“Who is Anze?” General Dabiri interrupted.
Jesse stood.
Bataar waited for him, and our mayor’s silence gave Memphis’s human mayor permission to speak.
“Anze is the master of the seethe of Memphis. As you must know as you had those lost souls kill themselves on Anze’s doorstep. Children saw those bodies, Mr. General.” The title Jesse gave Dabiri issued from his mouth like an insult.
“Children have seen worse, experienced worse, since the Faerene arrived,” Dabiri returned.
“And before then.” Jesse turned his back on the militia. “Mayor Bataar, thank you for inviting me to this meeting to represent the people of Memphis, human and Faerene.”
Colonel Smith’s gaze finally left me. He frowned at Jesse.
The mayor of Memphis pushed back his jacket to rest his hands on narrow hips. His forceful personality showed in every line of his body. “I am relieved you included us,” he said to Bataar, and he looked past the centaur to nod at Sabinka, the deputy mayor, as well. “I’d hate for us to be judged by these fools.”
“What do you find objectionable about the militia?” Sabinka asked.
I wondered how much of this meeting had been planned, even scripted, since the Memphis deputation’s arrival last night.
Dabiri objected. “How is this man’s opinion of us relevant?”
“For two reasons,” Sabinka responded smoothly, so smoothly that the general’s eyes narrowed. It was as if she’d hoped for his objection. “The first is that we are interested in a human perspective on your actions.”
“Despicable,” Tanisha said.
Sabinka nodded fractionally. “The second reason is that as part of these negotiations we wish to learn if Jesse believes that the people he represents would trade with you.”
Jesse’s nephew scowled at Dabiri and his men. “The militia would try to force us. They’ve used violence in other places.”
“To defend what is ours and those who look to us for protection,” Colonel Smith said. He was as smooth as Sabinka. The two of them locked eyes. As much as Sabinka enjoyed male company there was nothing flirtatious in her expression. As for Smith, he probably found her tree-bark-patterned skin disconcerting. His gaze returned to me. “Humans must stand together.”
“Huh. Not on your terms,” Jesse said. “To answer your question, Sabinka, there are a few things I find objectionable about the militia, although I would swallow my dislike to allow Memphis to trade with them. They control the caravans that bring goods across country. We have the river trade, but…” He opened his hands and shrugged. “More options are always good.”
“Many paths to resilience,” Tanisha observed.
A number of Faerene in the audience murmured agreement.
Jesse spoke over them. “I cannot speak for the militia’s objectives nor their moral values. For myself, I object to their control of the drug trade.”
I jolted Callum’s elbow accidentally and his pencil slid across the page. It seemed that mention of the drug trade had caught his attention, too. It was the first time he’d put pencil to paper at the meeting.
Jesse scowled at Dabiri. “And by drug trade, I mean alcohol, tobacco and marijuana. Although give them credit for ambition. I’ve heard that they’re planning on growing opium poppies next season.”
“Legal drugs, regulated drugs, for pain relief and anxiety modification are lost to us,” Dabiri said. “People self-medicate.”
Jesse made a strangling motion before his hands went back to his hips. “Drugs and corruption go together. You’ve justified the trade to yourselves. People need oblivion. They’d seek out alcohol, etc. anyway. The trade lets you fund your other activities. Perhaps most of all, it earns you popular support. People obey their drug pusher.”
The face of the man to Dabiri’s left grew redder and redder with outrage. Military discipline held, however. He didn’t interrupt Jesse.
“I’ve lost too many people to addiction pre-apocalypse to ever forgive the drug trade.” Jesse’s gaze dwelt on his nephew. Presumably some of whom he’d lost had been their family. “However, while the people of Memphis want alcohol, tobacco or whatever, your caravans will continue to be welcome. But no more violence, and that includes sending in people to kill themselves. Do that again and we close our town to you—and on that I have the town’s agreement.”
