Outside, a single Chimp was eyeing the tree as if he expected to find a nest of wasps in it, his horse throwing its head up against the too-short reins. He was alone, which Polar found strange - usually, the prefect's men traveled in packs. Being outnumbered didn't do anything for the guard's attitude; the look in his eyes when they finally fell on Polar was as contemptuous as always.
Damn Chimps.
Still, it would do no good angering the fellow, so Polar ducked his head like the good citizen he was. "G'day, sir. You lookin' for something?"
The guard let his horse make a step towards Polar. "Two escaped humans, probably in the company of two Chimpanzees. The humans are males, the Chimpanzees, a man and a woman. You seen them?"
Polar scratched his chin, making a show of thinking. The horse made another step in his direction. From the corner of his eye, he saw Anto sticking his head out of the barn door.
"Nope," he said finally, "haven't seen anyone like that around here."
The Chimp urged his horse on for another step; now its nose was touching Polar's chest. Polar didn't move. It'd need more than one arrogant dimwit to chase him around in his own yard.
Anto appeared out of nowhere and set down a bucket of water before the horse; it began to shake its head so violently against its reins to reach that bucket that the Chimp finally let them go. He leaned on the pommel.
"You're sure about this? They should stick out quite a bit - two upper-class chimpanzees, fine robes, the woman has a silk scarf..."
Yes, the nice chimp lady had worn a green and yellow scarf; she had put it around Yantes' shoulders and exclaimed how brilliant it looked against her black hair. And it certainly had, Polar thought appreciatively.
"The humans have no brand, but some scarring on their chests. It's impossible to miss."
Polar heard Anto inhale and quickly said, "Told ya, we didn't see no humans around here. And no pretty chimpanzee ladies, either."
The Chimp didn't look convinced, but then they were all liars, as far as the guards were concerned. "Well, keep your eyes open. These humans are dangerous - they attacked the city council and almost blew it up."
Polar coughed to hide a smile. "Now tha's hard to believe. Humans? They can't find their own arse without an ape tellin' them where to look."
The Chimp jerked at the reins, clearly annoyed. "That's what the reports said. You don't want them humans creeping around in the woods around your farm - next thing you know, they come crawling through your window and kill you all in your sleep."
"Eh." Polar made a dismissive gesture. "We have clubs and corn knives. I'm not afraid of humans."
"Is there a reward?" Anto suddenly spoke up. The chimp turned his head as if he'd just now become aware of his presence, and Anto shrunk a bit under his stare.
"Well, now..." the soldier drawled. "You saw something your old man forgot to mention?"
Polar kept his gaze firmly on the horse. If Anto didn't use his brain now, they'd all be in trouble.
"No," Anto murmured. "I just thought I might look... if there was a reward."
The Chimp leaned down to him. "These humans are ape-killers, and anyone who helps or hides them - like these fools that travel with them - is regarded as an enemy of the state. Your reward will be your feet continuing to touch the ground, if you get my drift." He straightened up and turned his horse around, forcing the gorillas to step back to avoid a collision with its head.
"You see a stray human, report at once. Don't try to catch them on your own; leave that to apes who know how to deal with them." He spurred his mount on and galloped away.
Polar turned to Anto and cuffed him on the head. "What in the white wastes has gotten into you, son? You want us all hanged?"
"We wouldn't have gotten into trouble if you'd just told him..." Anto protested as they turned back towards the house.
"You fool!" Polar growled. "You really think the prefect would've said, 'oh, them poor Gorillas were taken hostage, it wasn't their fault'? They'd have thrown us all in jail for having them under our roof. You wanna see you poor mother in a prison cell?"
"Everyone would've asked for a reward," Anto said defensively. "It would've been more suspicious if I hadn't. And we could've used the money," he muttered. "The crop shrinks and the debts rise every year."
"Well, that's why I'm using them humans," Polar said in a conciliatory tone and put his arm around his eldest's shoulders. "The tall one looks like he can work all day, and he's docile, too. We'll get a lot more done with them. We'll work them to the limit..."
Anto shrugged off his arm. "And if a patrol sees you out in the field with him? They're not worth the trouble. We should kick them off the farm, now!"
Polar shook his head. "I offered Yuma my hearth and my help, seeing as the man is injured. An' he offered me his humans in return. We don't go back on our word here, Anto - if a man can't trust another's word, what is there to keep the world together?"
