by Anne Bishop
The back door opened. Michael Debany eased around the boxes piled willy-nilly.
“You want me to break down the empty boxes?” Debany asked.
“Break down?”
“Slit them at the seams and flatten the cardboard.”
Simon pondered that for a moment. Did the Others have a use for flat cardboard? “No. We can use the boxes to ship the books we’re sending to other places.”
Debany lifted a handful of books out of the top box and handed them to Simon without marking the packing slip. It reminded him of Sam offering toys in an effort to engage an adult because he was unhappy about something. Since Simon didn’t know why Debany was unhappy, he placed the books together on a shelf instead of where they were supposed to go. He would mark the packing slip after the human went away.
“I heard from Bee. Barb. My sister?”
Wondering why that would make the man unhappy, Simon said, “Isn’t that good?”
“It is, yes. She’s settling in and busy.” Debany’s laugh sounded forced. “They gave her a horse. She’ll never come back.”
Simon stopped trying to work and studied the police officer. “Some young stay with their pack, but others have to leave their home territory to find a place in a new pack or to find a mate. Humans travel for those reasons too.”
“You found a place where she can do the kind of work she wanted to do. I appreciate it.”
“No, you don’t.”
This laugh sounded more natural. “I do, but I don’t.” Debany sighed. “It’s so far away now, you know? A couple of months ago, Bennett would have been just as far away, but Mom and Dad would have been talking about making a visit to see Barb’s new home. They would have sent an e-mail a couple of times a week to keep in touch and make sure she was doing okay. But now, they can’t call to say hello or receive a quick response that would reassure them. It’s different now.”
“Yes, it’s different now.” Debany was thinking about quick communication, but Simon was thinking about Joe Wolfgard, whose howl wouldn’t be heard again. “But you gave your sister labels and stamps, and Tolya and Jesse Walker gave her postcards and paper to write letters.” And knowing the girl’s connection to the Lakeside Courtyard, Tolya would keep an eye on her. Not sure if that would be a comfort, he didn’t mention it.
“Merri says if I want to receive letters, I’d better start writing letters.”
This he would mention. “Postcards are better unless you’re writing a long letter or it’s something private. There are Crows and Ravens helping to sort mail now in places like Bennett, and they like looking at the pictures and reading the messages.” Seeing the look on Debany’s face, he shrugged. “There’s more than one kind of shiny.”
A bump and a mutter had them looking toward the front of the stock room.
“Lieutenant,” Debany said.
“Michael.” Montgomery looked around at all the boxes. “Back orders?”
“Orders and back orders,” Simon replied. “And two more vans full of boxes coming in.”
“Guess I’ll get ready for work,” Debany said.
“This afternoon we’re finally signing the papers and handing over the money for the two apartment buildings. By tomorrow, Merri Lee can choose her den, and Eve Denby will help her clean it and paint it.” Since Montgomery was listening, Simon resisted the urge to ask about mating customs and if Debany would be moving into the den too. The sex part of mating and the living in the same den were different things for humans. He and Meg spent as much time living in the same place—and sleeping in the same bed—as Debany and Merri Lee, but Meg was still more like a maiden female who wasn’t ready for the sex part of mating.
But she was very good at play.
Shaking off those thoughts—and admitting he wanted to postpone giving Montgomery the message he’d been asked to deliver—he realized Debany had slipped out and now it was Montgomery who was handing him books.
The man looked older and weighed down by some hard truths.
“Miss Twyla nipped the pups this morning,” he offered.
Montgomery smiled at that. “My mama doesn’t take back talk from anyone. Lizzy should have known better.”
“She will the next time.”
“We always think there will be enough time, but that’s not always true, is it?”
Simon waited, but when Montgomery just held the books, he reached over and took them. “Sometimes a pack doesn’t catch meat in time to save all its members if they’ve been hungry for too long, but you’ll bring back food in time.” Wasn’t that the most important consideration right now? The farms that belonged to the terra indigene and were worked by Intuits in exchange for part of the bounty hadn’t suffered much from the storms and the Elders’ sweep through human places, and the Courtyard’s gardens had survived and were growing quickly during these warm, sunny days. While the Others could easily adapt to eating whatever the current season would provide, he and the rest of the Business Association were aware that humans weren’t used to thinking in those terms.
“The reports coming from Brittania and the west coast of Afrikah . . .” Montgomery reached for more books but didn’t pick up any. “Cel-Romano is really gone. All those cities, all those people. Millions of people dead. Whole cities turned into charnel houses. Whole cultures destroyed beyond recovery. No survivors.” The last words were barely a whisper.
“There are always survivors, Lieutenant,” Simon snapped. Didn’t mean there would be enough survivors for the species to continue, but he wasn’t going to share that with Montgomery. Not when he had a message to deliver.
“What will happen to the survivors?”
Wondering if the man was concerned about humans on the other side of the Atlantik or if he was thinking of something—or someone—else, Simon said, “They’ll get up in the morning and work in their fields, tend their animals, drive their carts to the marketplace in their village, gossip with their friends, take out a boat and bring back fish to eat and sell. There may be things that will be hard to buy, at least for a while, but the humans who kept their bargain with the terra indigene will get by. Even in Cel-Romano. And so will we. Your pup may not get all the treats she wants, and there will be some days when none of us have a completely full belly, but we’ll have enough.”
