Chapter Forty-Two

Mornings after hunts were among the few times Adam liked to sleep in, but with a brisk kill and everything that was happening we were up at dawn. Time differences were helpful for once, because the AED was already at his desk, and had news we needed, which was better than it might have been. Seventeen vamps had been apprehended trying to cross into Canada or Mexico, and no less than five seethes, Mid-Western and Eastern, had been prevented from decamping with property. Three smaller ones had been forced by heavy fae presence to back down without loss of unlife, but the larger two had not taken it well. There were human injuries, mostly broken bones and concussion from being thrown aside, but nothing worse, though there had been eleven dismissals by Glock. Efforts had been made, but whether those had been observed by other vamps was uncertain — though Wulfe had, the AED thought, seemed surprised by the casualty ratio when he'd finally called back, less because of my email than because he'd had some awareness of multiple dismissals.

"I find him hard to read, Ms Hauptman, but I think he genuinely has been busy, not just ducking my call. He looked tired, and said your, I quote, unexpected means and potency of response made dominoes fall faster than he'd been prepared for. Would you trust that?"

"Some, AED. Magma and a midnight sun are things to make vamps panic, and the financial pressure and Italian news won't have helped. And though I have no idea how he's setting about it, I think there'd be a gap between getting a vamp or seethe to accept registration in principle, and being able to use them as enforcers. Did he say anything about Marsilia, Stefan, or Thomas Hao?"

"Only that they were busy too, but might be able to get round to helping with enforcement next week."

"They're waiting on Bonarata's next move. Can't blame them, when he translocates and knows where they are."

"That was my take, but I'll go on pushing Wulfe, and please add your weight, as you can. We're keeping a lid on news, but it can't be for very long, especially if there are further incidents."

"There might not be. Full moon is one thing, and they saw opportunity, but as news of alliance power spreads they'll have plenty of lemon to suck on. If nothing happens Friday the international stuff will blow in any case, but if you can keep that lid on this week I'd be grateful. And there will be other distractions."

"Indeed." He half-smiled. "The President relayed the highlights of your conversation, and we'll do what we can, but …"

He waggled a hand, and I nodded.

"I know, AED, but keep on keeping on, while we can, and there's a better chance it'll be alright on the night. I hope."

"Mmm. Do you know why yet?"

"Not really, except that with magic concentration is usually better than dispersal, and a lot of this is about synergies."

He shook his head. "I should have quit while I was ahead, but I'll take your word for it. Good luck today with stunning the nation yet again."

He rang off before I could stick my tongue out, but it made Adam grin. He was pleased with the photos, and the goofy ones gave him a genuine kick, though Jesse dropping anonymity — and having to make such a decision — weighed on us both. Andrea was even happier with the one I sent her, and called to tell us Frank and Rachel, if still shaken, had handled things well, letting a TV crew interview them in their beautiful garden under a clear and very full moon. Frank had spoken directly of his would-be assailant, identified as Arlo Kenton, 52, Anglo, of suburban Baltimore and a string of rehab centres, wishing him well with another round of detox and segueing to the need for a comprehensive drugs policy.

/Dad got in an excellent line about accountability and accountants as well, Mercy. But me, a wolf? Pull the other one came through loud and clear./ There was love in her voice. /He said he was proud to be human, as well as delighted to have preternatural friends. And Mom said while she really liked the wolves she knew she was happy not to have a moonbound husband. This image — and I can hear photodesks drooling — will make a really good one-two./

While she set about droolers and their bottomless pockets I used the encrypted system to send the image and selected others to Bran, Charles, and Anna, and sat back with chocolate to compose an email to a new list Mary had compiled, and an update to registered supporters. As expected it wasn't long before the system announced incoming, and I found all three on screen, Anna and Charles so poker-faced they had to be laughing and Bran looking at me with some weight.

"Mercy."