Jesse took a deep breath, his arms falling loosely to his sides. “My other objection to the militia is their anti-Faerene stance.”
Dabiri interjected. “If that were true, we wouldn’t be standing here. We want to trade with the Faerene.”
Jesse challenged him instantly. “Do you? Or do you want them to crawl to you and apologize that the old world, the one in which you had so much power, is gone?”
“A few minutes ago you accused me of possessing the power of the drug trade.”
Jesse shook his head. “I’m a civilian. Heaven help me, I was an auctioneer a year ago.” That explained why he had no trouble making himself heard throughout the hall. “Out here in the civilian world, all we got was the warnings on television that the apocalypse was coming. We didn’t get your analysis and briefings or the resources of the military. But we’re our own brand of smart. We welcomed Anze’s seethe to Memphis. We had a chance to build an alliance and we took it.”
The red-faced man’s self-control snapped. “So you’ll feed them? Be their cattle?”
Jesse’s nephew rocked forward on his chair, but a glance from his uncle silenced his impulsive response.
“I was a blood donor pre-apocalypse,” Jesse said. “And I’ll be a blood donor now to save people’s lives. Anze doesn’t need us. He could have set up his seethe in a Faerene town. He still could.”
Jesse was right. If Memphis became untenable for the vampires, they could relocate to somewhere like the Faerene town of Atlanta which sat, concealed by glamour spells, within the human city of Atlanta. The vampires could drink from humans without the humans ever knowing.
“What do they trade you for your blood?” Colonel Smith asked.
Tanisha fixed him with a piercing glare. “You should have asked that earlier, before you committed that atrocity in our town. Having those poor souls kill themselves as a political statement was vile.” She adjusted a fold of her sari. “The vampires give us health in return for our blood. There is no pleasure in the bite, but there is healing. Next summer, when the fever epidemics run, Memphis will be safe.”
The satisfaction in her voice came through so strongly that it approximated triumph.
Having fought the fevers this summer and lost too many people to them in Apfall Hill, I understood her attitude. As a healer, you’d give your right arm, let alone a small amount of blood, to keep people safe.
“So that’s your price,” Dabiri said softly. “That’s why you’re the Faerene’s puppets.”
“You are dumb.” At least Jesse’s nephew refrained from swearing. That likely had more to do with respecting his avid Faerene audience than the militia. “You see enemies. We see friends. Or we hope we do. You just hate that you’re not the biggest bad anymore.”
Jesse squeezed his nephew’s shoulder. “Mayor Bataar, Deputy Mayor Sabinka, I can’t negotiate for the other people in the region or in America, but I’m here—we’re here—because we want to stay in contact with the Faerene. We don’t want Anze and his seethe to move. No one should be driven out of the home they have chosen. In balance to the militia’s actions, we want you to know that there are plenty of humans with goodwill to the Faerene.”
Bataar stamped a hoof. “Thank you, Mayor Jesse.”
Jesse sat.
Tanisha patted his knee.
“General Dabiri,” Bataar began. “I have some sympathy for you and for the people who form your militia. Piros, whom you know as the Red Drake, explained to me the military mindset. To you, we are invaders. That I comprehend. We came through the Rift from Elysium. However, you would do well to remember that we did so to save the Earth fro
m the Kstvm, and that we cannot return. This world is our home and our children’s home.
“When we did what we had to in order to seal the Rift, your nation fell apart. It could not hold together against the pressures of the apocalypse and the loss of centuries of technological development. From your perspective, the Faerene won the war against you. From our perspective, we fought the Kstvm, not you.” Bataar leaned forward, his four legs braced. “There was no war.”
He waited a beat of silence. “And without a war, there can be no victor. Piros explained that you view us as victors who refuse to govern. He had to repeat himself several times. I couldn’t grasp that you wanted us—whom you perceive as the enemy to the extent of sacrificing people to make a statement—to rule you. But that’s the narrative Piros says you want. Conquest and rebellion.”
