Murder of Crows

CHAPTER 13

“I appreciate the invitation,” Burke said after Simon Wolfgard had been driving north on River Road for several minutes. “It wasn’t necessary to have me come along for this meeting.”

Simon glanced in the rearview mirror, then fixed his eyes on the road. “You planning to visit your friend’s pup if he settles on Great Island?”

“I’d like to, yes.”

“Then your coming along is necessary.”

Monty glanced at Burke. Nothing showed in the other man’s face, but the tension in the vehicle increased a little more. Burke took a proprietary interest in what happened in Lakeside and knew whom to call when he needed information about his city or the human places nearby. But he’d drawn a blank when he tried to find out more about Ferryman’s Landing than they’d been told at last week’s meeting with Simon Wolfgard.

The Simple Life community was the only acknowledged group of humans on Great Island. Yes, there were some humans who ran a few stores and the island’s ferry, but their village, such as it was, wasn’t under human control. Like the rest of the island, it belonged to the terra indigene. Population, unknown. Level of technology, unknown. Pretty much everything, unknown. Which meant the human governments of Lakeside and Talulah Falls, which were the nearest human-controlled places, didn’t know Ferryman’s Landing was an Intuit village.

So Burke had to be wondering what he’d gotten his friend’s son into.

Simon and Henry weren’t big on small talk. They also weren’t big on explanations. Wolfgard’s call that morning had been unexpected, as was the invitation—demand?—that Monty and Burke come with him and Henry to discuss whether Roger Czerneda would be acceptable as an official police officer for Great Island.

Monty wasn’t sure if the short notice—little more than the time it took Wolfgard to drive from the Courtyard to the Chestnut Street Police Station—showed a lack of courtesy or a last-minute decision to include two members of Lakeside’s police force so that there was someone available to answer any questions the Great Island residents might have. Either way, every effort Burke had made to find out why they were both invited and unwelcome had been met with silence.

Sitting on the right side of the van behind Henry, Monty couldn’t see much of the Talulah River, so he concentrated on the landward side. The moment they passed the sign that read LEAVING LAKESIDE, he saw nothing but brown fields and bare trees. Viridus was the greening month, but nothing was blooming yet. Then he spotted an industrial complex that looked abandoned and houses crowded together on the land that rose behind it. He barely had time to blink when he was looking at open land and stands of trees again. The visual difference was so sharp, it felt like a blow to the senses.

“What kind of businesses were in the buildings we just passed?” he asked.

“Those buildings are closed,” Henry replied.

That didn’t answer his question. “Closed? Why?”

“They were warned twice about dumping too much badness into the land and water. They were told to find another way to make their products. They didn’t listen, so the Others who watch over this piece of Namid said, ‘No more,’ and the businesses had to leave.”

“To go where?”

Henry shrugged. “Into a city where they can dump their badness into land and water the humans use, or to another part of Thaisia that did not already have much badness from what humans made. Either way, they are gone from here, and the water and land do not taste of them anymore.”

Burke set his hand on the seat between them and wagged a finger in warning, but Monty couldn’t let it go. “What about the people?”

“I think some found other work and still live in the houses. Most moved away,” Henry replied.

Only this much land and not an acre more, no matter how cramped and crowded people’s living conditions become, Monty thought. Only this much waste as a by-product of what is made, or even the little bit granted to you will be lost.

Monty had read the human version of Thaisia’s history. He knew that boomtowns could become ghost towns. Even hamlets didn’t survive. Look at Jerzy.

Would anyone from Jerzy end up living in one of those empty houses? Would the decision makers on Great Island consider making room for more than one new resident?

Then Monty saw a small sign that read, FERRYMAN’S ORCHARDS NEXT RIGHT.

“We’re almost there,” Simon said.

Henry turned his head toward the backseat. “The Intuits have a shared use of all this land.”

Monty saw Burke’s look of surprise before the man regained control.

Open land changed to fenced pastures. Barns and farmhouses. Herds of cows and horses. Some sheep. A silo. A fading sign about picking your own berries. Rural, if Monty correctly understood the word.

