Sky Coyote (Company)

by Kage Baker

  What did this mean? How far back in my file had he read? It can’t have been easy to interpret my expression through all the appliance makeup, but he was managing. He smiled reassuringly.

  “You’ve made some difficult choices, in your time, but you always chose correctly. That business with the old Enforcers, for example.”

  Yikes.

  I let myself look sad and shook my head. “Poor old guys. But, you know what they lacked? That same quality you were just talking about. Detachment. They were damned good at their jobs, but it made them a bunch of loose cannons in the end. I was really relieved to hear they’d been retrained before they could do themselves more harm.”

  His stare was like an icepick, but he wasn’t going to pry anything else out of me. Not on this subject. He seemed to accept this and went on convivially:

  “Your feelings do you credit, especially since they’re tempered by wisdom. You know what I admire in you? Your ability to trust.” I almost grinned, but he held up his hand and went on: “You’ve been able to understand that this operation—by which I mean the whole thing, from its beginning, before either of us was created—couldn’t have been conceived, planned, or carried out by people who didn’t know exactly what they were doing. You have never, for one moment during your very long career, questioned the authority over you. Not because you’re a drone or a toady, either. You have always understood that, whoever might be running things, their plan was sound.”

  “Like I said.” I lapped up some sherry to break the mood.

  Then he truly surprised me.

  “You know what you have to keep in mind, Joseph? They’re children, the mortals. No more than children. Life is so simple in that bright future of theirs, they’ve never had to trouble themselves to learn how to do more than play. For some of them it’s very, very creative play, mind you, but … it has a certain uncomplicated quality, shall we say. Because, like children, they’re bored by complicated things. More than bored: they feel threatened. Give a child mashed potatoes and butter, and he’s happy. He doesn’t want to try the rich sauce with capers, in fact he’ll cry if he’s forced to taste it. You see what I mean?

  “But, listen, Joseph. A child is easy to control. Keep him happy, and he’ll believe what he’s told to believe. The mortals believe that they’re running the Company, that they make the decisions, that they have the ideas. The child believes the world revolves around himself. Nursie knows better, but of course she doesn’t tell him so.

  “Though,” he added thoughtfully, “he will learn the truth, someday.”

  What was I to make of this? I took a gulp of wine and looked askance at him. He might be letting me in on some genuine secret politics, but on the other hand he might be baiting a trap for a seditious renegade.

  Well, he was sounding out the wrong man. I’ve worked for the Spanish Inquisition, and this is one game where I know the rules, thank you very much.

  I shook my furry head. “I’m afraid this is all too deep for me. I’m just an old field agent, and maybe I’m a little out of touch with the way my betters are running things these days. But, you know, I’ve always felt we operatives shouldn’t trouble ourselves with that end of the business. If you tell me that whoever’s in charge knows what’s best for Dr. Zeus, why, that’s good enough for me, and I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You’re an honest fellow, Joseph,” purred Lopez. “You touch my heart. Another glass of amontillado?”

  “Have some greens, Sky Coyote.” Nutku passed me the dish. It was full of wild onions and miner’s lettuce. The greens had been steamed limp and were getting limper in the stifling air of the sauna.

  “Thanks.” I helped myself, and he leaned back with a grimace.

  “My personal shaman says they’re good for me, but what does he know? It’s my spirit I pay him to take care of, and at pretty damned exorbitant rates at that. What I say is, after working my butt off to get where I am, it’d be a fine thing if I couldn’t eat steak when I wanted to.”

  “You’ve got a point,” I agreed.

  “Let’s have a little more mist, shall we?” Kaxiwalic poured some more water on the hot stones. They hissed and sent up dense clouds, making it harder to see in the already blurry air. Not that my eyes gave me any problems, but I was praying that the fancy circuitry in my prostheses wouldn’t be affected by all the damp heat.

  “Now thaaat’s more like it,” Kupiuc groaned, easing his big body backward. Even here he’d brought his charmstone with him, a small polished artifact he had the nervous habit of rolling between his fingers. “What a day I had. What a day. My ex-wife is after me for child support again.”

  “No kidding?”