"Hi Bran, Charles, Anna. Good hunt, I hope? Ours was. And I thought the goofy shot could make a fine presidential Christmas card."

Charles was biting his cheek, and a snort escaped Anna. Bran ignored them, but sighed.

"I dare say it will, Mercy, yes, it was, and the shot you are releasing is very useful. So is the one of the pack with human kin, and I will talk to Alphas about following suit, so thank you for that. Then again, I was surprised my most urgent business in the hours before a full moon was printing out full-colour copies of James Audubon's many ducks."

"Did Skuffles say it was urgent?"

"Not in so many words, Mercy. She did however say that with Underhill, one was best advised not to delay anything, and the secret of good comedy is timing."

"Un huh. And your point is?"

"I was not unbusy."

"Nor was Skuffles. And I bet she wanted to take the book for Underhill to see, but you jibbed. And told Colin to take care of it."

"He was not unbusy, either."

"And your point is? Take it up with Skuffles if you must, Bran. I asked Nuthatch to make the entry in Uncle Mike's Book of Wagers, he asked Skuffles for escort, and when they met Underhill coming back through the Garden of Manannán's Death Skuffles ran with it productively. I did mention your Audubon when she told me Underhill was researching duck-shapes, but how many people with complete editions do I know? I'm hardly going to recommend inferior ducks to Underhill."

There was a pause.

"That is regrettably unarguable, Mercy. But you have comprehensively blindsided the Gray Lords."

"Have I? That's down to Underhill, Bran, and she gets the point."

"And that point is?"

I grinned. "Does a good joke need explaining? Underhill would have gone for a tenanted duckpond if ducks would thrive, to whack at Manannán, and it's also an apology for the statue. But I take it there was vested interest in one or more of the suggestions that didn't ring Underhill's bell."

"There was. Such a triadic completion has great magical potential. As you know full well, having appropriated it for your own ends."

"Preventing its appropriation by anyone else, most of whom have no rights in this. And honoured the second name, of Underhill's choosing, which honoured the first, of mine. I had the right, Bran, and the power. Their problem if they counted on my not using it. Who's unhappy?"

"Unhappy is not the word, Mercy. Try shocked, and in most cases baffled by your speed in this, and Underhill's immediate response."

"The exceptions being?"

"Ap Lugh and The Dagda. And your trio of trolls, who The Dagda said all thought it hilarious."

"It's about size, so The Dagda and trolls have an inside track."

There was another pause, broken when Charles cracked and let a wide, wide smile show.

"Give it up, Da. They're just unused to shock. Call it useful practice."

Anna snickered, and Bran glared at her without obvious effect.

"For you too, Bran. Mercy, it binds the triadic magic?"

"Should do, Anna. Takes it down and back in, however Underhill manages the plumbing. I have no idea what properties the triad might acquire, but leaving the third name up for grabs was not an option. Way too big a hostage to fortune."

"Right. It'll be fun finding out, and meantime, attacoyote. Bran's just grumpy because Skuffles is quite intimidating when she's being … enthusiastic."

I looked at Bran, eyebrows climbing. "You find Skuffles intimidating? That's a first."

"Intimidating is not the word either, Mercy, but Skuffles is … hard to ignore. And persistent."

"Your immunity to dominance in such a large canid form gives Da hives, Mercy." Charles grinned. "He'll get over it, and we all appreciate the need to pre-empt any fae on this. So does ap Lugh, who was surprised, but admiring. They were after our take as much as grumbling among themselves, but because they had to wait out the hunt they'd raised a little steam about coyote jokes."

"Amour propre and dignity and fae rights?"

"Pretty much."

"Then I hope you all whacked them with a stick. That was Manannán's problem with fountains as well as me, and look at him now. They should ask Underhill for her take before they worry about anyone else's."