“In the Courtyard.”
Since Montgomery had stopped helping with the books, Simon retrieved the packing list and checked off the books in one box before he opened the next one.
“We’re not here to take care of you humans,” he said. “We never were. We’re here to take care of the world.” He set the packing slips aside. “Tell Captain Burke and Agent O’Sullivan that tomorrow morning the three of you will meet some of us at the consulate.”
“Why?”
A shiver went through Simon. “Because Ocean is coming to Lakeside, and she wants to talk to you.”
• • •
“Gods above and below,” O’Sullivan said. “Was Wolfgard serious?”
Standing in Burke’s office with the door closed, Monty wished he could deny it. “He’s serious.”
“The Great Lakes are the largest source of fresh water on the continent,” O’Sullivan continued. “What will happen to Etu and Tahki if the ocean flows in?”
“I imagine some . . . accommodation . . . has been made,” Burke said.
Like what? Monty thought. “What happened at your meeting with the mayor?”
Burke’s blue eyes were filled with sharp amusement.
“Governor Hannigan has requested that any public official who supported the HFL resign immediately so that human governments in the Northeast can try to reestablish a working relationship with the terra indigene,” O’Sullivan said. “He feels that the Others aren’t going to be sympathetic to any request humans make if they’re represented by a human they consider an enemy.”
“I agree with that,” Burke said. “When Mayor Rogers began to bluster, I felt obliged to remind him that, by being a member of the H
FL, he broke his promise to work with the terra indigene—a promise he made after the death of his predecessor, who also supported the Humans First and Last movement.”
“And I felt compelled to remind him that he was the acting mayor, not an elected official,” O’Sullivan said. “I encouraged him to resign before he was fired.”
“Or eaten,” Burke added.
“That seemed to be the incentive he needed to write his resignation then and there,” O’Sullivan continued. “So Captain Burke and I helped His Honor clear out his desk, and we made sure we had all the keys to the government building and the mayor’s office before we said good-bye.”
Monty stared at them. “What happens now? Do we have a government?”
Burke gave them one of his fierce-friendly smiles. “I’m in favor of asking Elliot Wolfgard to act as interim mayor until the fall elections or until the governor appoints another person as acting mayor. At least Elliot understands the workings of human government, being the consul for the Courtyard.”
“Do you really think he would argue on behalf of humans if what the citizens want or feel they need conflicts with what the Courtyard wants?” O’Sullivan asked.
Burke sighed. “No, I don’t. At least, not now. As I’ve said before, Simon Wolfgard is the most progressive terra indigene leader I’ve come across, and we need people who will work with him, now more than ever. Especially when you consider that, of the four places around here that have human inhabitants—Lakeside, Ferryman’s Landing, Talulah Falls, and that new community on River Road—Lakeside is the only one that is human controlled and has a government that answers to the regional governor and not to the terra indigene.”
O’Sullivan sat on the edge of Burke’s desk. “I’ll deny saying this, but Governor Hannigan thinks there may not be any human-controlled towns left between here and Hubb NE. And communication with Toland has been . . . erratic. A couple of the other ITF agents are driving down to assess the situation. A couple more are hoping for answers about the condition of the small towns that were around the Finger Lakes.”
Monty noticed the slight tremble in Burke’s hands—a reminder that even his captain’s previous experience with the Others didn’t always prepare him for the things happening now.
Burke said, “Before we start making plans for Lakeside, let’s go to that meeting tomorrow and find out if we even have a future.”
CHAPTER 56
Windsday, Sumor 18
Standing in the consulate’s meeting room, Monty heard seagulls and the surf before he caught the briny smell of the female who walked into the room, flanked by the Lakeside Elementals, Water and Air.
The shape was female, but she never would have passed for human. Her hair was kelp, and snails and small crabs moved about in it. Her body was fluid and blue-gray, covered by a gown that moved continuously, like waves coming to shore—and was the source of the sounds of surf and gulls.
He had taken Lizzy to the shore a few times to look for shells. He had found the Atlantik alluring, but he had never wanted to bet his life by going out on that water—and that was before he had learned there was something sentient that could command that water.
“Ocean,” Simon said. “Welcome to the Lakeside Courtyard.”
He’s not comfortable with her being here, Monty thought, watching the Wolf struggle to maintain a sufficiently non-furry human shape. Or maybe he doesn’t want to look human in the presence of such a dangerous form of terra indigene.
“The Sharkgard, Orcasgard, and I have enjoyed the stories that have flowed from this place in recent times,” Ocean said. Although quiet, the voice held depth and the memory of the storms just past.
Simon’s ears suddenly shifted to Wolf, and he made a frustrated sound as he struggled to get his ears back to human shape.
She smiled at Simon, and the sound in the room became the soft murmur of gentle waves kissing sand. Then she looked at the three humans, and the smile faded and the sound of storm surge returned.
Stepping up to the table, Vlad unfolded a large map. “As you requested. I hope it’s adequate.”