"But they're dangerous! Didn't you hear what the guard told you?"
Polar stilled, his hand at the door. "Do you really believe that story that they blew up the council house?" He chuckled.
Anto grinned against his will. "No... that would've been too good to be true..."
He had been right about the human, Polar thought, watching him hauling another boulder to the edge of the field. It was true that humans weren't as strong as apes, but they had one advantage: they could sweat, cooling their bodies like no other animal could. A human could go on when an ape was already seeking shelter under the trees. Polar thought of the huge plantations in the southern districts, where rich apes enjoyed their lazy afternoons while the humans worked tirelessly under the scorching sun. Those apes had made it - they didn't have to worry about foreclosure during sleepless nights, didn't have to worry what would become of their wives and sons in that case.
But them rich apes weren't Gorillas, either.
That same sun was burning on his black fur now, although it wasn't even noon yet, and he secretly envied the human who had thrown off his shirt an hour ago. He was sweating like a horse, his scars black lines against his reddening skin. He must've gotten dirt in the wounds before they had healed.
Polar sniffed. Those scars were striking, just as the guard had said. Well, the gent and his wife had been quite open about the fact that the law was after them, and now he had heard two different stories about the reason. The human didn't look like an ape-killer to him, but who knew? He was obedient enough, perhaps he'd kill any ape his master set him on?
Right now, though, Polar was his master, as per his deal with Yuma, and the human was doing his bidding. It was a rather pleasant feeling, and - Polar straightened and surveyed the row behind them - they were making quick progress. The field was almost ready for ploughing.
The human let the boulder fall with a thump and wiped the sweat from his face with his arm. "Rocks," he gasped, "No end to them. The earth keeps breathing them up, the plough keeps banging into a fresh stock every year."
Polar nodded. That's how it was. He wondered how a human kept by city apes would know of these things. Well, the human was at his disposal now, right?
"How do you know?" he asked.
The human set the water jug down with a sigh. "Oh, don't I know. I lifted half the rocks in Jackson County when I was a boy."
Polar shook his head. So he'd had a different master before. But that place... "You keep talkin' strange - there is no such place."
The human deflated a bit. He looked over the fields, but Polar doubted he saw Anto urging the ox on. "It's a far away place," he murmured. Then he shook his head and returned to the spot they were standing on. "That's not the best field you have there," he remarked.
Polar shrugged. "It's generous with the rock yield." The human snorted, and he grinned. "But we need it anyway. We need all the crop we can grow, even on such a poor patch of land 's this one."
The human crouched down and crumbled a bit of earth between his fingers. "Clay," he murmured, "it won't let the rain seep down quickly, and steep as this slope is," he gazed up the field, "I bet the topsoil's coming down with every strong rain, right?"
Polar nodded. "Nothing we can do about it," he muttered. "We gotta deal with what we've been given, good as we can."
"I'm sure you do," the human said. Polar tried to remember his name.
"But..." the human continued, a thoughtful look on his face, "I think there is something you can do about this field." He stood, wedged the jug between two stones and selected two smaller rocks. He carried them a few steps away to where the field made a sharp incline and set them down one over the other like steps of a stairway. Then he began to smooth the soil above and below them and returned for the water jug. Intrigued, Polar came over to his little installation.
"Look," the human said. "This is what happens to your field as it's now." He poured the water on the soil beside the stones, and it hurried down, as water on a hill is wont to do, creating a miniature river bed.
"See? You're getting gullies, and over time they get so deep that they steal your land... because you have to work around them. Now-" the human hastily put up a hand to keep Polar from telling him that he knew all that, of course, "if you use those rocks that this field is giving you anyway, and build some walls across the slope, like this, then you have a gentler incline between them, and the crown of the wall will break the water, like a basin." He demonstrated. The water ran down, but not as quickly as before, pooling behind the stone before spilling over, even slower now than on the upper portion.
"You won't lose your topsoil anymore, and the field will keep the water longer, so your crop can endure dry periods better, too." He looked up expectantly, waiting for Polar's approval.
Polar stared down at the miniature fields, the upper one still keeping some of the water, the lower soaking slowly, with no gullies forming anywhere. He could see it working, and he could see the logic in the human's claim that the soil would keep the water for the dry spells like a good wife kept her pantry stocked.