"Ah." Bran looked thoughtful. "You … lent Underhill your accuracy?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way, Bran, but you could say. I just needed bathos to rein in what Underhill was creating as it gathered power in my image and name." A thought clicked. "But Manannán was a Gray Lord, and I did send things every kind of sideways, so they were in line on their own accounts as well as anyone susceptible to absurdly heroic statuary, the humourless, and the linear."

Bran thought about it. "Coyote sense, then, not just humour. Alright. Avoiding full moon next time you wish to slap at Gray Lords would be good."

"Timing wasn't my call, Bran, but I'll bear it in mind. And Underhill did the slapping. I grant affronting those with greedy eyes, but exercising my right is, or should be, no offence to them, and anyone who feels otherwise should think long and hard about what assumptions they're making. Vetoes on what I do by right are in short supply outside statute law, Underhill as Overhill."

"That point I had taken, Mercy, but you have enough scheduled surprises you do not need to add impromptu ones."

"Depends, Bran, and I did need. I'm sorry about bad timing, and yeah, Skuffles was a bit bumptious, I imagine, but lying low is very dull for her. And we should get an Underhill Audubon duckpond out of it, which I bet you'll like."

I left Charles and Anna laughing, and Bran resting his head on his hands. I wasn't unduly worried — grumpy Gray Lords straight after a hunt were enough to give anyone a fit of Marrokery — but did call Zee and Ariana, who both thought my duckpond wise and funny, which pleased me, and Irpa, who really did find it hilarious.

/It's beyond perfect, Mercy. And using the Book of Wagers was a fine touch. Trolls don't do commanding humility, but it's good to see./

I wasn't touching that, but did ask about the other eighty-six entries, and she laughed.

/Don't worry about sore losers. They'll get over it soon enough./

Fae soons and enoughs being variable I also called ap Lugh, who gave me a long-suffering look.

"Mercedes. Is all well?"

"You tell me, Gwyn ap Lugh. I've just had Bran bristling at me about blindsiding Gray Lords."

"Ah. Blindsiding is a little strong but your speed was not anticipated by many, nor Underhill's in accepting your decision. Nor the depth of your scorn for what the late and mostly unlamented Manannán mac Lír believed his own heroics."

"I've never liked bullies, Gwyn ap Lugh. And I hold him posthumously responsible for giant nude ice me, because however he worked through water and didn't do clothes himself, anyone who grabs a naked woman from her shower deserves some scorn as well as punitive justice."

"I have no argument, Mercedes. And however this stings those who would have liked another outcome, it is the same lesson in another key."

I wondered what he thought that lesson was, but I wasn't asking.

"A lesson from Underhill also, as you might remind any … lingering mourners."

"I already have, Mercedes. They grumbled to Bran Cornick because they dare not grumble to me any more, nor you."

I raised eyebrows. "They've got odd criteria for threat evaluation, then. Tolerance is not Bran's strongest suit."

"And so they have discovered. Fae do not get fleas, but a human might say they have several in each ear. It is not a problem, and this too shall pass." I nodded. "What will not is your triad. Really, Mercedes Elf-friend, the Untenanted Duckpond of Valorous Impossibility? Either half of that would be bad enough, and together they are … I do not believe there is a word in any language I know."

"Are they, Gwyn ap Lugh? How about apt?"

"The absurdity is … raw."

"It'll weather."

"Is that our favourite coyote-girl I hear?" Edythe skipped into view, yo-yo twirling. "Underhill is pleased with you again, as am I. It is positively unnatural. She's also taken with John James Audubon, and wishes us to obtain a complete edition. Do you have any idea how much those cost?"

"Hello, Edythe, and yes, I do. I doubt you're short of money, but by all means take it from the Borrowed Warchest, and call it a keepsake of shining Overhill where all those nice birds live."

She laughed, and ap Lugh's mouth twitched.

"I am not sure about a keepsake, but Underhill will like the courtesy, and the book. She is currently considering the strange posture of the fighting male Eiders, but will devise her own … plumage-scheme."

