Simon closed his eyes. Nothing he could do for the moment. Blair would look after the Courtyard—and keep an eye on Sam and Meg. As for the humans, he would have to trust Lieutenant Montgomery to keep the peace until he got back.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Meg muttered when she spotted the black sedan idling along the side of the Liaison’s Office, unable to move forward because of all the delivery trucks that were in the way.
Parking her BOW willy-nilly and hoping no one needed to get another vehicle out of the garages, she bolted into the office. She had to get some of those deliveries taken care of before Elliot Wolfgard coughed up a hairball.
Did Wolves have hairballs? How could she find out such things?
Shaking her head, she removed her boots, hurried into the sorting room . . . and stopped. The Private
door was wide-open, so she could see part of the front counter. The Hawk she had met the other day was standing behind the counter, his arms folded, his stance aggressive. He glared at someone she couldn’t see and said, “Just write the words the Meg will want and leave the boxes.”
One of the Crows, standing on the counter, cawed at the visitor, then walked
over to the container filled with pens, lifted one out and, holding it in his beak, walked back. He tapped one end of the pen on the counter, then held it up as if offering it to someone—who obviously didn’t take it because the pen was tapped on the counter again.
Hurrying to the doorway, Meg poked her head into the front room and got a look at the deliveryman.
“Hi, Dan. Sorry I’m late. Slept through the alarm. Just give me a second to get my coat off and I’ll be with you.”
She hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been about being alone with the Others until she saw the relief on his face. She hadn’t thought the Hawks and Crows were that dangerous, but maybe he knew more about them than she did.
“Oh, that’s all right, Ms. Meg. Happens to all of us.”
The Crow tapped the pen on the counter and held it up again.
Meg beamed a smile at the Hawk in human form and the Crow. “And you two opened up the office? That’s great. Thank you. Be right with you, Dan.”
“I know what you need.”
And he didn’t wait for her.
As she ducked back into the sorting room, she saw him gingerly take the pen from the Crow
.
By the time she hung up her coat and pulled on her shoes, Dan was outside, talking to a couple more deliverymen, and Harry was pulling open the door, juggling his delivery on one arm.
“Good morning, Harry,” Meg said. Had she remembered to brush her hair? Simon’s grab and hustle this morning had wiped her routine right out of her mind. She touched one side of her head.
“Morning, Miz Meg.” Harry looked at her hand and smiled. “I see you’ve got a couple of helpers today. You take your time getting settled. We’ll do fine.”
The Crow grabbed the pen lying on the counter and held it up.
Taking Harry at his word, Meg retreated to the washroom and looked in the mirror. Her hair wasn’t sticking up every which way, but it had been flattened by her hat. She ran a comb through it, decided that was as good as things would get, and went back to the counter.
The last deliveryman was writing down his information under the Crow’s watchful eye. He looked at Meg and smiled. “Figures the day you’re late to arrive is the day we’ve all got the Courtyard down as our first stop.”
“Well, you all took care of it, and I thank you for that,” Meg replied as she watched the black sedan pull out on Main Street.
“The Beargard said to help the Meg today,” the Hawk said.
“Oh.” The Crow was entertaining himself by pulling pens out of the container and arranging them on the counter, but what was she supposed to do with the Hawk? And how long did they expect to “help” today?
Since he was in human form, there was one thing the Hawk could do.
“I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning,” Meg said. “Would you go over to A Little Bite and ask Tess for some coffee? Tell her it’s for me, and she’ll know how to fix it. And ask her if Howling Good Reads has any copies of the Lakeside newspaper.”
The Hawk stared at her. “The Lorne makes the newspaper. He’s over there.” He pointed in the direction of the Three Ps.
“Not the Courtyard’s newsletter. I’d like a copy of the newspaper the humans read.”
“Why would you want that?”
The Crow looked up from his pen arrangement to stare at her too.
