Chapter Thirteen

Wednesday I was usually due at Clean Up the Basin!, but this week senior staffers and accountants were meeting me at Jenny's, and I went early to brief her and Andrea on what I'd been up to — or about half of it. I was interested by their expressions, Jenny's shocked, Andrea's happy.

"No tourists or photography at all, Mercy?"

"With luck. And no photographs of the house from this side of the river, nor the Freed's house and garden."

"Well, that's welcome. Harassment cases eat time. The Falls, though … I'd anticipate legal challenges from more than one source."

"Media and tourists?"

"Certainly. Maybe the ACLU."

"They can go whistle, Jenny. Exclusion of non-Amerindians from sacred space will be backed by federal and bi-state legislation, and while someone standing in a public space has the right to point a camera wherever, there is no right to have photos show anything. You should point out to any court hearing a challenge that it has no authority over anything Medicine Wolf wants to plant on itself." Jenny blinked and Andrea swallowed a laugh. "What I would like help with, Andrea, is selling the major positive of having a Sacred Space that, besides being very good for First People, and useful as a preternatural meeting-place, is simply not available for grabbing, physically or digitally. Sacred means sacred, period."

"Oh yes. It'll be OK, Jenny. Bet you that after the initial shock and grumbling, and some fatal, or at least very embarrassing, attempts to breach the ban, people will become proud of it."

"Maybe, Andrea. I'll think about it. And the media will never give up." Jenny shook her head. "Fatal attempts?"

I shrugged. "I won't rule it out. We will tell everyone clearly that there are many animals with teeth in residence, including rattlers, weaponised to defend against intrusion. Trespassers are unlikely to be shot, but winding up dead is well on the cards."

"Children?"

"Were discussed, but I'm not sure how discriminating grizzlies, cougars, and rattlers can be. Huorns at the perimeter catching any stray kids and raising an alarm should be possible, though."

Jenny blinked again. "The trees can raise an alarm?"

"Yup. We just have to sort out how, and alerting whom. They'll always be Yakama about, but I haven't been briefed by Medicine Wolf or Underhill about exactly what they're doing. Soon, I hope."

Jenny gave up objecting, though she looked put out. "And you've briefed the governors?"

"Only about this. They did ask about the other, and I told them I'd be giving an interview next week after talking to both legislatures. Unless someone pulls a last-minute stunt there should be strong Yakama and First People acceptance right along the river. Briefing campaigns in other basin states and Canada should be ready to roll."

They both nodded.

"Already are, Mercy." Andrea had been liaising with Mary about that. "And not a problem. The basic deal is plainly fair and equitable, and I've spoken to state treasurers as well as senior people at the Fed. As it's a programme dealing only with re-emergent land, they're all good with low interest, long-term loans as needed. I'm still a way short of quantifying what that's really going to mean, though Riva and others are being helpful, but it'll be a clear precedent and path of least resistance."

"Good, and my warm thanks to you both for all you've done on this. The full-river revival will benefit enormously. Oh, and another point about sacred teeth. Without dams, river journeys will pick up, so it'll be a necessary portage and rest place. The portage for non-Amerindians will be a lot longer, and again they can whistle — they made it so no-one could canoe the river's length, and can't say they need to start doing so now."

"And if non-Amerindians approach by canoe?"

"Who knows, Jenny? Swept over the Falls by sudden currents, probably, after which it'll depend on how skilled and equipped they are. Unless the salmon go for them, in which case they'd be toast." She looked pained and I thought about it. "Some kind of fish snack, anyway. First People and Elder Spirits are not kidding. There's never been Anglo respect, and the abrogation by bribery of 1855 still rankles, badly."

"I know." Andrea half-grinned. "Riva gave me an earful about that, and I was hashing it over with my dad the other night. He'll be all in favour of this plan because it begins to answer what he thinks our major strategic need, learning to keep strictly our oath with the Fae, accepting it is not up for profitable, expedient, or partisan alteration." She shrugged. "Uphill struggle, but I didn't think he was wrong."

"Interesting." Jenny frowned. "How is Celilo Falls a first answer?"

"Another similar but, no offense, lesser boundary we need to respect. And frankly, Jenny, though I hope there are very few, some selfish and faithless folks getting themselves made into Antigonus sandwiches or whatever is fine by me. Mercy?"

I registered Antigonus sandwiches with amusement, but I was staring because an idea had hit me with a snap of intuition. I spun it, and decided I was being coyote smart, though other opinions were wanted — but there was no point getting them before finding out if it was workable.