I knew that plate, and grinned. "Good to know, Edythe. It should be just the one duck-shape, though, whatever the posture. The middle-object is already a double."

"So we realised discussing it." Her voice became slyer. "But despite all the circles, the number of ducks you can hit with one row seems to have no limit."

"Good one, Edythe, though I'm sure it's an illusion. And a duck in the pond is worth two at a push." Her eyes glinted. "But if there really isn't a problem, Bran's disgruntlement notwithstanding, I should be about it and leave you to rustle up an Audubon."

"The grumblers annoyed Bran Cornick enough that he annoyed you?"

"More or less, Edythe, though to be fair Skuffles wanting to take his Audubon Underhill just before full moon played in. Charles and Anna weren't so bothered."

She pealed silver laughter. "Oh I do like Skuffles. Shall I ask Bran Cornick for advice on which available copy of Audubon to choose?"

I grinned. "If he's not too busy. He loves that book. Check with Charles? I didn't mean to tweak Bran's tail — that was Skuffles — and I wouldn't compound the tease."

She agreed, and I got back to the email to voters. I'd done policy highlights for the Columbia Basin, trailing reforestation, what would be happening with Celilo Falls, and the next stage of the Restoration when the John Day, McNary, Priest Rapids, and Wanapum Dams on the Columbia came down, with the Ice Harbour, Lower Monumental, and Little Goose Dams-and-Locks on the Snake. A snarky line about my rivals' unwillingness to debate gave it some zest, and I made the final part about Jesse's intranet, her decision to sacrifice anonymity, and the photo that would answer and ask many questions.

It's Jesse with Adam and me amid the pack, before Adam took them hunting last night, and if any of you know Dim Future types, ask them why they ever thought she needed rescuing from wolves. Though she isn't pack she is Adam's daughter, mine by marriage and mating, and to her the pack is not any kind of threat but a very potent guard, every one of whom would fight to the death for her. You could think of it as forty-two godparents, all with serious teeth.

But despite a visceral urge to protect her, Adam, and I, and all the pack, are willing and proud that she step forward and formally shoulder what she finds to be her duty. She's months shy of legal maturity, but no longer a kiddo or ex-kiddo. She's an adult, already wiser than many. Ask your own kiddos and ex-kiddos. And please watch for the photo and the start of clips from that intranet tomorrow — there will be other news headlining, but they will be well worth your time and attention. Promise.

Be safe and well, everyone.

I read it over, and as Jesse should be on a break fired it off to her, Adam, Andrea, and Jenny, requesting speedy approval or correction, and headed for the kitchen. The brownie tin always needed replenishing, and before that was done I had my approvals and sent the OK to Andrea to send it. Then lunch beckoned. Yoke's had a new line in peppered steak slices that Auriele said had some zing, and I'd kept a dozen back from the freezer. David, Connor, and Vinnie were on Jesse at school, reinforcing Dan and the Joes, but JJ, Travis, and Linc were here, with Jill and Brent, so when Caroline, Penny, and crews arrived I put the lot in the oven and intercepted them before they could start to set-up in the Den.

"Not today, guys. I have a statement, but so does Medicine Wolf, so we need to be out front. Yoke's steak slices for lunch in fifteen."

Penny recovered first. "Medicine Wolf has a statement? What about?"

Another wait-and-see as they trailed me to the kitchen was tempting, but uncalled for. Then again, fun was fun.

"You might want to be sitting down."

"Oh Lord, what now?" Penny dropped into a chair, others following. "Is there a problem? Cascadia?"

I served coffee and sat myself. "No problem, Penny. It's just that Medicine Wolf's neighbour of the Mississippi Basin has decided it wants a word about this and that. I'll be obliging it in St Louis on Friday, before the debate, if there is one. Or my solo show, if there isn't."

"Say what?" Al looked at the cup in his hand, and back at me. "Did you say the Mississippi Basin wants a word ?"