  “The she-whale. She wants me to get all three boys into the kantap down there at Syuxtun. She’s obsessed with status. What I say is, let the kids be fishermen or something. At least they won’t have to put up with job stress the way their old man does. Anyway, she’s wasting her time on the youngest one. He’s a lousy little hoodlum; I had to beat him when he was up here last summer. Caught him stealing! It’s a shame when you have to say it about your own flesh and blood, always assuming he is, of course, but the kid’s just no good.”

  This met with frowns from his fellow sweat-lodge members.

  “Huh.” Nutku cleared his throat. “Kantap’s a good start in life for a boy, though, you know. It might turn him around. He’d be running with the right crowd, too, not a bunch of losers like hunters. The kantap made you what you are, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, well, of course,” Kupiuc hastened to say. “Don’t get me wrong. But I’m not made of money, am I?” His charmstone was describing ever faster and tighter circles in his palm.

  “Just don’t put the kantap down,” growled Sawlawlan, and went into a coughing fit that lasted two whole minutes. I scanned him idly. Twenty years of carving steatite had left his lungs lined with talc. He had hemorrhoids, too. Rich as he was, he must have been miserable most of the time.

  “You’ve got to have a word with the boys up at Skaxpilil, by the way.” Nutku splashed a little water in Kupiuc’s direction. “It looks as though they’ve been letting redwood consignments through again. I think they’re stockpiling. Might be time for a little Miwok lightning.”

  “Stockpiling?” I inquired.

  “We’ve got an agreement with the towns up north, Sky Coyote. Don’t You do this kind of thing in the Upper World? They hold back on their redwood export, and we can keep the price of redwood canoes nice and high.”

  “That’s pretty clever!” I said ingenuously. “Of course, wouldn’t that mean most people can’t afford them?”

  “Right, so they buy pine. Which means they have to get a new one every sixteen moons. Either way, big profits.” Nutku looked hard at Kupiuc. “So any bastard planning to flood the market with cheap redwood had better have his inventory torched before he gets the chance. Understand?”

  “Nutku, I’ve got it under control. Trust me.” Flip, flip, flip went the charmstone.

  “We may not be the dealers You guys are in the Upper World, but we know a few tricks, huh?” Nutku grinned at me. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “So, what about a little straight talk on this white men thing, Sky Coyote?”

  “Straight talk?” I looked as innocent as I could. It’s not easy with pointed ears and fangs.

  “Come on, Sky Coyote, You can level with us. The metaphors are okay for the little people, but we’re community leaders. We know how the game’s really played. These white men, is that some kind of code phrase for the Chinigchinix crazies down south? You can’t mean there’s an invasion planned? Why should they invade us? They need us. They can’t produce any trade goods worth mentioning.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” I told him. “But, no. The white men are somebody else entirely, and they really are going to invade you. In fact, their advance forces have already been scouting your coast. You know those funny-looking canoes that landed at Syuxtun? The strangers you sold all those basket
s to?” I leaned back lazily and smiled at Kaxiwalic.

  As my words sank in, he froze in the act of pouring more water on the rocks.

  “What?”

  “Remember those fancy new patterns you had designed for souvenirs? Those people, remember? Didn’t they look just the teensiest bit, oh, white to you?”

  “Actually some of them were black—but—” His mouth hung open.

  “So they’re real?” Nutku looked grim. “Well, so what? They’re only men like we are, then. They want to invade us? We’ll see about that. Our war parties can kick ass like nobody’s business.”

  “What’s it going to take to get through to you guys?” I barked. “This is not just an invasion. This is a cosmic matter. There are Big Players in this game. The white men and the Chumash are just pawns.”

  Kupiuc stared. “So there really is a World Above.”

  “Do I look like I’ve come from the next village over? Of course there’s a World Above. Look, I’ll level with you. You all understand, I’m sure, that there are times when you have to let out information in a strictly controlled way. You’re not lying, exactly. Just telling the truth strategically. You all follow me?”

  They nodded tensely.

  “All right, so we’ve been a little vague with you about Life Up There. It isn’t all that different from life down here, if you want the truth. It’s a power struggle. You have to play the game to win. You guys would understand that.

