Chapter Ten
Attending church was a comforting ritual, an anchor in my increasingly unpredictable schedule, but the attendance of the Freed had added a spice of its own. They lowered the average age, boosted singing, and had prompted Reverend Jenkins to a series of sermons chewing on why bad things happen to good people, theological and other divides between denominations, and the ongoing efforts of all faiths to come to terms with the preternatural. And although they'd been discreet, many congregants knew there had been generous donations to the church's funds. Certainly pastoral work was bustling.
The preternatural was again the topic of this week's sermon, because an interfaith conference had, to its surprise, managed to agree that Medicine Wolf and the emerging co-operation between kinds enshrined in the Accords had to be reckoned a challenge to human apostasy and selfishness and, a majority insisted, a divinely sanctioned one. The reasoning, as Reverend Jenkins understood it, had stewardship-over-dominion arguments compounded by exposure of Cantrip's amoral bigotry and the repeated implication of corrupted faith, with the shame induced. The latter was interesting, as it seemed to have dawned, even on the hotter sorts of Protestant, that the jury that acquitted Les Heuter, the JLS, and Mrs Bradley's messianic Dim Future contempt for family were not good things to be represented by, and some real crises of faith were brewing nicely, not before time. Beyond that there was another sting, for in closing Reverend Jenkins spoke directly of the Freed, assuring us she'd discussed it with them beforehand.
"As some of you know, the problem with the padre in Richland is his rigid view that the preternatural is necessarily evil, but early in our discussions I heard Ms Velasquez ask him how any Freed could be held to be damned by something others had done to them, and he had no answer. Episcopalians of course believe that anyone who repents can be saved, but I made the point that being forcibly Changed was not something any Freed could repent, for it was not of their choosing or doing. They can regret it, though it is far from clear they should, but cannot repent it, for they did no wrong. The same can be said of any wolf Changed without consent, as happened to Mr Hauptman" — that had come out when Adam and David Christiansen gave a joint interview — "and of course of all who are born fae or half-fae, avatar, Elder Spirit, or manitou. All exist within God's creation, and unless you are willing to embrace a Calvinism in which He is willing to create the damned, we must agree on salvation by works."
Reverend Jenkins gave the nearest thing I've ever seen her give to a predatory grin.
"For the Catholics, of course, that's orthodox, however they have a problem with putting it into practice in this case, but for many Protestant denominations it's something of a lemon, but the only alternative is that preternaturals can walk in grace. And though I was unable to attend the conference, for family reasons, I did record an address laying that out, and arguing bluntly that to consider anyone born or forcibly made preternatural to be thereby damned is to reject Christ with the whole of the New Testament, and to insist on a God as cruelly unjust as Calvin's. I understand it was heard in increasingly unhappy silence, and as something very like it is endorsed in the joint declaration I believe I did a fair job."
The grin returned, reminding me of a shark.
"What really stirs it all up is that this view coincides strongly with the liberal, often atheistic view that one must judge every being by what they say and do, not by any label we attach. I remind you of Galatians 6:7 — "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." And not only a man — also a woman, fae, wolf, Elder Spirit, or manitou. Do wrong, and you will at the last be judged for doing wrong, be you rich or poor, strong or weak, human or preternatural. But do right, and you will be rewarded for doing so, whoever and whatever you may be. The remaining problem, as always, is what constitutes doing right and doing wrong, but that's for another day."
Even Episcopalians didn't go for applauding sermons, but when Ramona and the Freed stood in acknowledgement the whole congregation followed, and Reverend Jenkins blushed becomingly before thanking everyone and getting on with the liturgy. There was quite a buzz afterward, and — one of the Freed's pleasing effects — people hung around, to shoot the breeze and make nice. Jesse had stayed home this week, so Adam and I didn't have to worry about the clump of reporters who turned up anywhere they knew I'd be, and we pulled a woman who worked in the mayor's office into conversation with Ramona about public safety films. She was tickled by the idea, and as werewolves, too dense to float, were very wary of water, while children managed to fall into the Columbia, Snake, and swimming-pools, the idea of a big bad wolf ostentatiously using water wings seemed like a good follow up. Adam wasn't sure if he was amused or offended, but Ramona thought it funny and I promised I'd check with Darryl on just how much buoyancy a wolf would need.
There was also business about the Freed's educational plans. Most had never completed high school, and a few had never attended at all, but once legal processes were over, and counselling had a grip, Ramona ruthlessly arranged tutors and coaches, saying college was their call but she didn't want an ignorant pack. Even those who grumbled had enjoyed themselves — good tutors were a much better experience than a desperately stretched system — and it had been a fine running segment of Living Free and Moonbound. Everyone benefited, and most Freed were now thinking about Wazzu in the fall. Well and good, but there had never been a cohort of college wolves before, and beyond what courses they were variously interested in all sorts of questions were being thrown up. How should days lost to midweek full moons be made up? Did wolf strength and speed make for highly desirable or unfairly advantaged athletes? And how did the Paths of Assertion and Mercy play in? Given Wazzu's strong agricultural and veterinary tracks there was a lot wolves might do, but it wasn't necessarily what they wanted to do. Some mutual back-scratching was a good idea, though, and we agreed a meeting between Ramona and the president, whom Adam and I knew from the Columbia conferences.