"Yup. Its great manitou, anyway. And several words, I'd think. 'Pollution', 'levees', and 'Oy! Stop that!' for starters."

Caroline's stare became a laugh. "A second great manitou? The Mississippi Basin covers … how many states?"

"Thirty-two. Michigan's marginal but both peninsulas sneak in, which is neat. And two Canadian provinces."

"Un huh." Her eyes narrowed. "And you knew about this before the National Committees tried their Columbia Basin exception, didn't you?"

"By a few days. Not my fault they forgot to check on manitous coming out."

"Of course it isn't. But you decided on today. And my God, Friday!" She was back to staring. "If you invite your rivals … they'll have to come, even knowing they'll be marginalised before a global audience."

"Could be. And that is my fault." I grinned. "Just not my problem."

Getting killed would be, and there might be any amount of other fallout, but so it goes. The arrival of Jill, Brent, and David's half-crew kept comments down, and so did steak slices when I dished them. Zing was right, with something behind pepper I couldn't identify but involved vinegar and had some heat of its own, and much tastier meat than mass-produced ever managed. But with coffee questions started again, and as I wouldn't pre-empt Medicine Wolf they stayed with the mousetrap I'd built for my opponents. After the sorry show in DC I'd been sufficiently irritated to angle for the political bonus, and that they were still dithering about attending upped it nicely. Demolition of the Columbia exceptionalism the main parties had tried was a given, but the secret of good comedy really was timing, and it was playing into my hands. I could have done some crowing, but there were those other contingencies about Friday, a weight I was ignoring, and silent practice at looking wise was good too.

Besides, their collective analysis was interesting. Penny and Caroline were clear the dither was paralysis, induced partly by no-one having been geared-up for TV debates, with their desperately pre-planned mix of coaching and focus opinion-polling, partly by the continuing indecision of National Committees about their positions and the gubernatorial lawsuit. There had been some of the 'briefing off the record' Beltway types use, indicating personal desires to debate waiting on party loyalty and the need to present a united front to outrageous challenge, but no-one had said anything substantive. And National Committees were deadlocked by absent leaders, fighting growing fires in home bases and leaving stubborn, bewildered old Eastern and Southern majorities to glare and fume at increasingly vociferous Western minorities with younger wings and minority ethnic blocks behind them. Labour and business interests were split, more by ecology and jobs than anything preternatural, and the gains SAGE had made at the expense of the NRA had sent shock waves through all sorts of funding structures, in any case finding donations sharply down. Adam had said clients were taking the idea of my winning seriously, and so, it seemed, were some of the ultra-wealthy bankrollers, because backing both horses in a two-horse race made less sense if both were already half-nobbled. PACs were pushing funds and lobbies that stood to lose domestically — Big Oil, Corn, and Pharma — were shouting at anyone they could, but those with more international concerns were on the fence, unclear what kind of news I was.

"You have them reeling, Mercy, and now you'll have them under the cosh. Or do I mean on the ropes?"

"Either will do, Penny. They're looking as cooked as Cantrip."

"Un huh, Caroline. Cantrip was rotten meat, and I don't think that's the problem here. Try two stags so locked in combat over who owns the central reservation they didn't notice the semi coming until its airhorn went off way too close. Deer in the headlights."

"Dibs on that."

I laughed. "You can both have it, Penny, and welcome. The party system started when the British parliament took power from royalty, and you had to have an orderly way of getting legislation through. Same for us after the War of Independence. Well and good. But parties institutionalised themselves, developing inertia and self-interests. Now they assume the federal executive and legislature, and all states', are theirs by right, whoever's on top this term. It's another interrogative. A or B. B or A. So now they're all going, there's a C?" There was laughter. "Yup, but how C will work is a big question. Core policies, sure. But anything else will be interesting. How like the old-style parties will we find we have to be to get things done? Or what better ways can we find, with magic and technology? Questions, questions."