Ocean nodded but she continued to look at the three men standing tensely on the other side of the table.
“This I command,” she said. “No ship that sails from Thaisia will touch Cel-Romano. That place is closed to the humans here. Defy me, and no ship from this land will survive me.”
Captain Burke quietly cleared his throat. “What about other places? Brittania, for example.”
Ocean turned her attention to Simon. “Wolf?”
“Captain Burke’s kin from Brittania helped us when we asked,” Simon replied. “We have no quarrel with the humans who live there.”
“Then I will permit ships to sail between Thaisia and Brittania. And Felidae and Afrikah since they did not spawn enemies of our land kin.”
“What about Tokhar-Chin?” Monty asked, wondering if a Wolf would be considered “land kin” to something like her.
“It does not touch my domain. You would have to ask the guardian of the Pacifik about that place,” she replied.
Had he really wanted confirmation that there was more than one of these creatures? Well, now they all knew.
Ocean studied the map of Namid, paying particular attention to her own domain. She brushed a finger over the Fingerbone Islands, leaving a wet line on the paper. “My home. The place where I keep the treasures that the water, the Sharkgard, and the Orcasgard retrieve for my pleasure. I have many things. Old things. Old maps. I enjoy looking at the way you humans think I have changed. I am not the one who changed.” Her smile was savage and primal and terrifying.
“On the old maps, you used to put the words ‘Here Be Monsters.’” Her finger traced a wet curve in front of the strait that provided entrance to the Mediterran Sea. She looked at Burke and O’Sullivan, and the punch of that look made Monty feel weak, even though it wasn’t directed at him. She bared teeth that might have been made of coral. “You should put those words on the maps again.”
She walked out of the room, followed by Air and Water.
Monty braced a hand on a chair.
“So,” O’Sullivan said. “No trade with Cel-Romano. I’m not sure how we’ll enforce that.”
“You won’t have to,” Simon said, touching his ears as if to reassure himself that they had returned to human shape.
“But if Thaisian ships disobey that command, Ocean will destroy all the ships sailing from this land, and that would include fishing vessels,” Vlad said. “Can your people afford to lose the food that comes from the sea?”
“We’ll spread the word,” Burke said after a tense silence.
Simon nodded. “We’ll let the terra indigene know as well.”
As they left the consulate, Monty realized that he’d stopped thinking of Simon Wolfgard as a predator. Faced with the truth of what else was out there, the Courtyard’s residents didn’t seem like much of a threat anymore.
He opened the back door of Burke’s sedan but didn’t get in. “Here be monsters. Do you think she was referring to the terra indigene or to humans?”
Burke looked at him over the roof of the car. “At this point, Lieutenant, does it really matter?”
CHAPTER 57
Thaisday, Sumor 19
Meg wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at the three-ring binder that held the names and contact information for Intuit companies. But when she became aware of the sorting room again, she was startled to see Twyla Montgomery standing on the other side of the table.
“Miss Twyla. What . . . ?”
“Didn’t want to disturb you while your mind was wandering,” Twyla said gently.
“Arroo?” The click of nails on the floor in the front room as Nathan hustled to find out what was going on in the sorting room.
“It’s all right,” Meg said, looking at the watch Wolf, who had his front legs braced on the counter.
“I know this is an off-limits place,” Twyla began.
“For the childre
n,” Meg said hurriedly.
“You got reasons for your rules, and those reasons should be respected.” Seeing Meg’s scars, Twyla’s dark eyes held neither pity nor discomfort. “But I believe in earning my keep. The folks running the Courtyard are looking at what skills are available to them, and they’ll sort out the work as soon as they can. In the meantime, I can help with the dusting and mopping if that would be of use to you. I noticed the back room could use a bit of shine. And there’s bound to be plenty of loose hairs coating the floor in that front room.” She winked at Meg.
Nathan growled and went back to his Wolf bed.
“Thank you,” Meg said. “I haven’t kept up with cleaning.”
“Mind if I ask what you’re doing?”
“This binder holds the names of companies owned or run by the Intuits. I’m supposed to order as much as I can from them from now on so that the people in Lakeside can’t complain that we’re taking rationed goods away from them. And I have lists of things people would like to buy in the Market Square grocery store. But some things . . . People have listed a dozen different kinds of cereal, and I don’t know how to choose.”
“How many kinds of cereal does that store have now?”
“I’m not sure. The Others eat a lot more meat than cereal.”
Moving slowly, Twyla eased around the table until she stood beside Meg and could look at the lists.
“Which of these do you think something like himself would eat?” Twyla tipped her head to indicate Nathan. “Or those Crows?”
“Sierra gave me this list of cereals the children would want. . . .”
Twyla shook her head. “Children will pester and pester for something until you buy it, and then they won’t want it anymore. Don’t you be thinking about that. You just think about what’s useful to the most residents.” She tapped a list. “Oatmeal is a winter cereal that can be fancied up with berries and nuts and a bit of sweetening. If you can get them, order a cereal made from corn and another made of oats—things you can eat by the handful if you need something quick. Those who want something different can buy it at another store or do without.”