Clearly being
too
interested in human activity was suspicious behavior here, even if the person was human. But something bad had happened, something that had caused Simon to leave in a hurry. Maybe she could find out what it was without cutting.
“As Liaison, I should be aware of what is happening in the human part of the city,” Meg said, choosing her words with care. “And I can check store ads and make a list of things that might interest the
terra indigene
.”
After a moment, the Hawk nodded and left. Meg smiled at the Crow and brought the handcart of packages into the sorting room.
Some were small enough to go with the mail. Others she would pack in the BOW for deliveries, along with her personal delivery.
The Hawk returned with a large coffee, a newspaper, and a small bag. He set them all on one end of the sorting table.
“HGR gets newspapers,” he said. “Tess will tell Vlad that you are to get one now. There is food. There is no mouse in it, but the Merri Lee said you would like this meat better.”
Thank the gods for Merri Lee.
“Thank you.” When he stared at her, she added, “I don’t need any more help right now.”
He turned and went into the back room. Meg was reaching for the coffee when he walked back out, naked. He went right by her, vaulted over the counter, then held out an arm for the Crow, who hesitated but hopped on his arm. The two of them left the office.
The Crow joined its friends on the wall that separated the delivery area from Henry’s yard. The Hawk stood in full view of anyone driving by long enough to make Meg wonder how to explain the cause of all the car accidents when the police came calling. Then he shifted and flew off.
Putting all the pens back in the holder, Meg went into the sorting room. There was nothing to do until the mail truck arrived, so she ate her breakfast and skimmed through the
Lakeside News
from first page to last. She found a few things she thought might be of interest to the Others, but she’d ask Tess or Vlad before doing anything.
What she didn’t find was any kind of news that would explain why Simon had left in such a rush that morning.
Monty hesitated in the doorway of Captain Burke’s office. Something about the way the man sat behind the desk gave the strong impression that intruding for anything but an emergency wouldn’t be tolerated.
But when Monty took a step back, Burke said, “Come in, Lieutenant, and shut the door.”
He shut the door and approached the desk.
“Something on your mind?” Burke asked. He sounded subdued.
“Simon Wolfgard and two other
terra indigene
caught a westbound train this morning,” Monty said. “Henry Beargard called me with this information and suggested that a patrol car be at the station to ensure good behavior on the part of the humans. Officer Kowalski tells me this is unusual because the Others travel by train all the time and police presence isn’t requested.” He studied Burke. “It means something, doesn’t it?”
“It means Simon Wolfgard knows more about what’s happening out west than we do,” Burke replied. He sighed and sat back. “Most likely, the newspapers and television news will receive a watered-down version to avoid things escalating out west or spreading to other parts of Thaisia.”
Monty shivered. “Sir?”
“In hamlets that have less than a thousand people, the Others don’t have a Courtyard. They don’t need one because there is no way in or out of those places except on roads running through
terra indigene
land. But the Others usually have a house at the edge of the village, a place for mail and packages to be delivered and the place where they have electricity and telephones and where they enjoy the technology we’ve developed. The gards take turns using the house and looking after it, as well as dealing with the mail and deliveries.
“Last night in Jerzy, a farming hamlet that provides about a quarter of the food for one of the bigger cities on the West Coast . . .” Burke stopped and just stared straight ahead for a long moment. “Well, we don’t really know what happened, except some young fools hopped up on some damn thing figured out the Crows had gathered for a movie night, broke into the house, and attacked the Others. One of the Crows managed to reach the phone and call for help, and a couple of them got away and alerted the rest of the
terra indigene
. The police officers who responded to the call were shot by the intruders, along with several Crows. That much is clear. After that . . . The Others caught some of the attackers and killed them, right out on the street. And then they went crazy. Some of the people in the village, instead of staying in their houses, grabbed whatever they could for weapons and went out and escalated the fight.”
