Chapter Twenty-Five

Adam had a strong desire to lock me in the house and have the pack prowl around it, but even he conceded Marsilia would want to hear what I'd be saying before trying to kill me, so I got on with things as usual. After an assault on paperwork, I spoke to Jenny about plans. With the idea of my running in the open she'd been able to call people, and happily let me know the Boss, Bob Dylan, and Bob Weir were keen to head back to the Tri-Cities for a campaign launch, and strongly suggested I spoke to the Boss myself about Warren's campaign. A lot of names had been put forward on the website, and volunteers were doing research. Reserving billboards was under way, including Times Square, and Jenny had interesting thoughts about things I could layer in when I announced. We'd both stopped saying 'if', because counters were still blurring and confirmed donations well into eight figures. It gave me a hollow feeling but also warm and fuzzy ones at the faith people were offering.

An hour with Mary saw my diary caught up, but as I wasn't doing interviews until the allotted week was past there was less to deal with than usual — a relief which wouldn't last. She'd need an assistant and had found someone who might fit the bill, a friend of Leslie's who'd been full-time mothering for years but was looking to get back into PR work. Her file looked good, and we set up an interview for Monday.

I was saved from more paperwork by Nuthatch and Pirandella, who turned up with half-a-dozen newcomers to be introduced to Ramona and the Freed before settling into their new home on what we'd christened Earth Fae Island. They were nervy, so I offered lunch before we headed out. Baby carrots and corn made them blissfully thoughtful, and I reassured them that when I'd ordered the steamer set for Underhill — already delivered by a wide-eyed Amazon guy who told reporters the troll on the gate had been a whole lot politer than most human customers — I'd ordered another for Ramona. Then they climbed into the Cherokee, trunk lined with cotton towels, while Brent rode shotgun and wolves followed.

There were more paparazzi than usual, which didn't surprise me given the arrival of full-grown trees, and they were very unhappy. I let Honey and George on four legs, hold them off and took the earth fae straight through to the garden. Medicine Wolf was again taking up a lot of space, and from its look doing something magical, Freed around its head, talking softly to Penny. Closely spaced oaks were settling into new homes around the perimeter, and I could feel the tremble of magic. Ramona issued clear orders, and everyone stayed where they were while the newcomers looked carefully around. Then Nuthatch and Pirandella did formal introductions, Freed coming forward one at a time to sit and offer names and a warm welcome. I hadn't counted on it, but it went well enough that the new earth fae were willing to meet Penny and her crew, briefly, before slipping between oaks and vanishing. I quirked an eyebrow at Medicine Wolf.

The tunnel is done, Mercy, and I have made living space on the island. I was guiding roots to the water I have made available.

"Good to know, and my thanks."

We didn't get further because the Freed wanted to embrace me. Their need to do so had been strong for a while after Wyoming, fading as they settled and lives became busier, but my going public had stirred it up again, and with the physical contact submissives craved I got fervent wishes for luck and health. Some of it was worry about vamps and fruitcakes who might show up, but there was something more, reflecting what I'd said on air about the connection between that week of Cantrip and my campaign that ran through them. Nothing could truly compensate for what Cantrip had done, but at some deep level they had collectively decided the way their experience had given me some of my public authority and popularity was a counterweight, a genuine good arising from evil. It was humbling, and I hugged back, but we all knew we were on camera, and when the huddle broke most of them headed for the L and its pack space. Ramona stayed, watching me, and Penny came across with Dwayne the Camera and Don the Mike following.

"That was some greeting, Ms Hauptman. I expected the Freed to be strong supporters but hadn't realised how important your candidacy would be to them psychologically."

"Not for me to discuss, Ms Ligatt, though I will say the work that started with freeing them and abolishing Cantrip is far from done. Beyond that, I wouldn't wish to politicise the fine job you're doing on Living Free and Moonbound, and that's very important to them too."

"I hope so. And thank you. May I ask where the earth fae went?"

"Where do any fae go when they vanish, Ms Ligatt? Give them a chance and they'll probably talk to you some more, but moving Overhill today and meeting so many new faces has them a bit skittish."

"Fair enough." Penny shook her head. "Ramona said they, and these amazing trees, want to live Overhill for the space?"