What he couldn't see was why anyone hadn't thought of this before.
"Playing in the mud? Is that your idea of helping us?"
The human startled and Polar looked up, surprised. Neither of them had heard Anto coming up to them. Now he was staring down at the human's model field, a mixture of scorn and anger in his eyes.
"Now, Anto," Polar said excitedly, "this human - what's your name again? - this human just had a fine idea how to keep the rain from flushing away the soil..."
Anto snorted. "He's just too lazy to carry the rocks off the field. He wants to convince you that we should just let them lie where they are." He kicked against the lower rock and the water rushed down in one go.
"Building a wall is even more work than just piling up rocks at the side of the field," the human protested. "But it's worth it - believe me, the field will be much more productive once it's banked up properly."
Anto sneered down at him. "Building that crap will take all spring - by the time we're finished, sowing season will be over. That means this field will lie fallow, and we'll be even more behind with paying our dues than we already are."
"There are lots of crops that grow quickly," the human pointed out. "Beans, sweet corn, summer squash..."
"Foolishness," Anto snapped. "You want to tell me how to farm, human? Perhaps I should ask our ox how to make hay, hm?"
The human fell silent; Anto straightened and glanced at his father. "You're not seriously thinking about this, pa?"
Polar was still eyeing the human's setup. Then he looked up to meet his son's incredulous stare. "I have decided," he said. "We will build that wall."
Anto threw his hands up in despair. "Do what you will, but I won't have any part in this! Someone on this farm has to make sure we have something to eat next winter!" He turned and stomped away, muttering under his breath. Polar looked down at his human who was collecting the rocks, his head down.
"He'll come around," he said soothingly. "It's just because he's so worried about his calf."
The human nodded, not looking up. Polar sought for a way to turn his thoughts away from Anto.
"So - what's your name again?"
"Alan."
"So, Alan, where did you learn all this?"
The hu... Alan tossed the rocks back on the pile and smiled wistfully. "My family owned a farm when I was a boy... they insisted on farming the old way..." His smile faded. "Didn't do them any good, in the end." He turned to retrieve the water jug. Polar put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
"Now, I can see how that idea of yours holds some promise," he said in a stern voice, "but don't you lie to me, Alan! Humans don't own farms; only apes do. I won't have you runnin' around, tellin' wild stories like that!"
Alan gave him a resigned look and nodded. Polar patted his shoulder before he let go.
"Now, get to work!" He gestured down the field. "The sooner we start, the sooner we can sow."
There were some life choices that Burke wasn't happy with in hindsight - such as not asking out Karen Lawrence in eighth grade - but not becoming a farmer wasn't one of them. He would never understand the glint in Virdon's eye whenever he mentioned the farm he grew up on, although he was grateful that at least one of them could find his way around here; without Virdon's crash course about rail fences before Polar had shoved him out the door, he would've had to build the thing after the boy's instructions, and probably gotten a beating for the result in the evening.
Oh yes, and not having children was the other life choice he didn't regret. The little master didn't carry a single log, but was under his feet constantly, haranguing him about how to go about his work. Burke did his best to ignore him.
Until Remo stepped into his path, grabbed the logs he was carrying over to the posts, and threw them to the ground.
"No... no! You're doing it wrong! Stop!" He drew himself up to his whole height (which wasn't very much). "I order you to stop!"
Burke rubbed his face and fought to get his irritation under control. The little guy was enjoying his new status as slave owner a bit too much for his taste. Still, he had to play along. So he tried to reason with the boy.
"Look... boss, I can't work with you shouting at me all the time, see?" He gestured at his head. "Makes me all dizzy."
The boy pointed to the fence he had been building all afternoon, clearly upset. "That's the wrong kind of fence!"
Burke sighed. He was sure that it was exactly the kind of fence Virdon had described to him. He dimly remembered seeing that kind of fence during the only holiday they had spent outside Jersey City when he was a boy. They had looked about the same. He had no idea what the little jerk was objecting to.
"Well, give me a bale of barbed wire, and I'll build you a proper one," he said, secretly amused about the confused look from the kid when he translated the term into their language. "Right now, this is the best I can do."