  “Now, your lives are a commodity to us, like any other commodity. Some of us have vested interests in you. Others are more interested in controlling the rate of flow.” I made my eyes mean and small. I canted the tips of my ears forward. “With you guys it’s shell money. With us it’s human lives. My stock goes up when there are a lot of you running around. But the other party—and you can go on calling Him the Sun—does good business when lots of you die off.

  “So I’ve had inside information on a move He’s planning, this white-men business. If I can pull my capital—all of you, I mean—in time, I can protect most of it and transfer to a long-term investment. He’ll flood the market with His invading force, and I’ll take a loss, but I won’t be wiped out. See? Then He’ll have wasted a lot of His resources. I can pull back, draw on my reserves, and hit Him in the next game, and He’ll be at a disadvantage because He won’t know about my secret strategy this time around. And that’s how the game is played by the Big Boys, nephews.” Whew.

  They sat there in shock a minute or two. At last Sawlawlan moved uneasily on his rock and said, “Well, I never thought the universe worked quite like that … But, you know, now that I think about it, it’s sort of comforting. I mean, this is a system I understand, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” said Nutku.

  “And it’s not like we were unimportant or anything,” ventured Kaxiwalic. “We’re vital parts of the big plan, aren’t we?”

  “Sure you are.”

  “Hell, yes, we must be, or Sky Coyote wouldn’t be here! Right, Coyote?” Kupiuc looked narrow-eyed and astute. “The good-and-evil stuff is just a front. It’s business up there just like it’s business down here.” He squeezed his charmstone tight.

  “And you smart boys figured it out instinctively.” I smiled with all my sharp and pointed teeth. “The priests are all chasing moonbeams, but leave it to the real leaders to understand the truth.” They all basked in that for a moment, then Nutku cleared his throat again.

  “So, um, Sky Coyote … what about our investments?”

  “I knew you were coming to that.”

  “Kaxiwalic mentioned something about losing our markets … ?”

  “I won’t lie to you. Sure, you’ll take a loss—but not the way everybody else will. So, where does that put you? Ahead of the game, right? Which will make you insiders when we get to where we’re going. And, Kaxiwalic, chum: don’t get too worried about our little conversation the other day. I mean, one of your producers was standing right there! Do you think I’d let one of them in on this?”

  That lightened up a couple of faces, and I rushed on. “Plus—and listen up, this is a big plus—think of the aggravation you’re leaving behind! Ex-wives. Fanatic cultist trading partners. Redwood overstock. Okay? And as for all your existing inventory, hey, all I can say is, sell out now. How, you ask, it’s winter! Sea’s too rough to go on the trade routes. Land’s a mess with mud, and there’s hungry bears and mountain lions on the trails. Well, I can bring in buyers who’ll take it all off your hands! And at retail prices, too! Canoes, bowls, baskets, the whole works, AT RETAIL! You can liquidate all your assets, and when we get to the new place, you’ll be the ones with the capital to get the ball rolling in the new game. And believe me, boys, it’ll be a new game. There are easier ways to make a living than chipping stone bowls. Can you trust your Uncle Sky Coyote?”

  Nutku clenched his fists. “You guarantee you can unload my inventory before we go?”

  “I said retail, didn’t I?” I replied cheerfully, leaning forward to slosh some hot water on the stones and cloud the issue. I didn’t know where Beckman, our art curator, was going to get all that shell money, but that wasn’t my department.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AS IT TURNED OUT, ALL this had been foreseen, and Beckman had enough cash with him to buy a couple of museums, let alone a luxury canoe. If he’d worn all his money, he couldn’t have stood upright, of course. Instead, he stood unburdened in one discreet but high-denomination strand of shells, a deerskin jockstrap, and green body paint, with the rest of the loot carried in satchels by a couple of burly techs.

  They waited patiently with the rest of the salvage team in the icy breeze coming off the Pacific. I could see them waiting as I hopped out of my knee breeches. Actually, some of them weren’t waiting so patiently.