"And the work — Underhill's gardens tend themselves, but earth fae need land to care for. The trees want space, as I understand it, but don't ask me how that works when Underhill is space, or something related."

"Un huh. And it's pure coincidence they block photography, of course."

"Not in the least, Ms Ligatt. You know there have been serious invasions of privacy here, and the trees are glad to exchange a gift of glamour for space and care. It's win-win, and I don't much care for any reasoning that says otherwise."

"I imagine not, Ms Hauptman." Penny gave a signal, Dwayne cut the camera and Don sound before she grinned and Dwayne laughed.

"Word's out snapping your house has got a whole bunch harder, Mercy, but I expect Penny'll ask about that on Wednesday. What's weirding me out is that it isn't blocking my camera."

"I asked the trees not to." Ramona clapped Dwayne on the shoulder. "You're the good guys. Those ghouls outside are really not."

"I wasn't complaining — just freaked by, what, directional glamour?"

Realisation hit Penny, her gaze swinging to me. "That's what you're going to do at Celilo Falls, isn't it? It isn't that we won't be allowed to film them — we won't be able to."

"Yup. Sacred means sacred. I told the truth in Olympia — those animals will be there, I84 and the railroad won't. I just didn't say reforestation will be surprisingly mature from the get-go and involve huorns."

"Damn." She looked at me, shaking her head. "More educational fun holding us to the straight and narrow. What about aerial photography?"

"It doesn't work at Walla Walla, and if I can make it not work at Celilo Falls, I will. But blocking cameras is the least of it. The huorns here, at my house, and in the Sacred Space are or will be full-grown, but there are a very large number of saplings available, and if they grow Overhill they will do some serious carbon capture. There's the rain-shadow to think about, but anywhere in the Basin close to any part of the river system can get irrigation from Medicine Wolf, and there's plenty of unused Western land with enough rainfall. New forests are high on my green agenda."

All the humans were staring, but Dwayne knew some ecology.

"Very large number as in tens of millions?"

"Yup. Major reforestation is the only serious plan for braking global warming. Ordinary trees would do it, but self-planting ones will do it a whole bunch faster and cheaper."

"Oh yeah. You had my vote anyway, Mercy, but that alone would win it."

"Good to know, Dwayne. Forests are more interesting than plains anyway, and magical ones will be good for everyone. Think Brocéliande, but without Merlin's tomb or the Vale of No Return."

"Right." He laughed, though Penny and Don were still staring. "Your campaign is going to be so much fun to cover."

"I hope so." Vamps aside, I meant it. "But I need a word with Medicine Wolf."

"Sure." Penny nodded. "We're only here today because Ramona called us about trees and earth fae, and I'm doing interviews all afternoon." She gave me a look. "Had it occurred to you that with you refusing interviews Caroline and I become the nearest anyone can get? How many ways can I answer what's it like to interview Ms Hauptman I ask you?"

I shrugged. "You have no obligation."

"Oh yes I do, Mercy — it's called an editor, plus station loyalty. PBS's figures will hit a new record this week."

"Glad to hear it, as to be of use."

And I was. The memory of Penny pinching most of Fox's viewers when dealing with Bostock was warm, and seeing PBS beat CNN would be almost as good. Ramona went to see them through the paparazzi, and with the garden clear of humans I let Medicine Wolf read me for a full update. It had already collected some excited reactions to Tuesday and Wednesday, so we talked Celilo Falls and campaign appearances, then got onto vamps. A threat I'd once offered Marsilia amused it, but the main thing was the probable speed of a hostile response. I knew it was guesswork but thought my instincts sound, and Stefan had agreed: maybe Bonarata would have the cool smarts to be unpredictable but the truly old tend to be creatures of strong habit, and if I got it half-way right he was going to be as off-balance as he'd been in a very long time, making SOP even more attractive. Medicine Wolf didn't know vamps well enough to have a clear sense, but promised particular vigilance as well as agreeing to stop by Sunday to meet Wiseman. Then it gave me a long look, and I knew only I heard it.

I do have one piece of news, Mercy, and though it must break soon I recognise timing might be very important for your campaign. I have been talking to my neighbour of the Mississippi Basin, and it is interested in what I have been doing. It does not mind boats, but dislikes pollution, as I do, and wonders about a trade for assistance with flood control.