Remo sighed theatrically and threw his hands up in the air. Then he grabbed Burke's wrist and dragged him behind the main house. He pointed with a grand gesture.
"This is a proper fence!" He walked over to the wattle fence surrounding what Burke supposed was Yantes' kitchen garden, and shook one of the poles for illustration.
"Poles stuck in the earth! And thinner branches woven between them! That's how you make a fence!" He let go of the pole and stared at Burke, expecting him to bow down to his superior engineering skills. Burke ambled over to the fence and leaned against it, causing it to angle inward at a dangerous degree. Remo pulled him away, alarmed and annoyed.
"See?" Burke said. "This fence is perfect to keep the chickens out of your mom's garden, but if ol' Bessie leans against it only once, it'll be down in the mud, and your cow will be all over the place."
Remo shrugged, still annoyed at Burke's demonstration. "Fences never last long," he said. "They're not supposed to."
Bure pointed at him. "That's where you're wrong, boss. Let me show you how." He started back to his beautiful rail fence, a grumbling Remo in tow. Burke bent down and shook a lower rail.
"Now take a rail fence like this - locked tight, bull strong - lasts a lifetime, and is pleasing to the eye." He felt like a traveling salesman.
By the look on Remo's face, the boy still wasn't convinced. Burke tried another angle.
"For instance... if you ever wanna move it... say, Polar wants it over there," he pointed to the far end of the field, "you just take it apart and put it together again." He pulled out the top rail and handed it to Remo, who was so surprised that he took it. Burke spread his arms like a magician who had just dazzled his audience with an especially amazing trick. "Voilà! This fence will grow on you, promise!"
Remo looked down at the log in his arms. "That's... neat."
"Isn't it," Burke drawled.
The boy looked up to him. "I've decided," he proclaimed. "It's a good job."
Burke bowed. "Thank you, boss."
Remo dropped the log. "Get back at it."
Burke sighed. "Yes, boss." He bent down and put the log back in its place. Remo tagged along as he wearily returned to the pile of split logs. The sun was still far above the horizon.
"Who taught you to build a fence like that?" Remo demanded to know as Burke lifted a log, then decided to add another one... barely. He straightened with a little 'oomph'.
Well, technically Virdon had told him, but...
"Abraham Lincoln."
Remo thoughtfully kicked at a pebble as they returned to the now approved fence. "I'd like to meet this ape... Raham Lincoln."
Burke rolled his eyes heavenward. "So would I, massa... so would I!"
The sun had already set and the air was cooling quickly when Virdon returned to the farmhouse, caked with a mixture of sweat and dust, and glad for the opportunity to clean himself up, even if the water in the well was icy.
Burke had already stripped down; he gasped and shivered as he poured the bucket over his head. "Maybe tomorrow they can turn on the hot water..." He shook the water out of his hair and handed the empty bucket to Virdon, who stiffly took it.
"What did Polar make you do?" Burke asked him. "Pull the plough?"
Virdon drew up the bucket with a groan. "We're terracing that field on the hillside," he said. "Polar hauled the boulders for the wall, and I've been digging ditches for drainage all afternoon." He scooped water into his face and sighed with relief.
"Now where did ol' Polar suddenly get the idea of building terraces all over his field?" Burke asked with raised brows.
Virdon grinned wryly and held up a hand. "Guilty as charged."
Burke grabbed his shirt. "Just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished. You sure work for your keep, Al."
"They're hiding us from Urko's patrols. I felt I had to give something back for that. They need a bit of agricultural development if they want to keep the farm." Virdon shrugged out of his shirt and trousers and poured the bucket over himself just like Burke had a minute ago.
"That bad, huh?" Burke yawned and glanced towards the house. "Think we'll get dinner now? We've earned it, right?"
The icy water took Virdon's breath away, and for several moments, he could only cough and sputter.
"Yeah," he said hoarsely when he had caught his breath again. "They've been on the brink of foreclosure for years, and Anto is eager to break away from the farm before he goes under with it."
Burke rolled his eyes. "The bull calf."
Virdon grinned. By now, they were both fed up with Anto and his calf. "Apparently, as long as he can present a bull calf, he is entitled to get a patch of land from the district, which he then has to pay off over the years. Apes with good connections get the better plots and are able to pay off their debts in a few years. Apes without good connections..." He gestured towards the rocky fields.