Then it all changed again, and they were driving down the main street of a rustic little village. Electrical lines and lights in the windows were indications that this wasn’t a Simple Life community. The stores, while basic, were also abundant: grocery store, department store, general store, gas station; a handful of places to eat; a medical center and a dentist’s office; hair salon, bookstore, and a theater that offered two movies. And as they passed one of the side streets, he got a glimpse of signs for a bank and post office.

Not all that different from the Lakeside Courtyard’s Market Square, but built along the lines of a human business district.

“Ferryman’s Landing is divided by the river. This is the mainland half of it,” Simon said as he drove toward the water, then turned into a parking area. He shut off the van and got out, leaving the other three to catch up to him as he walked toward the dock.

“This is a marina?” Monty asked, noticing the building that indicated it was a boat repair and storage facility.

“Yes,” Henry said. “Some of the boats that dock here belong to families who fish for a living. Some will take visitors for a ride along the river.” The Grizzly pointed at a vessel. “And, as you can see, the ferry also runs out of here.”

More like a miniature ferry, Monty thought. The ferries he’d seen when he lived in Toland were three times the size of the boat he was looking at now.

One sign near the ferry’s dock posted the times. The other sign posted the fees for a round-trip ticket: $10 PER PERSON.

Not a trip anyone would want to do for fun, Monty thought. Especially with a family.

Burke pulled out his wallet and said, “Allow me.” He handed the man in the kiosk two twenty-dollar bills.

The man in the kiosk studied Simon and Henry. “I was told to expect the Lakeside Wolfgard. Would that be you?”

Simon nodded.

The man folded one of the bills and handed it back to Burke along with four tickets. “Day passes, in case you need to cross more than once during your visit.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Burke took the twenty and stuffed it into his coat pocket before handing the tickets to Monty, Simon, and Henry.

Only one price listed, and that one high enough to discourage visitors, Monty thought. “What happens if you want to bring a car to the island?” he asked once they boarded the ferry. Simon led them into the cabin, and he was grateful. Despite the sunshine, it didn’t feel like spring yet, especially on the water.

“Have to wait for the barge if you want to bring cars or trucks across,” Henry replied, taking a seat. “If you need something hauled on water, you call Ferryman. On land, you call Sledgeman Freight. That’s their building over there.”

Monty looked out the cabin window and studied the sign painted on one of the buildings. “They use horses to haul freight?”

Henry nodded. “They use trucks as well, but they still have working teams of horses on both sides of the river.”

Monty glanced at Burke and wondered if the man still wanted his friend’s son to relocate to the island.

“Morning.” A man wearing the gray uniform of the post office paused instead of walking by. “Saw some blue dancers yesterday.”

“Blue dancers?” Burke asked.

“A wildflower,” Henry replied. “When you see blue dancers, you know Spring is awake and Winter is yielding.”

The postman grinned. “But she never yields until she gives us one or two reminders of who she is before she settles in to sleep.” With a casual wave, he moved toward the front of the cabin and took a seat.

“They don’t have a full crew today,” Simon said, pointing to what looked like a small bar. “Usually they have someone in here selling coffee and sandwiches. In the summer, it’s cold drinks and ice cream.”

Could be a pleasant trip in the summertime if you could afford it, Monty thought. An afternoon’s outing to take the ferry, visit the village on the other side, and be home in time for dinner. Did the ferry run on Earthday if he wanted to take Lizzy, or would he need to arrange a day off?

Assuming he could win enough of a custody battle to keep his daughter on this continent. And assuming visitors were tolerated in the village. That was something he could report to Kowalski since Ruth was keen to visit the Simple Life community on the island but couldn’t find any information about a possible place to stay if they wanted to do an overnighter.

The welcoming committee waited for them at the dock—two men and one woman. Monty recognized the feral quality in the woman and one of the men, but he couldn’t tell what kind of earth natives had chosen to meet them.

“Mr. Ferryman,” Simon said when they stood in front of the Great Islanders.

“Mr. Wolfgard. You’ve brought guests.”

“This is Captain Burke and Lieutenant Montgomery. They need to be here for this discussion.” He looked at Burke. “Steve Ferryman is the mayor of Ferryman’s Landing.”