  “And here he comes! The star player! Yaay!” I went sprinting out to them. Fourteen freezing specialists and thirty security techs glared at me, and nobody cheered. With the goose pimples, green paint, and skimpy Chumash costumes, they looked like a bunch of avocados in a diorama.

  “Does it get any warmer away from this goddam beach?” Mendoza wanted to know.

  “Sure it does. This is California,” I told her. “Now, every body, probably we won’t encounter any locals until we reach the village. I never give them any clear idea of when I’m going to visit them, so I don’t think they’ll shoot at you or anything, but let me go first and do all the talking. Everyone accessed their language files last night, riiiight?”

  “Riiiight,” they echoed in sour unison.

  “Heads up, everybody, here comes Bugleg,” hissed MacCool.

  Yes, here came our fearless leader, out to review the troops, shepherded by his faithful dog or puppet master, whichever view of Lopez one preferred. They emerged from the base, and Bugleg stood there blinking rapidly in the wind. I don’t think he got outdoors much.

  I saluted briskly. “Hello, Mr. Bugleg. Any words of inspiration for us before we hit the beach?”

  “What did you say?” He looked bewildered. “This is the beach. I thought you were going to the native huts.”

  “Figure of speech, sir. Beach, front lines, salt mines, trenches. Engaging the enemy. Going off into the wild blue yonder. Beginning the beguine. Setting off on our mission.” Damn it, Joseph! broadcast Lopez, and I gave him a coyote grin and responded, Sorry, I’ve really gotten into my role. Bugleg’s face meanwhile was desperate as he dodged my metaphors and caught the only phrase he understood.

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh. I hope it goes all right. Okay? Be careful, everybody.”

  It was a wonder the massed wave of scorn projected at him through the ether didn’t knock him off his feet, to say nothing of the silently transmitted raspberries. Careful? Mortal man, we’re immortals! We tread water through the Great Flood! Ashur over there got out of Pompeii a month before things got hot, sold his house at a profit too: he could hear the mountain grumbling in its heart. Imarte can smell a Turk coming a mile away, was well clear of Byzantium befor
e the fall. I saw the writing on the wall myself, at Tyre: never mind what it said, but I left on a fast horse the same day. Beckman’s never booked passage for a shipwreck, or stood on a wobbly scaffold. Careful? Mortal, you don’t know what careful is.

  Though of course nobody looked scornful, because that would have been rude. Instead everyone said out loud, “Thank you, Mr. Bugleg,” in a quiet and nonthreatening way. He turned to me and complained, “They’re all green. Why?”

  “Local folklore, sir, remember? They’re supposed to be supernatural beings.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. I think he comprehended, even though supernatural is five whole syllables long. “And everybody is going in just like we planned?”

  “Right. We have a zoologist, an art curator, a botanist, a marine biologist, a geologist, a primary cultural anthropologist, a primary physical anthropologist, and six class-two anthropologists to work in teams with the other specialists.”

  “But what if the natives shoot at them?”

  “Well, sir, that’s what the security techs are for, isn’t it? And they’ll also help us transport artifacts.” Bugleg blanked on that one. “You know, the things the Indians make. Beads and stuff? Souvenirs?”

  “All right.” He shivered. “You better get started. I don’t like it out here. Too cold.”

  “Yes, sir, it’s very cold.”

  “I’m going inside.” He turned and left.

  We set off, up the long canyon. Behind us there was a mortal face at every window.

  “Symbolic, isn’t it?” Beside me, Mendoza settled her pack.

  “What?”

  “Mortals behind us, mortals ahead of us. We’re always in the middle, trudging up some blind canyon with our collecting gear, bare-ass naked.”

  “You’re not bare-ass naked; you’re in colorful local costume,” I reproved. “I bet you’re wishing you had your Madrid fashions on now, huh?”

  “And how,” muttered a dozen immortals.

  But their spirits rose as we got inland, away from the wind. The sky was blue, the sun was warm, and nobody was shooting at us: basic elemental pleasures like that. More, though: we were finally away from all the bureaucratic crap and going out where we could do some work at last. We were on the job again. It produces a sense of euphoria in us. We were designed that way.