"Sorry, Andrea. Light-bulb moment. What do you think your dad would say if I asked him to be my running mate?"

There was a silence in which Brent and, more cautiously, Jenny gave me thumbs-ups, while Andrea blinked.

"For real?"

"I think so. Older, human, Anglo, male, eastern, politically clean, preterophile, experienced debater, historian, well used to slapping down the idiot unruly. I like him a lot, as do Adam and Jesse, and if he's willing and we do it, four years as Veep ought to be good for his pension."

"There's that." Jenny was back to sounding dry, but she'd met Frank and liked him too. It was hard not to like someone who'd co-raised Andrea, and he'd clearly been the source of her artless charm. "I think that's a very good call, Mercy. You're right he'd add a lot of balance, with useful complementary experience." Her com buzzed and a secretary let us know people were arriving. "I'd think he could get unpaid leave to campaign with a promise of holding his job open, given his length of service."

"Huh. Can you ask him, please, Andrea, urgently, and give him my cell and landline numbers? I'm busy from tomorrow night into next week, and we'd need to be on Adam's system." I thought hard. "There's a thing I've been waiting on … well, events as well as clearance, to brief you both about, and this will advance the timing, but my hands are tied until. Mmm. Unless … I am free tonight, so if you want to head over you can be in on the discussion. You too, Jenny, though if what I'm wondering about happens it will be something you'll need to keep very quiet about for a while."

Jenny's gaze sharpened, but Andrea just nodded.

"OK. I'm trying to take your request in, Mercy, and I dunno what Mom or Dad are doing tonight, but if, then sure. He'll be delighted you're running and flattered silly to be asked, whatever he decides."

"He'd do better to run for the woods." So would I, but I was increasingly happy with this idea. "Though you could tell him it's time to stop teaching history and start making it."

Andrea and Jenny grinned before we stood to greet staffers and accountants, and after offering thanks for coming Jenny handed over to me. News that I was considering running and would make that public soon brought cheers that had me blushing, but as soon as I was running a serious firewall between charitable and political fundraising was needed. Jenny took over again.

"Please listen very carefully. Mercy holds copyright in images used by Clean Up the Basin!, and will remain entitled to income from licensed use. Once the money is hers as taxed income she can spend it how she wants, including political donations to herself. You are entitled to make donations from your own taxed incomes, but it is essential no money received by Clean Up the Basin! go anywhere near political accounts, and that images licensed for charitable purposes not be used politically, so as we can expect fierce scrutiny from media, if not authorities, new procedures are being instituted."

The detail was dull unless you were an accountant, but some security issues — including counterfeit campaign-ware, and image theft for attack ads — had me taking notes. I came in again to sketch what my political fundraising would look like, which dropped jaws and brought more cheers that pleased me better. Then we could wrap, reminding everyone nothing should be said to anyone until my interview, but Jenny kept me back.

"Can you say anything more about events you're waiting on, Mercy?"

"Not yet, Jenny, but you needn't fret. The Man, AED Westfield, and SAC Fisher all know."

"Ah." I couldn't say she relaxed, but a certain tension left her shoulders. "A major preternatural issue, then?"

"You could say, and yes, something campaigning honestly requires, but it really is complicated, Jenny, and who learns what when is critical."

"I bet. I can come tonight if Frank's free."

"I'll let you know. And it's been hard not telling my dad you're thinking about running, so that'll be a relief." Andrea gave me a look. "Though what I'll do if your supercool rubs off on him I have no idea."

I was still laughing when Brent and I got home, a little bemused by being thought supercool but enjoying it, and as I'd given myself a lot more calls to make I got on with them. Adam was surprised but positive, as Mary had been, and as Bran was talking to ap Lugh when I rang him I switched to a three-way configuration and laid it out again. Neither knew Frank, but both agreed with my reasoning about balancing the ticket, and seemed amused by my seeking approval.

"I wasn't offering a veto, Bran, just checking with however many collective millennia of experience."

"Of course, Mercedes." Ap Lugh smiled. "But do remember neither of us has ever sought elected office. I inherited power, while Bran Cornick won it. We are as much novices in this matter as you."

"Far be it from me to contradict you, Gwyn ap Lugh." Much. "Will any Alphas have objections, Bran?"

"I cannot see why they should." He smiled too. "And once they've met you in Denver, Mercy, I doubt any will challenge you on almost anything. Your dominance will surprise them nicely."

"As Skuffles does fae, perhaps."