"Which you need before you can get answers." Dwayne shrugged. "I heard what you said about parties needing to rebuild, not just clean house, but you're poaching their activists through the green vote and SAGE."

"Can't be helped. And" — I took out my phone and did some tapping — "I'm about to poach most of their governors too. Thirty-seven and three Canadian premiers are now on Mississippi manitou notice for Friday, so it's time to set up."

The Secret Service would have been happier if I'd chosen the garden, but it wasn't what I wanted, so we headed down to the oak grove. It could shimmer unphotographably behind us, and with the earth fae's attention what had been scrubland looked more like well-tended lawn, flowers blooming along eaves and the line of the creek. There was also the stretch of Columbia down which Medicine Wolf could trot, timing it so that as cameras went live they could track it in. Courteous as always, it greeted everyone, and while Caroline explained it had a statement to make, upon which mine was contingent, settled beside me, front paws extended. Cameras shifted so Al had me in tight focus and Dwayne, further back, had more than Medicine Wolf's nose on screen.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I expect you'll recall how this works. For this first part, the words I speak will not be mine, but Medicine Wolf's. It will pause to let me articulate them. Ms Taylor, Ms Ligatt, and their crews will be hearing directly, mind to mind, as will others here, but I'll be making its words audible, starting now."

Thank you, Mercy. I have something to tell everyone, but there is a context. – I am of my territory, the land of the river, and of nowhere else. – I have absolute knowledge of myself, but beyond myself I know only through report, or those with wider knowledge who allow me to read them. – Humans and most kinds of magical creature have been helpful in this, and it allows me to understand your wider society and cultures – and how those matter to beings who dwell within my territory. – But I also have neighbours, others of my kind that you call great manitous, and I have been speaking to them.

A light breeze ruffled the Columbia, fluttering the cloak and Gordon's feather. Skuffles would have told me she heard pins dropping.

The great manitou of the Colorado Basin is very withdrawn and unhappy – because of damage your dams and water extraction inflict. – I have encouraged it to consider co-operation – the Path of Mercy I find helpful and interesting – and it is thinking about it – but I strongly urge you to offer it more than a gesture or token improvement – and soon. – You truly do not want it to decide unilateral action is the necessary answer.

How much good it would do was moot, but we could try.

The better news is that my other neighbour, of the Mississippi Basin, is very interested in the Path of Mercy. – It likes to be useful, as I do, and is happy bearing boats – but as unhappy as I am with your careless and deliberate pollution of lands and waters. – It affects us and our waters harm life they should sustain, and the seas to which we deliver them. – This is not acceptable – so my neighbour wishes to talk to those of you who live within its territory – and asked me to ask Mercy to arrange it. – I did, and she has. – That is all.

I knew Medicine Wolf was amused by dropping me in it so bluntly, but cocked its head as I gave it a fisheye and turned back to the camera.

"Or not, by a distance. This is me again, everyone, Mercy Hauptman, and you heard Medicine Wolf, to whom we all owe a large debt of thanks." I turned as it leaned its great head down, and reached out to stroke the warm muzzle. "I said we lucked out with you, and we really did." I turned back to the camera. "And now other great manitous are taking note, so we need to up our game, fast. Folks on the Lower Colorado, I do understand what drives your water extraction, but it has to come down. It's killing the river, which does not mean killing the manitou, just annoying the hell out of it, literally. Understand that unilateral action by a great manitou means anything from bringing down dams to triggering any earthquake or vulcanism in reach, and who knows what else? Let's not go that way, hey? And we have a more immediate opportunity to start putting more of the nation, and planet, back to rights. A big chunk more."

I'd thought about a map, but Wiki was only ever a click away.

"Forgive me if you know this, but the Mississippi Basin is seriously big. Great manitous don't do tributaries, so we're talking the whole watershed, with the Missouri, Ohio, and the rest — Twin Cities to New Orleans and Denver to Pittsburgh. Thirty-two states are wholly or partly within the Mississippi Basin — alphabetically, that's Alabama, Arkansas, Colorado, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming — and add the Canadian provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan. I repeat, seriously big."