“Which will teach me not to leave the room just before a vote is about to be taken by the village council.” Steve gave them all an easy smile. “Welcome to Great Island and Ferryman’s Landing. As you can guess by the name, my family has been working the river since my ancestors came to this part of the Great Lakes. And this is Ming Beargard and Flash Foxgard. They’re a couple of the island’s peacekeepers. Since Mr. Wolfgard indicated on the phone that you all wanted to talk about the police on the island, I asked Ming and Flash to join us. I also reserved one of the rooms in the government building for us.”

Steve waved a hand. A moment later, an open carriage pulled by a horse arrived at the dock. “One of our village taxis.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Ming said, indicating himself and Flash. “Henry? Want to stretch your legs?” When Henry agreed, he and the Great Island earth natives strode off.

Monty and Burke climbed into the forward-facing seat. Simon and Steve took the seat behind the driver, whom Steve introduced as Jerry Sledgeman. As soon as they were seated, Jerry clucked to the horse and the carriage headed away from the dock.

“You don’t have cars?” Monty asked.

“Sure we do. But we don’t use them much around the village proper,” Steve replied.

“We have a regular taxi and a small bus for village stops,” Jerry said over his shoulder. “And there’s the bus that makes a couple of runs out to the Simple Life folks and the terra indigene complexes each day. It also provides special transportation to the island’s athletic and community centers. “

“Since each half of the village is only a few blocks in any direction, those of us who are young enough and fit enough tend to use our own feet to get around,” Steve said. “Or we ride bicycles in the summer. Jerry just put away the sleighs that are part of our winter transportation.”

This half of Ferryman’s Landing was almost identical to the business district on the other side of the river. Most of the same businesses and stores. Monty had the impression this side was a little bigger, had a little more of everything—which made him wonder if the island residents were cut off from the mainland by weather for parts of the year.

“Government building is exactly that,” Steve said when Jerry pulled up in front of a long, two-story stone building. “Police and court, what there is of it, on one end. General government in the middle. Post office on the other end.”

“That’s handy,” Burke said politely.

“It is,” Steve agreed. “Especially since the post office is the part of the building that gets the most use.”

When they walked into the building, Ming, Flash, and Henry were waiting for them. They went upstairs to a room that had a Reserved sign hanging from a hook on the wooden door. Steve removed that sign and replaced it with a Do Not Disturb sign that he took from a rack on the wall.

When they were all seated around a table, Steve looked at Simon and said, “It’s your meeting.”

“You heard what happened in Jerzy?” Simon asked.

“Everyone has heard what happened in Jerzy,” Ming growled. “We received your warning about the sickness and the signs to watch for if it comes to the island.”

“That’s good,” Simon said.

Something’s not right between them, Monty thought as he studied Simon and Steve.

“A policeman in Jerzy who came to the aid of the Crowgard has to relocate,” Simon said.

“Everyone in Jerzy has to relocate,” Steve countered. “At least, that’s what we heard on the news.”

“This policeman is known to Captain Burke, who says the man would like to relocate here.”

“Is this policeman who wants to live here one of us?” Steve asked softly.

“No,” Simon replied.

Steve tipped his head to indicate Burke. “Does he know what we are?”

“He knows you are Intuit. I don’t think he truly appreciates what that means.”

Steve studied Burke, then looked at Simon. “Can he be trusted?”

“These two can be trusted,” Simon said.

Monty released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Steve sat back and gave Burke a sharp smile. “We were persecuted by your kind of humans, driven out of the settlements we helped build when we weren’t killed outright. Many generations ago, we fled into the wild country to make our own bargains with the terra indigene and build our own communities. We attend your universities and technical colleges for the knowledge, and we risk working for some of your companies for a few years in order to acquire experience and necessary skills that we bring back to our own people. But for the most part, we have kept ourselves apart from you in order to survive. That is still a prudent choice. So, you see, having a non-Intuit human living among us would be … unprecedented.”

“You have the Simple Life folk living on the island,” Burke countered. “How is that different from someone living among you in the village?”

“Simple Life is a chosen way of life,” Steve replied. “It doesn’t fit with your cities, but it does mesh fairly well with our little villages. The Simple Life folk tolerate our ways, and we tolerate theirs. And the terra indigene tolerate the presence of all of us.”