"That sending surprises everyone, Gwyn ap Lugh, including me, and you should see it play coyote-in-the-middle." He blinked. "But there's one other thing, which is Frank Lafferty being with me if I'm travelling by cloak. Do you mind if I ask Underhill if she'll allow it, with your let?"

He raised an elegant eyebrow. "You're becoming very skilled in subtly coercive phrasing, Mercy, which is a compliment, and not in the least. We anticipated that request. Tell me, if you will, did Frank Lafferty being father to one who holds a liferose weigh in your decision?"

I hadn't heard that term before. "It was in there, Gwyn ap Lugh, but this one was coyote inspiration, more gestalt than conscious. Who to ask has been a headache, and Andrea mentioned her father when we were talking about something else. Liferose is a nice word. Is there perhaps some fae lore I should know about?"

"Not particularly, but however liferoses are no more than tokens of Underhill's favour, patterns do tend to form about their recipients."

"And the more so, perhaps, with my cloak at large?"

"I suspect so. It is interesting a serendipitous gift so soon proves useful. And before you ask, yes, Ms Lafferty's liferose makes it likely Underhill will be happy for her to pass through, as well as her father and, if it so falls out, mother. They have my let also, but no more humans without your further asking."

As I'd already been wondering about Mrs Lafferty I expressed gladness, and for once rang off on Bran. Next up was Medicine Wolf, who'd read an eager Frank when he visited, and cheered me by saying he seemed a good choice, in so far as it understood federal politics. I gave updates on the midnight sunshine plan, which pleased it. Coyote was a tougher sell, but he was grumbling mostly because he'd hoped for someone famous he could play a joke on, and the idea of a running mate well up on Amerindian history as well as the preternatural was welcome. Finally, there was the Man, whom I messaged to ask for his political sense and say I was going to have to do a bit of briefing sooner than expected, and would of course require oaths of secrecy. To my surprise he called a few minutes later, intrigued and happily between dull meetings, listened to my reasoning, and after cogitating gave me a thoughtful thumbs-up, asked when I'd pop the question, and offered to take a private call from Frank.

I was grateful, but once he'd rung off decided that was enough of that, so I collected the cloak and Brent before taking those three steps to the Garden of Manannán's Death. I took one bench, Brent another, leaving room for Underhill to sit beside me, and admired the continuing changes while we waited. The tiny white flowers twined around bench legs were still there, but had been joined by small golden ones that looked wonderful and added a spicy note to the sweet smell of roses, while a fountain had appeared, the water — I blinked — leaping up a chain of bowls before sheeting down to a surrounding pool. Brent had seen it, and we exchanged a long look, knowing another of Underhill's jokes had been filed. It might be on Manannán, he having been of a watery persuasion, and I was pondering it when Underhill strolled in.

"Do you like it, Mercedes Elf-friend?"

I rose and curtsied, seeing Brent bow. He got a nod, and I got a smile.

"I do, Underhill, and enjoy its humour. I was wondering if there was a reference to Manannán."

"Of sorts, for he disapproved of fountains. A foolishness, for water does not mind playing. And I have enjoyed talking irrigation with Medicine Wolf. My trees are pleased you think of them, so you again make me glad."

"As you have made me, and many, Underhill. The bullets, especially, are a most welcome gift, and my not-exactly father was wondering what name the wood might bear. Gwyn ap Lugh tells me also that I relieve boredom, and am happy to do so."

She laughed, but not her dangerous one. "Indeed you have. The wood is stonethorn, filmed with its own incompletion." She gave me a look that combined whimsy and something serious but not hostile. "The trees were interested by my command. Your fame spreads. And Gwyn ap Lugh told me of your conversation. Frank Lafferty is welcome to pass in your company."

"I am glad. And his wife and daughter, who bears a liferose?"

"Certainly. Gwyn ap Lugh is not wrong about patterns." I got another look I couldn't decipher. "But it is not my magic that shapes this, Mercedes, but yours. Oh yes it is — Coyote both loosed and channelled in you is at work, as Medicine Wolf cheerfully agreed. Your cloak and liferoses are magnifiers, and it is your intent to which they respond."

I shook my head ruefully. "I was afraid of that."

Underhill laughed again, with an edge. "And rightly, for you do not yet know your own strength even as you change Overhill for the better."

"And yet I know my ignorance. I'm making it all up as I go along." I shrugged. "It's what coyotes do, Underhill."

"I was not objecting." She came closer, patting my arm with a sunny smile. "And as Gwyn ap Lugh says so often, you are integrating all you have gained swiftly and well. Do not be surprised there are synergies."