Learning the alphabetical list had taken effort, but the hopscotching with News, Norths, and Souths was worth it.

"And, understandably, its great manitou is not so happy with humans because we dump tens of millions of tons of nitrates, sewage, oil, and other pollutants into it, which poison everything up to and including the Gulf of Mexico. But, very luckily for us, it is willing to talk. And even better, it wants a deal involving much better pollution control in return for its help with significantly better flood control."

I let it sink in for a moment.

"Forgive me again if you already see this, but that is a Very Big Deal. The Mississippi does not have the vertical fall of the Columbia, but it has enormous volume, and when that gets past St Louis and most of it's in the main channel, telling it not to go anywhere it feels like going is not simple. Try making a major avalanche lane drive. Our current best tech for trying is called levees, and you know what happens to them, often enough, after which a lot of people are in a lot of trouble. Even a great manitou cannot alter basic topography, and water goes downhill, so when there's snowmelt or heavy rain anywhere in the Mississippi Basin that water is going downstream, and there will still be times it crests, and threatens levees, but how much easier is it going to be to combat that with the river on our side? D'oh. So while there will be people who'll say I should have waited, and I'm taking electoral advantage, I thought this one needed to be fast-tracked, not only because asking a great manitou to wait out the electoral cycle is really not sensible."

I dusted my hands and Medicine Wolf nodded.

"Now, as I'll be in St Louis Friday, and so will the Mississippi main stem, I thought we could start the ball rolling, by that nice arch they have. I have invited the governors of the thirty-two states, and the premiers of Alberta and Saskatchewan, to come be introduced to the great manitou of the river system they all more or less depend on, which has provisionally accepted the name Ol' Manitou River." I couldn't help my grin and didn't want to. "Who could resist? Anyway, I expect most of those governors are a bit taken aback, but you needn't fret, ladies and gentlemen, because two among you, Wyoming and Montana, with the premier of Alberta, already have very positive experience of basin-state co-operation with a great manitou. Those states are also partly in the Columbia Basin, which has had a Manitou Working Group for nearly eighteen months, so I've also invited other members, Idaho, Nevada, Oregon, Utah, and Washington, with the premier of British Columbia. They will advise and support manitou newbies. The President has prior commitments that day, but will be in St Louis Saturday to offer Ol' Manitou River personal greetings, and while I will not pre-empt anything he may then have to say, I know federal support for a Mississippi Basin group will be forthcoming. It's plain major conferences will be needed, with Ol' Manitou River, scientists of many sorts, governors, the Army Corps of Engineers, and major river users, so I'll also ask the Chancellor of WashU to talk to the Governor of Missouri, and host some big geophys and hydro-engineering pow-wows soon."

I offered a sunny smile.

"So relax, ladies and gentlemen. It's a surprise, but also the other shoe dropping at last. You're not on your own — anything but, as there are thirty-three of you. And it occurs to me, being a helpful coyote, that this unexpected meeting of thirty-seven basin-state governors will offer you all a splendid chance to talk about the very unhappy pickle of their own silly making those National Committees of yours are now in. You're all welcome to attend the evening's debate — or monologue — but I'll understand if you feel the time better spent elsewhere. The morning will be free, and there's always next day, but do please all think about it hard. The silence is getting deafening. In any case, I'll see you all, I hope, 2 p.m. Friday, before the Gateway to the West, and we can make a start on Comparative Manitou Studies 101. Oh, and my rivals are welcome, though I shall take a very dim view of any who come for the manitou but skip the debate."

Off-camera, Penny was going an interesting colour. Medicine Wolf dropped its jaw in a wolf-laugh.