Heading home, we talked about the subtler effects of yesterday we'd seen in the Freed. Financial security and owning their own homes had been important to humans, especially former illegals, but not so much to their wolves; owning a tract of hunting land, though, meant a great deal more than ending the irritation of having to share at full moon, and we had sensed the wolves as at once excited and more relaxed. I thought that as the humans caught up there might be a drift towards land management and forestry, despite the Freed being more urban than rural, and such jobs might prove well suited to human and wolf needs. We'd also both been moved by their health and pleasure on four legs, and though it wasn't appropriate we felt oddly parental about them. That supposedly Chinese proverb about being responsible for a life you save was more recent than traditional, as far as I could google, but it had some punch all the same.
Jesse didn't use cooking therapeutically, but enjoyed it and had both put pork in to cook and done roast potatoes and gravy. That left quicker-cooking vegetables for us and earth fae, who weren't vegetarian but went for more greens than meat, so I hauled out the steamer while Jesse went to tell them we'd be eating soon. Brent had gone to see a friend in Umatilla, so I was actually alone for a bit, and as I prepared red cabbage, baby carrots, and snow-peas did some stock-taking.
Running still depended on the public response, but I couldn't fool myself that was likely to be anything but positive, and though I was conflicted about Stefan it wasn't going to stop me — vamps had had many chances and done nothing, victims continued to pile up, and enough was enough. But my coyote excitement was engaged, seeing the mischief in it as well as the gravity, and I ruefully acknowledged I'd become hooked on re-arranging the nation's priorities to suit my own. Which Bran and Adam would have seen, and ap Lugh could have done. I thought the Man had come to an independent judgement, whatever mutual reinforcement there might have been among preternaturals, and he was one of the very few people who could say from experience what qualifications were required. They clearly weren't what I had vaguely supposed, and thinking it through ways in which things I'd thought liabilities could become advantages soothed my nerves. If it happened there was still going to be a ton of stuff to learn, but what the Man was telling me was that administration and governance were all very well, but lots of people could do that, and if you were leader then leading was what mattered. Changing the rules in national politics also promised to be, if perilous, highly entertaining.
I was on to who, or what, might run for Congress where, unhappily conscious I still had no idea of a good running-mate, when Jesse brought the earth fae in, formally inviting them to enter as guests in the ritual way they liked, and the kitchen filled up. By standing arrangement they set about laying the table, leaving steel cutlery for Jesse and taking their usual pleasure in the aluminium set Zee had made as a welcome-to-Kennewick gift. They spoke softly among themselves, of plants and the season, but once I had vegetables in the steamer started a happily different conversation that took us through the meal.
Seating fourteen earth fae required benches, and I found it deeply pleasing to see brownies and pixies happily tucking in. They'd told us it had been centuries since anyone had shown them such kindness, and though they weren't keen on meeting strangers we'd slowly widened their circle of friends to include Jenny, Andrea, Kyle, and the Fishers and Willises, as well as pack. Today it was just Adam, Jesse, and me, and they had business in mind, because what was it, exactly, Adam and I wanted for the sweep of land and river-frontage we jointly owned? Forest, wilderness, tillage, and garden they understood, but the way we kept scrubland from running wild without really doing anything with it puzzled them. It was a mixture of laziness and the time-consuming nature of serious gardening, of course, but as the work was no longer an impediment the only real issue was water — plants closer to the river or with deeper roots could flourish, but you didn't have to get far from the banks before topsoil was bone-dry unless it was raining. Then again, as Pirandella cheerfully pointed out, they all knew a thing or two about irrigation, Medicine Wolf could help if anything extensive was needed, and with the oaks flourishing other less usual plants might also be considered.
That was an opening I needed to take, but I made myself consider their question properly. Adam didn't have strong feelings, save that the view over the Columbia shouldn't be blocked, but conceded having the scrubland looking neater (as it already did) was pleasing. He mostly meant, but wasn't saying, that the stripped-down VWs I used to leave in my field to annoy him had gone, because rusting iron was a hazard for fae, and I gave him a mild fisheye that made him grin. Jesse had a hankering for a lawn where frisbees could be thrown and safely run for, but didn't want to impose a lot of work, and a stranger desire for a rockery with small-flowered plants. It transpired Jenna had the bug, and had been showing her and Sally images of gardens in Seattle and Portland she wanted to visit. I had a desire for roses, even if only one colour each, but thought expanding the kitchen garden wise, given how many vegetables we could get through. And Nuthatch thought all that straightforward, assuring Jesse that though lawn grass was thirsty he too liked its green softness.