"I'll try." My smile was wryer. "I suspect the synergies will be surprising enough for all. But there is nothing that should alarm me in the … unexpected convenience of Andrea Lafferty having a liferose?"

"Not in the least."

"Good. May I ask if there are at present Overhill any other liferoses than the three I know of?"

"You may, and there are not. It has been long and long since any dared ask me for such things." Power deepened in her gaze. "Rare things are rare for good reason, but your recommendation is one I would think on carefully, should need arise."

"I have no such plans, Underhill, nor would I presume. But there is one matter you might wish to talk to Gwyn ap Lugh about, if he hasn't spoken of it already."

I told her what I'd said regarding the Fae embassy, and was interested ap Lugh hadn't, so I added fuller reasoning about longevity contributing experience to the Path of Mercy, leaving her thoughtful.

"There would of course be some requesting access who will be hostile, or charlatans, but also true preterophiles, as the Lafferties are, and scholars who know their old tales. Perhaps genuine study that serves the Fae, telling truths it is better humans know, might be … noticed, in some small way pleasing to such natures."

"Maybe so."

I wasn't going to push, but did point out there really was a strong case for having the embassy open while the POTUS to whom a life-of-his-office-rosebush had been gifted was still in it.

"I stand to be corrected, Underhill, but it has been my impression that while there were serious concerns about whom to appoint ambassador, and doubtless other matters that are no business of mine, it has latterly been … distaste and inertia that occasion continuing delay."

"I do not disagree, Mercedes, and the point is well made." She smiled again. "You are becoming well-versed in goosing Gwyn ap Lugh. Do keep it up. And name to me Andrea Lafferty and her parents, that I may acknowledge them."

"Gladly, Underhill. Then my only other question is about the timing of any vegetation that may arrive. I will be glad to facilitate it in any way I can, but my schedule is becoming very busy."

We talked mobile trees, roses, earth fae, glamour, and carbon fixing for a while, and things that concerned me became clearer. Placing Overhill trees that had grown Underhill did not extend Underhill itself, as it was always elsewhere, but did extend her awareness to some degree, and there were enough seeds wanting to sprout that significant reforestation was available if wanted; which it would be. Closer to home, I was assured that if I greeted trees when I could, none would be offended by my not doing it sooner, and earth fae could do all that was needed. Underhill seemed to have a soft spot for them, regretting that in her nature her gardens did not need their tending, and glad better opportunities Overhill were beginning to come to them — which got us, improbably, onto steamed vegetables, and I agreed to send an aluminium steamer to Walla Walla provided a sensible troll was on the gate when the poor delivery guy or gal had to knock. We made farewells with some regret, lessened in my case by getting back to discover only moments had elapsed and I hadn't missed Andrea's call.

It came in half-an-hour later, and though she still looked distracted she grinned as she told me her father was more dazed than flattered, while her mother had been reduced to very uncharacteristic silence, but both were willing to talk, and could head home early by 6 Pacific.

"Excellent." I grinned back. "Slight change of plans, though, as I'd like to invite them to dinner here. Come by at 6 and we'll get them by cloak. Oh, and your gift is properly called a liferose, I learn." For once her jaw dropped, and I grinned again. "Gotcha. But it's all good, Andrea — I've cleared it with Gwyn ap Lugh and with Underhill for all of you."

Abruptly her eyes narrowed. "You really do want him to say yes, don't you? That's a whacking bribe, Mercy."

Taken aback, I sobered. "I do, Andrea, yes, but it's not a bribe — say rather an earnest. One part of the deal for him would be an inside track on preternatural affairs, just as one part for me, and others, is that he is a preterophile. And travel by might well be asked of him, if and when, so better to experience it now. Bringing them here serves security, which really does matter, and depending on how the conversation goes Adam's system allows calls to others whose acquaintance he would need to make. There'll be no steamrollering, I promise — if he's not willing, given the likely costs and strains, or your mom vetoes, I will accept that without demur, and some envy, frankly. God knows I understand the calculus. But I am going to give it my very best shot, because when I thought of him as a running mate my coyote brain gave a happy shiver, and I've learned to heed it closely when it does that."

Andrea had throttled back as I spoke, and slowly nodded. "OK. Sorry, Mercy, but it really is taking some getting used to. My dad's a history teacher, and my rock. He's not half of a probably winning presidential ticket!"

"Yet." She stared at me some more. "I may be beginning to enjoy dropping myself right in it, Andrea, but I'm not doing it alone."