“You earn your place here,” Ming said.

To Monty, that sounded like high praise coming from a terra indigene Bear.

“In Brittania, where my ancestors hail from, I believe your ability would be called second sight,” Burke said to Steve. “A knowing that can’t be explained. Would that be accurate?”

“Close enough,” Steve said.

“Prophecy?” Monty asked.

“No.”

The forceful denial startled Monty. But it seemed to confirm something for Simon Wolfgard, who tensed.

“Intuits don’t have visions; we don’t see images of the future,” Steve said, sounding a bit too insistent. “We just get a feeling for good or ill when something is happening around us.”

“And now?” Simon asked. “What are you feeling now?”

Wolf and Intuit stared at each other.

Then Steve looked at Burke and Monty. After a moment, he said, “I have a feeling that there’s a storm coming, and maybe it would be good to have an official police officer living among us, even if he isn’t one of us.” A hesitation. “Intuits make use of technology, but we’ve also made choices that keep us in harmony with the terra indigene. Those aren’t choices most humans want to make. Would this policeman be easy with that? With us?”

“I think Roger would be able to adjust,” Burke said carefully.

Steve sat back. “Does this Roger know how to ride a horse?”

“I don’t know. Will he need to?”

“It would be handy. What about sports?”

“He played hockey when he was in school.”

“Baseball? Volleyball? Anything like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s supposed to be a police officer, not fill vacancies in your sports teams,” Henry said.

“No reason he can’t do both,” Steve replied. He exchanged a look with Ming and Flash, then nodded. “All right. We won’t be able to pay him much, but we’ll give Roger a chance to make a place for himself here.”

“Thank you,” Burke said. “If there is anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“Some suggestions for how to purchase an official police car would be helpful. We don’t have one.” Smiling, Steve pushed back from the table.

Simon gave the table three sharp taps.

Steve settled back in his chair, his smile fading. “Why don’t you take a look around the village? Mr. Wolfgard and I will catch up to you.”

Monty and Burke followed Henry and Ming out of the room, with Flash bringing up the rear. He looked back as Flash closed the door—and he wondered why seeing Steve and Simon lean toward each other made him uneasy.

“When you sent word the other day, saying you were coming to the island, I wondered if you wanted to get away from the Courtyard for a couple of days,” Steve said. “Coming here would be a good choice. It’s close but not your responsibility. And you’re not opposed to our way of life, which is more than can be said for the Talulah Falls Courtyard.”

“That’s not why I called,” Simon replied. He’d spent the drive up to the island thinking about what he wanted to know and how to ask the questions. Intuits had survived by being very careful. They lived up to the bargains they made with the terra indigene, which was why the Others helped them attend colleges in human cities or learn useful trades so that they knew the workings of human businesses. With that knowledge, they were consultants for the terra indigene when it came to making bargains with other humans, and their loyalty was well rewarded with land and protection.

“No, that’s not why you called,” Steve agreed. “You showed up with Lakeside police and this request to bring in an outsider. But that’s not why you’re here.”

Henry said.

Simon said. He didn’t know how long it would take to ask the right question to find out what he needed, so he didn’t waste time. “You told Lieutenant Montgomery that you don’t see prophecy. But I think the Intuits know about the cassandra sangue.”

Steve pushed back from the table, looking a little frightened. “Don’t go there.”

Interesting. And not what he expected. But the response told him how he needed to proceed with this hunt. “I have to go there. Meg is my friend.”

“Who is Meg?”

“Our Human Liaison. She’s a blood prophet. Being out in the world is causing some … reactions.”

“Then take her back to her caregivers.”

Ignoring the plea in Steve’s voice—and the strange, desperate hope—Simon snarled and let his canines lengthen enough that they couldn’t be mistaken for human. “Keepers and cages. She said she’d rather die than go back to that place, and she meant it.” He waited a moment. “What do you know?”

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands. “It was a dark time in our history, and Intuits still carry the shame of it.” He sighed. “All I can offer is old stories that were passed down. But I want your word that you won’t say anything about this to Jerry Sledgeman or any of his family.”

“Why?”