General Dabiri stood at attention, shoulders braced, expression furious. “That is incorrect.”
Although usually more fiery than Bataar, Sabinka intervened quietly. “You cannot rebel against us because we refuse to act against you. You trained for years on counterinsurgency tactics, and now you want to turn and use insurgency tactics against us. But when we don’t engage with you, you’re left with nothing. No focus for your despair and rage. But you do envy us. You want the abilities we have to communicate and travel long distance.”
“And to heal and defend ourselves,” Smith said.
Sabinka rested a hand on Bataar’s back. “Have you considered that when we came through the Rift, the Rift that your relentless drive for linear progress created by drilling through the Earth’s protective shield, that we could have eliminated or enslaved humanity?”
Red-faced man spoke up. “We’re still waiting for you to do so.”
Dabiri and Smith scowled at him.
He glared back. “Unless you plan to turn us all into sycophants like them.” He nodded at Jesse and the others.
Sabinka sighed. “They are their own people. Unlike you. You will lose yourself to hatred,” she warned sadly.
He swore—at her.
The audience muttered. The goblin ranger at the main door took a step forward. So did Niamh.
Callum stretched out lazily. He whispered to me. “Back on Elysium, there was a group who monitored Earth and called it Arcadia. The Faerene would never countenance genocide, but this group discussed ‘hypothetically’ how idyllic Earth would be if humans died in the sealing of the Rift.”
I turned my head slowly to stare at him. We were close enough that I could see the striations of green in his hazel irises. “Why tell me that?”
“We don’t need humans. Humans can’t negotiate on level ground with us until they accept that they don’t need us. Dependency is damaging.”
I’d heard that before, from Istvan and others. The Faerene had experience with migrations. They lived in fear of fostering dependency in indigenous sentient peoples they encountered on other worlds. As a result, they’d be harsh in the short term to ensure humanity’s long term wellbeing. But mention of genocide went beyond that.
Sabinka had used a gentler term. “Elimination.”
This town hall meeting might be less about negotiating with the militia than about setting ground rules. No Faerene would consciously allow a human community to grow dependent on them. Anze and the other vampires of his seethe were funding the construction of a hospital that could operate in current conditions. It wouldn’t be as effective as in our previous world of electricity and antibiotics, but it would be an alternative to dependency on the vampires for health.
Emil, a night clerk at the magistrate hall, was one of Anze’s vampires, and had outlined their plans for recruiting and training medical staff.
As an apothecary, Sabinka would provide part of that training. She would be visiting Memphis. “You have to be strong in who you are before you can support the psychological burden of dealing with us.”
Dabiri pointed at Jesse. “Are you saying that he’s stronger than us?”
“I don’t know,” Sabinka said. Her chin came up, her body language changing from sadness to her customary combativeness. “But they didn’t tantrum for attention by throwing people out to kill themselves.”
Dabiri took the insult, unmoved.
Smith, however, flinched. It was a fractional movement, a minor ducking of his head.
I wasn’t the only one who caught it.
Beside me, Callum tapped the notebook balanced on his knee. He’d filled a third of the page. He glanced across at Niamh, who’d resumed her place at the side door.
She braced at attention. Her frown of concentration was familiar from a hundred shared tasks at the farm. Whatever Niamh did, she committed herself to it fully. Now, she was committed to her uniform. She would protect Justice and its citizens from themselves and from intolerant humans.
“Niamh looks good in uniform,” Callum whispered. “Others have noticed.”
I scanned the crowd. No one seemed particularly interested in her.
Belated realization hit me. That was his point. The Faerene of Justice saw and respected a police officer in uniform, not a human standing among them. The nearest audience members had even turned their backs to her, trusting her.
Niamh didn’t look “good” as in attractive. She looked right; exactly who she was and where she should be.