"And two last things, because plainly this business is way bigger than anyone's campaign, and it's not going to stop in November. It has more pieces than a jigsaw — not just levees and fertilisers, but riparian protection zones, power generation, reforestation, civil engineering, dredging and dams, fishing and farming, river freight, carbon footprints, you name it. Steel in Pittsburgh, corn in Iowa, cows in Montana, rice in Louisiana, you're all affected, and so is most everything. And you know what that makes this, besides an almighty logistical headache for the President and whoever succeeds him? A golden opportunity. Ol' Manitou River offers more than assistance, which with great manitous tends to involve making the impossible a much smaller category. It also offers a focus, the river itself, as a skeleton for a better, greener, more sustainable economy, and less divided society. We have to respond to it, and if we do so positively we can and will find solutions. Maybe Big Corn does have to accept getting smaller, and not using land where nitrate fertilisers by the ton are necessary, but it's not about doing anyone down, it's about sustainability and not ripping through dwindling resources, so time to big up, Big Corn, and pay your bills falling due. Big Steel, your country needs you, but it doesn't need you skimping on discharge control, by air and water, and heavy industry needs to be as modern as we are, so you need to big up too. And all of that means looking after the people who do the work and make those big boys so big — the farmers and steelworkers, and all of you. Will jobs go or change? Oh yeah. Will you be left in the green lurch? Not if I have anything to do with it, and you should all tell your governors and state and federal representatives they'd best be on the ball as well."

I smiled again, before letting it fade.

"Further along that road would take me towards open campaigning, and a manitou is beyond that. I would and will be doing this anyway, never mind November. But there is one more thing to say, and maybe for you it speaks to character. When I first heard this news, and began to think it through, there was the sheer scale, but then there was all the history. There were a lot of First People in the Mississippi Basin before Second People came, all the cultures of Plains Amerindians and more. There still are, however diminished by what slid into attempted genocide, and all but exterminated bison. It took the US a while to swallow all the land, heading westward with a sense of Manifest Destiny, and it would have been longer if the California gold rush hadn't made for leap-frogging. The Milk, Yellowstone, Bighorn, Cheyenne, Platte, Arkansas, and Cimarron Rivers are all in there, and figure in enough stories. But so is the Ohio with the flatboat round, Pittsburgh to New Orleans, and riding back along the Natchez Trace. And then there's the history with just as much weight as all that water, that I can evoke in four words — slavery, Delta Blues, Chicago."

I took a deep breath.

"Yes, that one, the reason Paul Robeson sang 'Ol' Man River', the one we don't do so well talking about. But then, we don't do so well talking about slaughtering First People either. Nor bison. It's so much easier not thinking about historical crimes and inherited guilts. And Ol' Man River just kept rolling right along, so hey, I'm all right, Jack. Don't get me wrong. I don't absolve myself. Humans are good at shrugging and carrying on, and so are coyotes. But Ol' Manitou River just sat right up, and is saying, you know, this really can't keep rolling along the way it is. We need to fix it. And we do. It isn't my business to speak for anyone else in this, and I don't — not other First People, and certainly not African-American citizens and communities of the Mississippi Basin or anywhere else — but I hope they'll speak for themselves, and I ask you all, each and every US citizen, to think about what the Mississippi, the Ol' Man River we thought we knew, means to you, to us, and what Ol' Manitou River might mean now, and come to mean." I gave one last coyote smile. "And as I'd very much like you all to think sideways as well as deep and wide, I'll end by telling you it is a great manitou of colour, though I don't yet know what colour. We'll find out on Friday. Peace be with us all."

Even if Caroline or Penny had coherent questions I wasn't minded to play q.-and-a. yet, and they didn't seem to want to cap anything, but did manage to say they'd be covering Friday live, and imagined distribution would be global, before wishing everyone a very thoughtful day. Live lights blinked off, and Medicine Wolf nudged me with that big nose.

I believe I understand better now why humans have that phrase about playing people like fiddles. I wonder if Ol' Manitou River would prefer one of those to a guitar?