“Because his niece started cutting herself when she reached puberty. By the time the family realized the cuts were deliberate and she was hiding a lot more than they’d seen, she started going mad—and they started to suspect she might be a cassandra sangue. But it’s been six, maybe even seven, generations since a blood prophet was born to any of the families on the island. No one knew how to help her. There was talk of finding one of those places that take care of such girls, but Penny, Jerry’s wife, was against it. Because of what had happened before. She’s the island’s historian and has studied Intuit history in Thaisia, so her opinion carried weight.”

“Where is the girl?” Simon asked. Meg was learning how to live outside the compound where she’d been held. He thought she did pretty well most days, but she was plagued by the pins-and-needles feeling, as if prophecies were like horseflies always swarming and biting. Still, she could explain some things to a girl who had no understanding of how the visions worked.

“Dead,” Steve replied sadly. “She jumped in the river last summer and was swept over the falls before anyone could try to save her.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t feel any sorrow or regret for a stranger, but he did understand how the loss of kin hurt. So he knew offering condolences was the proper thing to do.

“Penny’s sister hasn’t spoken to her since that day.”

Words, words, words. And nothing said yet that would help him.

“Meg said the girls were kept in cages. Cells with locked doors. They were tied down and cut when someone paid for a prophecy. Her designation was cs759.”

Steve stared at him. “Designation?”

“They weren’t given names. Property isn’t given names.” Simon watched anger kindle in Steve’s eyes, and used words to lay a trail for this hunt for information. “Meg has a silver razor. The blade’s width is a precise measure of how far apart the cuts have to be. Her designation was engraved on one side of the handle.”

“Seven five nine. Seven hundred fifty-nine? There have been seven hundred fifty-nine girls in that one place?” Steve raked a hand through his hair. “When humans first met the terra indigene in other parts of the world, they ignored the boundaries that had been set by Namid itself, and there were great battles. When it looked like they would become purged from the world, Namid gave some of them the gift of knowing that humans call intuition. And the world changed a few humans so that their blood became a window to the future. More than just a knowing. But such a gift always comes at a cost. The women, because the prophets were always women, went mad after a few years.

“Then it was discovered that the blood of the cassandra sangue could quiet anger, could take away pain.”

“Could make someone so passive they wouldn’t fight back even if attacked?” Simon asked.

Steve shrugged. “That wasn’t mentioned in the stories, but there are several historical references from the years when settlers first came to Thaisia of how the presence of something the terra indigene called sweet blood ended a conflict without a fight. And there were also a few mentions of terra indigene lapping up blood and then going mad. Reading between the lines, and given the fact that blood is mentioned in both cases, I’d guess that both those things had something to do with the girls who were prophets.”

So this isn’t the first time this has happened, Simon thought. Did someone find these historical references? Is that where the idea for making the drugs that are causing the sickness came from? “What does this have to do with the Intuits?”

“The cassandra sangue came from us. The special girls. The prophets. But when you’re trying to hide in a human village, when you’re trying to avoid being branded as having some kind of sorcery or channeling power that belongs to the gods, having a girl in the family who has visions of the future and warns of disasters whenever she gets a cut can be an excuse to hang an entire family. And it was done, Mr. Wolfgard. It was done.”

He nodded to indicate he was listening.

“A few generations ago, men started showing up when stories began spreading about a girl. They talked about a special home, a secret place where the girls would be safe, would be cared for without putting their families at risk. Safety for everyone. Family stories always emphasized that parents gave up their daughters to keep the girls safe, to keep the rest of their children safe.”

“Maybe it was safer in the beginning,” Simon said.

“Maybe. But hunters learn how to find their preferred prey, and soon the special girls, the cassandra sangue, had disappeared from Intuit family lines.”

“They didn’t disappear from all the family lines,” Simon said, thinking of Meg’s friend Jean, who had been born outside the compound.

“The potential didn’t completely disappear, at any rate. But …”—Steve’s hand closed into a fist—“those men. They breed the girls now, don’t they? Like livestock. Select the specific traits they want in the offspring.”

“I think so. Meg doesn’t talk about it much, so I don’t know for sure. But I think so.”