The insight gave me a new appreciation for Callum. No wonder he could be a lone wolf. He had a vocation; a duty, as he saw it, to the truth. He searched it out. His newspaper was read far beyond Justice, probably as far as Elysium via the Faerene technology of world-viewers. What Callum hid was his kindness. He hadn’t chosen to sit by me out of curiosity regarding my reaction to the meeting. Sitting near me, whispering his comments, he was nudging me toward understanding something that was important to him.
He guarded the truth. No, he forged it. Just as Bataar worked metal in his smithy, Callum transformed information into knowledge in his newspaper office.
The truth was how you built a solid bridge from where you were to where you hoped to be.
I hadn’t forgotten the project I’d committed to a few weeks ago. I intended to write a book on the Faerene on Earth in the early years of the Migration. This Is The Faerene would be an introductory text for humanity to understand the peoples they now shared Earth with. For the Faerene it would be a chance to see themselves through someone else’s eyes.
But I’d been distracted and research for the book had been pushed aside by other matters. Happily, by my marriage to Rory. Less happily by events in Atlanta, and now, with the militia.
Except…
Callum’s relaxed slouch was its own message. He was a citizen of Justice, just like me. But he didn’t carry the weight of these negotiations on his shoulders. They were Bataar and Sabinka’s burden, and the enforcement of the decision a responsibility for our police force and rangers. Callum’s role was to report the truth.
So was mine. This meeting was pivotal. Istvan had said it. Negotiations with humans regarding trade with Justice would set a precedent.
And critical meetings revealed aspects of the truth of people, stress-testing them.
I should be noting how the Faerene behaved and what the meeting revealed of them.
People changed. Stories changed. History could be rewritten to serve new purposes. But here and now, I could provide a firsthand report of events.
Callum and I were colleagues.
I bumped his shoulder with mine.
“Here is what we offer,” Bataar said. “The Rift is sealed. The apocalypse is over. The dead will not vanish anymore. Humanity is recovering. You won’t return your society to what it once was, but you can build a good life. We would like to give you the chance to build that life with awareness of our existence, rather than us fading into legend for generations of humans.”
The militia didn’t know it, but that had been the Faerene Migration plan. Generations of humanity were to pass before the Faerene engaged with us. The emergence of magic in a few humans like me h
ad altered those plans. And the vampire seethes had always stood outside of them.
Bataar readjusted his mayoral hat with its gold braid. “Justice will not receive humans via land. We will lay enchantments to maze you away. Nor will we receive humans via the river, unless the boat travels to us from Memphis. This is our offer, but it has a high cost for Memphis, one which you may not want to pay.”
By the wary manner in which Jesse stood, this part of the meeting hadn’t been scripted—if any of it had. Maybe I was overly suspicious.
Bataar continued resolutely. “Having a trade connection with us in Justice will make Memphis the sole human community in the North American Territory to have negotiated and formalized contact with the Faerene. This will draw humans to you. Some to try and profit. Some out of curiosity. Some from envy. Some for strange reasons. Human cults have sprung up around false stories about us. Memphis may be attacked, perhaps by the militia.” He gestured at them.
“No,” Dabiri said.
Jesse’s dark gaze travelled between the four militiamen, Bataar, and Sabinka, then around the crowded hall, coming to rest on his nephew. Hands closing into fists, Jesse stared straightly at Bataar. “If Memphis is attacked, you won’t defend us.”
“Correct.”
“What about Anze?”
Perhaps Sabinka willfully misinterpreted Jesse’s question. “Anze can protect himself. As can his seethe.” But then she answered his real concern. “They won’t protect you. And if violence against their seethe drives them out, they will abandon the hospital they are building and which they’d staff to train you.”
Her tone didn’t gentle at all as she re-emphasized the risks of trade with Justice. “The threats you face go beyond violence. Prosperity attracts people. Your town might grow faster than you can cope with, and those who come may be more beggars than workers. There is a reason we’re reluctant to open our town to humans.”
Jesse nodded. “But Memphis is human. We won’t turn anyone away.”
First Magic Page 15