Listening to them, I realised they all wanted a general greening, for visual as much as tactile comfort. Earth fae were spirits of worked rather than wild land, as coblynau of worked rock, not mountains, and their traditional niche had been between the gardens and tillage they would help humans tend and surrounding wilderness or forest. The parched scrubland of the rain-shadow was to them simply dull, and with the Columbia on tap and the aid Medicine Wolf could offer the desire to do something about their immediate surroundings was an urge they had no wish to resist. Once Nuthatch and Pirandella agreed they would draw up a plan for Adam and me to approve, I cautiously asked about the oaks, and was solemnly shown impromptu daggers — smooth, bulbous bases to grip, and four inches of jagged splinter-blade tapering to needle-points.
"Those are good. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I am glad you have an effective defence. I was genuinely asking about the oaks, though."
I told them about Celilo Falls, explaining that while offers to the Gray Lords and Underhill would be sincere there was also First People's strong dislike of photography and that interesting fae magic that didn't agree with cameras. The flipped deal to make it a quid pro quo Gray Lords might be happy to offer amused them — all fae appreciate cleverly worded deals — and they were as delighted at the idea of a lush space as intrigued by the thought of recruiting more trees.
"The oaks do not use glamour, Mercedes Elf-friend, but they have glamour. It is why none see them when they move. They cannot shield this house unless they surround it, but we could imbue your bounds with enough glamour that photographs would show little." Nuthatch cocked his head. "And there are many trees Underhill that might be glad of space Overhill to grow and fruit. I cannot say what they would think of protecting Celilo Falls, though I do not see why they would not like it, and I believe they would be glad to help protect the Freed Pack. Those wolves were as kind to us in that place as they could be, and their joy now in freedom is warmly felt, as is our own, and the selkies', oakman's, and dryad's."
"Huh. Well, that's good to know. I don't think we want the house invisible from over the river, but blocking South Piert and Meals so those tourist coaches got nothing would be good." Adam and Jesse agreed, and Nuthatch nodded. "But for the Freed, shielding would be a boon. The paparazzi have become more cautious — being hauled out of trees by unhappy wolves is not fun — but still try, and they've managed to snap Freed in their garden. Mmm. We're expecting ap Lugh and other Gray Lords later, about the political thing and the Undead, so I'll mention these ideas, as First People see them." That got grins. "Perhaps you might speak to the oakman, or others Underhill, and see who might be interested."
"That we can do, Mercedes Elf-friend, and joyfully." Pirandella looked contemplative. "Might the Freed welcome brownies and pixies, to tend their garden? There are enough of us here, yet others would work Overhill if they might. Underhill tends to itself."
"The Freed might well welcome earth fae, Pirandella. I'll ask Ramona. But there is no open water where they dwell in Richland, unless a well were drilled, or water could be drawn from the Yakima River."
"Even so. The waterside is pleasure, not necessity. And with Medicine Wolf, much might be possible."
"So it might." I added to my burgeoning to-do list. "Richland is much more urban, and even two gardens together don't add up to anything like the space we have here. Living by the Yakima might be preferable, but that would put the ByPass Highway between them and the Freed's houses."
"We could build a bridge, love." Adam waggled a hand. "Richmond knows it owes us, so I doubt they'd refuse permission."
They were happy with that, and conversation shifted to things Adam had pack-members and others doing on my behalf. Kyle already had a working draft of a vamp code of conduct, and Auriele had done a bunch of stuff for the vamp intel package. Ben had secured the domain-names I wanted, and had programming I'd need in advanced testing, though Adam still refused to repeat what he'd said when he'd received the request. Some earth fae lost interest, talking among themselves, but Nuthatch and Pirandella listened carefully, occasionally asking for clarification, and seemed amused. How well they understood the human dimensions was moot, but it was the first Jesse was hearing of some of it, and she surely did, grinning very widely and asking sharp questions about timing.
"Kiddos can do a lot with that, Mom. Is there any legal problem with minors being involved?"
"Not formally, Jesse, but there are gray areas. Talk to Ben to make sure you grok the software accurately? It has to be very resilient to channel the good chaos into better order."
"Sure thing. And that's more awesome, Mom, as well as really reaching out. The gun control, too, though some of the post-Parkland people will have a hard time with the gun rights."
"Yeah, I know. Not a word to anyone yet, though once I've sorted out when this all happens with Caroline and Penny you could do some tweeting or whatever to boost the audience."
Jesse knew all too well what public exposure meant, and had no desire to put her face on the nation's screens and front pages while she could avoid it, but also had a serious number of online followers, a high percentage her peers, nationwide and beyond.
"Gladly, Mom. Can we talk about how kiddos and ex-kiddos should talk to voting family members? Clear templates would be good."
That took us into stacking the dishwasher, of which earth fae couldn't quite decide if they approved. I was teasing Pirandella about her ambivalence when my phone sounded with an expected ring-tone, and ap Lugh asked permission to come with others by arch to the garden.