The thunder in my head was the sound of the other, very large shoe dropping, thoughts tumbling with it. The Mississippi Basin drains all or part of thirty-two states and edges into Alberta and Saskatchewan. It does not have anything like the vertical fall of the Columbia, which is why the lower Mississippi looks even drunker than most meanders, but has way more total volume. And manitous were everyone's business, not just mine.

"I cannot see why not, Medicine Wolf, and this should happen anyway, regardless of elections. I would be very happy to greet this great manitou, though, to discuss some policies I would want to pursue if elected."

Which ones?

"Reforestation and bison migration. There is a lot of empty land in the western Mississippi Basin, and the plains bison once roamed."

Medicine Wolf's eyes … twinkled? And again your first thoughts are of others, not yourself. I bet my neighbour that would be so, and it will be pleased with such a response, as I am. A greeting is sensible. Its voice was laced with complex humour. We were wondering what form would be most appropriate for its manifestation.

My mind boggled. "Um … Ol' Manitou River, with dark skin?" Adam, Jesse, and I all knew and liked the song, so I didn't try to explain Show Boat. "Or would it rather be on four legs?"

Perhaps. Knowing of your concern and Elder Spirits', we did wonder about a bison-form. But anything is possible. It is only magic, after all.

"Right." I thought some more, and gave up, reverting to instinct. "It should do exactly what it wants, Medicine Wolf, but if it, or you, are asking about human politics, a dark-skinned older man would ring the loudest, most useful bells. A bison-form would be good, but the … national human meaning of the Mississippi is bound to our worst racial history. Fixing that is proving very tough, but the Mississippi Basin standing up and saying Hi, folks, I am a great manitou of colour would give things a pretty interesting whack."

Indeed. Medicine Wolf looked amused and thoughtful. This business of revealing ourselves to humans is new. First People always knew we were here, and we spoke from time to time. Second People never noticed us. I was deep among my rocks, but my neighbour was full awake, though it withdrew as the plains filled with cattle. They are boring.

I stored away Second People with a coyote swirl of pleasure. "So I can imagine. Is it, um, more placid than you?"

Not necessarily. But you are right my steeper fall makes me a little different, and we flow to very different seas. Does it matter?

"Maybe. I was thinking that political effects would depend a lot on its, ah, performance. You're a fifteen-foot dire wolf, and were seen to chew up that Yukon and eat Preskylovitch. A shy manitou of colour would not be so good. An old dark-skinned wise warrior-statesmanitou, though …"

Interest sharpened. Ah yes, that I understand. It is your television, and the perceptions of those who watch but must be made to see. I recognise some of what you say from those of the Freed who are African-American, but are there others I might read to know more?

"I can find some. Any citizen of colour knows something of what African-Americans endured here, but only they truly know it. Many First People were murdered or corralled, but in North America few were enslaved." I thought again. "Jude Fisher would be a start, and he'll be at dinner Sunday. And there are African-American wolves we should bring in on this anyway. It's not something I should be deciding."

Your scruple is proper, Mercy, but your instincts are sharp. I will be happy to read Jude Fisher, if he is willing, and there is no great hurry.

"Right. Does your neighbour have a name?"

Not that you could speak. A name will come with the form, though Ol' Manitou River may prove acceptable.

"Un huh. And, forgive me, are other manitous going to show up any time soon? Coyote said there were ones of the Colorado Basin and Great Lakes."

There are, but the manitou of the Great Lakes is very young and shy. The manitou of the Colorado Basin has withdrawn, because of the damming and reductive diversion of its waters, but I have been encouraging it to consider the Paths of Assertion and Mercy.

"And the fun never stops." A thought arrived, hard. "Will the Cascadia 'quake affect it?"

In some ways, though not to cause harm. It cannot help, being too far east, nor the manitou of the Sacramento Basin, being also yet a juvenile.

"OK. And further east? The Hudson?"

You must ask my neighbour. I do not reach that far.

"Huh." I thought New Yorkers deserved their own manitou, as well as Vanna the Troll, but Medicine Wolf wasn't for pushing, and already being exceptionally open. "I'll start warning some humans, very quietly, that the Mississippi Basin would like a word with Second People."

Have fun. Medicine Wolf managed to look bland, no mean feat for an oversize dire wolf. You have done well by me, Mercy, and your aid in changing the ways of Second People is appreciated. But I should look in on the earth fae, and have business with Beaver up the Flathead. I will watch carefully for vampire movement, and come to your house Sunday.

