped back a step. Marguerite concentrated on her footing. Occasionally she’d glance up to see Shane’s broad back, still reassuringly far ahead.

She wasn’t going to ask.

She wasn’t.