Burke clasped his hands and pressed them on the desk. “By the time police reinforcements from other hamlets arrived, the fight was over and the Others had disappeared into their own land. We don’t know how many
terra indigene
died in that fight, but one-third of the people in Jerzy are dead. We know the humans started it, so the survivors are damn lucky the Others left anyone alive.”
Burke’s voice had risen to something close to an angry roar.
Out of the corner of his eye, Monty saw men jerk to a stop and stare before hurrying away.
“How did you find out about this, sir?” Monty asked.
Burke sagged, his face an unhealthy gray. “One of the officers who responded to the call is the son of a friend of mine. The Others found Roger and took him to the clinic. Saved his life. The other three police officers didn’t make it. So Roger was the only one who knew for sure what happened up to his being shot. My friend called me this morning, both to tell me about Roger and to warn me about something Roger had heard before he passed out.” He pushed back from his desk and stood up. “I will be talking—quietly—to the chief, to other captains, and to all the team leaders in this station. The chief will decide who else needs to know.”
“About the attack?”
Burke shook his head. “About something that pumps up aggressive behavior. One of the attackers was boasting about having ‘gone over wolf’ and how they would become the enemy in order to defeat the enemy.”
“Gods above and below,” Monty whispered.
“So if you hear any whispers about humans having ‘gone over wolf’ or about something on the street that pumps up aggression, I want to know. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” He hesitated, not sure he wanted to know. “What about the rest of the people in that hamlet? What will happen to them?”
“The Others let an ambulance come in and take Roger to a city hospital. They did that because he had responded when the Crows called for help. Then they barricaded the roads. Now the only ways out of Jerzy don’t lead to anyplace human, and right now it’s unclear if people would survive if they tried to leave. But one thing has already happened in the city that is supplied by Jerzy.”
“Rations,” Monty said. He remembered a winter as a child when his mother was making more soups and got so angry when he or his siblings tried to take a second piece of bread. That spring, he and his father and brothers had turned a piece of their backyard into a vegetable garden, and his mother learned how to can fruit for the hard times, and never went to the butcher shop or the grocery store without her ration book.
“Rations,” Burke agreed. “And you can bet
that
will be news in every city throughout Thaisia, even if the reason isn’t. That will be all, Lieutenant, unless you have something to add.”
“No, sir. Nothing.”
As Monty walked back to his desk to check his messages, he remembered Vladimir Sanguinati’s words.
Next you’ll be eating your weak in order to keep the strong healthy.
He sank into his chair, his legs trembling. Was someone
trying
to provoke a war between humans and Others? Did anyone think humans could win?
And if humans started a war and lost, what would happen to the survivors? Would there
be
any survivors?
Monty took out his wallet and opened it to the picture of Lizzy. He stared at that picture for a long time.
I will do my best to keep you safe, Lizzy girl. Even if I never see you again, I will do my best to keep you safe.
Putting his wallet back in his pocket, he went out to find Kowalski.
“Yes?”
“By the gods! Did you hear about Jerzy? All those people dead!”
“There was some mention of a hamlet by that name, but the news reports were very vague.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“What happened has nothing to do with me. As for what you should do, this seems like the time to adjust the price for your crops. The prophecy did say an incident would create an opportunity for great profit.”
“But the prophecy didn’t say anything about slaughter!”
“Why should it? You wanted to know if you could make more profit on your farms without further investment. Prices always rise when there is a shortage. Since you own most of the farmland in another hamlet that supplies the same city, you’ll have great influence in setting the prices for a variety of crops.”
“But you didn’t say the shortage would be caused by people being killed!”
“And you didn’t ask about anything but profit when the girl was cut.”
An uneasy silence. “I should have phrased my request more carefully. I didn’t mean to imply I had been given an inferior girl.”
Quiet menace. “You paid for a cut on one of my best girls, and that is what you received.”
“Yes, of course. You run the finest institution, and all of your girls are of exceptional quality. But for my next appointment, could I reserve cs759?”