"Thank you, Medicine Wolf, for everything."

It vanished, and my eyes found Brent's and wolves', all looking poleaxed.

"A great manitou of the Mississippi Basin?"

"Apparently. Second People is going to have some mileage too, I'd bet."

"You could say." Brent whistled. "That's another game-changer, Mercy, and how. When the levee breaks …"

"Un huh. Or preferably doesn't, though who knows what re-engineering the lower Mississippi with manitou help will look like?" I shrugged. "Oh well. There's no helping it and it spreads the load — thirty-two more states get their own manitou to make nice with. But, all of you, don't tell anyone yet, please. I'll talk to the Man tonight, Bran and ap Lugh sooner, and no doubt it'll spread, but I don't need a distraction just now."

Brent grinned ruefully. "And I thought this job might be boring. I'll be quite melancholic when the Secret Service takes over."

I stuck out my tongue, and he laughed.

"Don't count your chickens, Brent. Adam has ideas about integrating preternatural agents, and if you don't figure in them I'll be surprised."

"I don't mind that, Mercy. Are we heading home?"

"Yup. Time to run the gauntlet again."

It took some doing, the crowd of paparazzi having swollen as word of the trees spread, and they were genuinely indignant. Even with a dozen Freed it took a while to clear the way and let Pirandella and Nuthatch dive in, and an angry shout about it being so fucking unfair grated enough that I felt my eyes go golden and was turning before I'd realised it. I wasn't wearing the cloak but rolled out enough power silence fell, and Manannán's Bane rose to point straight at the offender.

"Unfair ? From a man who spends his life harassing people famous for being appallingly victimised, that is a truly bad joke. And as the trees came of their own accord, one more such vicious inanity from any of you and I will ask Gwyn ap Lugh to rule they count as full-blooded fae, whom you have just addressed." I added dominance. "Go away, all of you, and look hard in a mirror. You gleefully insist that because you keep your grossly unethical behaviour borderline legal, there is nothing your victims can do. Wrong. Get used to it. And Ms Velasquez has some advice."

I left her telling them flatly that if they climbed any trees they should expect to die, huorns not caring for orcs, and occupied myself asking the earth fae if trees were full-bloods — which neither could see why they shouldn't be, self-propelling trees not being in the natural spectrum of flora Overhill. By the time we got home the clip had aired, and as I had to call ap Lugh to confirm arrival times I didn't delay. Fortunately, he admired the threat and agreed huorns were covered by the Accords, pointing out that fielding one as a complainant would be trickier than not, though an oakman might be persuaded on one's behalf. Ol' Manitou River sat him up though, as it did Bran, but when Coyote drifted in it turned out Elder Spirits had been watching the inter-basin colloquy for a while.

"Isn't it good to talk? And it'll be a big help with bison migration."

"Oh yeah. Reforestation, too. But there's a question."

I wanted his take on the effects of any manifestation's shape and colour, and he listened while I basted legs of lamb with fragrant marinade. Coyote broke off from an interesting memory of contacts between First People and African Americans that confirmed Faulkner.

"If those are for Sunday, why are you doing that now?"

"Yoghurt marinades are slow, and cooking will be long, but the result will be meat you could carve with a wooden spoon, never mind a metal one."

"Sounds good. Who taught you this one?"

"Supercook website. Wolves bolt it, so I can't usually be bothered."

"Typical. I'd promise to chew but it sounds like teeth won't be needed."

I gave him a look, and he grinned.

"Just savour it. Cooking time is most always longer than eating time, but three minutes of wolf yum for three days of work is irritating."

"I bet. I'd get bored, though, waiting days to eat a rabbit. And hungry."

"Yeah. Marinating on the range is a drag, but this is a good recipe. I need to change and talk to the cloak, Manannán's Bane, and Carnwennan. Greet Gordon and others if they turn up? Ap Lugh and Bran are due at 5."

"Leave it to me, deep-marinating daughter. Are there brownies?"

"In the tin. And no stealing any marinade."

"If you say so. Coyotes aren't big on yoghurt and herbs."

"Speak for yourself."

I left him laughing and depleting brownies, and went to brace myself for what I had to do next.