Neither spoke for a few minutes. Simon felt disappointed. He hadn’t learned anything that would help Meg.

“I don’t want to stir things up in the village by asking too many questions,” Steve said. “Is there something specific you want to know about the blood prophets?”

Simon thought for a moment. “Pins and needles. The prickling Meg feels so much of the time. Is that how it always is for a cassandra sangue who isn’t confined? Is that feeling why they start cutting in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to Penny, quietly. I think it will help her and her sister to know the river might have been the kinder choice. And I’ll contact other Intuit villages and see what I can find out.”

“Be careful. The man who held Meg is still trying to get her back. He sent men after her. They killed some of the terra indigene in the Courtyard before we destroyed them. And they almost killed Meg.”

“That’s what provoked the storm that shut down Lakeside?”

Simon nodded.

Putting his hands flat on the table, Steve rose. “All right. I’ll find out what I can about blood prophets, and we’ll do what we can for your policeman’s friend. Like I said before, we can’t pay him much, but I can promise food, clothes, and a roof over his head.”

“I think for now that will be enough.” Simon rose.

Steve studied him for a moment, then gave him an odd smile. “You called her a friend.”

“What?”

“Your Meg. You said she was a friend. A Wolf has really made friends with a human?”

He growled. He couldn’t help it. “Lakeside has a human pack now because of her. A whole pack of troublesome, not-edible females.” All right, the pack was made up of three females plus Meg, but when they ganged up on him, they felt like a lot more.

Steve pressed his lips together and kept blinking like there was something in his eyes.

“What?”

Steve rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Intuits, Simple Life folks, and the terra indigene have different tasks, but taken together, those tasks and abilities benefit all of us. And I think we’ve worked well together for a lot of years. But I don’t think Ming or Flash or any other terra indigene living here has ever thought of any Intuit as a friend. I have a feeling your Meg has changed things between your kind and mine more than anyone yet realizes.”

Simon cocked his head and studied the man. “You have a feeling?”

“Yes. A feeling.”

Not a word an Intuit used lightly.

“I’ll send word when Roger Czerneda is ready to come to the island.”

Steve reached back and rubbed a hand between his shoulders. “Maybe that’s part of it. The prickling you said your Meg feels. Intuits do better with a limited number of people. You get used to how people fit into the whole, so you know when something has changed. That’s one reason we don’t welcome people who find our village while they’re visiting Talulah Falls.”

Simon waited.

“Every choice changes the future.”

“So every time I choose whether or not to have a muffin at breakfast I’m an itch under Meg’s skin?”

“No. If that were true, all those girls would be completely insane no matter how few people they came into contact with. But since her kind came from us, once a prophet gets used to her surroundings and the people she usually sees, the day-to-day choices shouldn’t affect her anymore.”

Steve looked excited. But he hadn’t met Meg. Simon didn’t share that excitement.

“She’s been with us two months now. If she stills gets that prickling feeling several times a day …?”

The excitement faded from Steve’s face, and he looked grim. “If that’s the case, I have a feeling that your prophet is sensing a whole lot of bad headed your way.”

Yeah. That was what worried him. “I’ll be in touch.”

Steve hesitated. “Would you have any objection to my visiting the Lakeside Courtyard?”

He thought about that for a moment and why Ferryman would be asking now. “You want to get a look at Meg?”

“Yes, I’d like to meet her. But more than that, I’d like her to get a look at me.”

He thought about that too—and decided tearing out Steve’s throat was an honest response but not an appropriate one. And since he had enough to think about, he wasn’t going to ponder why that was his response.

He walked out of the room and kept going. He found Henry, Burke, and Montgomery at the ferry, loading jars of jam and honey to take back to the Courtyard.

Steve didn’t join them. Simon thought that was for the best.

On the drive back to Lakeside, he expected Burke at least to ask questions about what his friend’s pup could anticipate from living on the island. But the two humans were quiet, and he suspected Henry’s thoughts were more focused on the honey and jam they were bringing back.

That was fine. He didn’t need anyone yipping at him. But his talk with Steve had decided one thing: the next time Meg needed to cut, he was going to be there to confirm or deny his suspicions about the humans Namid made to be both wondrous and terrible.