"Seems like a crummy deal," Burke said absently, his mind clearly focused on more pressing concerns. "If I don't get something to eat soon, I'll climb through the kitchen window and steal something. Sure, I'd confirm all the prejudices against humans, but dammit..."
The door of the main house flung open and Remo came towards them, bent like tree in a storm under the weight of the bucket he was carrying. "Come on, you two," he called. "Aren't you hungry?" He vanished into the barn.
The men exchanged a look. Burke clicked his tongue and shook his head. "C'mon Al - feeding time. Better hurry before Bessie eats our dinner."
Remo met them when they entered the barn, already on his way out. "Don't go near the cow," he droned, his tone indicating that he was relaying a message from Anto.
"Sure thing, boss," Burke said. He turned towards the door as they heard a bolt scraping into place. "Seems we're suddenly valuable enough to be locked in at night." He pointed his thumb at it.
Virdon was already staring down into the bucket. "It looks like porridge," he said doubtfully.
Burke stuck his hand in - no spoons for animals, apparently - and licked it off.
"It is porridge," he said. "No sugar, though."
They hunkered down and began to scrape out the stuff with their hands. It was a sorry meal, but by now, they would've eaten from the floor.
"Well, it's... hearty, and... good for digestion... I guess..." Burke joked. "Think they hid some treats at the bottom?"
But Virdon wasn't in the mood to join his banter, and after a while, Burke ran out of jokes, too.
"What do you mean, you lost them? How can scores of apes on horseback lose four people on foot?" Prefect Taito slammed his hand on his desk and every man in the room winced. The chief of the prefecture's police, on the other hand, just leaned back in his chair and let his gaze travel over his subordinates.
Bootlickers, the lot of you.
It filled Bela with grim amusement that the demonstrations of submission didn't help to mollify the prefect's mood this time.
Taito stood with a sudden jerk, toppling his chair. "Our orders were clear and not that difficult to implement, if I'm not mistaken?" He strode over to the map of the district hanging at the wall and banged an angry fist against it.
"This prefecture is farmland, people! Fields, tenant farms, a few plantations... miles and miles of open land! And you're telling me they went up in smoke? Vanished down a rabbit hole? This is unacceptable! Bela!"
"We've been at every farm and on every road, prefect," Bela said slowly, careful not to let his true feelings show on his face or in his voice. Taito was one of the sharp young prefects that had supplanted the old guard almost in one fell sweep during the last two years; he had heard rumours that they had been personally selected by general Urko himself. People like Taito had to be treated with caution. "Maybe they just took another route, through one of the neighbouring prefectures..."
"And if they didn't?" Taito snapped. "Do you want to explain to the general how humans managed to slip through our cordons?"
"You say that as if no human had ever managed that before," a deep voice rumbled from the last row. The dissenter wasn't hard to spot, the only Gorilla in a crowd of Chimpanzees. Unfortunately for Taito, Bela mused, he wasn't one of those Gorillas whose opinion you could ignore. Yuba was one of the best trackers in Taito's prefecture. He knew it, Taito knew it, and Yuba knew that he knew it.
This time, however, the prefect chose to ignore Yuba's comment. "The map has been overlaid with a grid," he addressed the rest of them. "Chief Bela will assign you to your grid square, and you will turn over every stone and every leaf and you won't come back until you have them. Ask the farmers again, ask them three and four times, I don't care."
"It's not all farms an' fields, y'know?" Yuba pointed out. He nodded towards the map. "There's also miles and miles of woodland in those hills, where one can lie low and watch the lads fall over each other in the underbrush." He folded his hands over his belly. "'m not saying we're not going in, but you hafta understand: you've got hundreds of square miles of forest, and you don't want us to find a rabbit - you want us to find the rabbit."
Taito leaned on his desk and smiled. "I want you to find me four rabbits - and I'm sure you're up to it, Yuba. Everyone knows you're the district's best tracker."
The Gorilla laughed. "Oh, did I get a promotion? 'n here I thought I was just the prefecture's best tracker. Well." He rose. "I won't promise you anything, prefect. I'm a hunter, not a magician - I don't pull them rabbits out of my arse." He stopped in the door. "But if they're still around, I'll find them."
"Well, you heard our Gorilla friend," Taito said with a grimace after Yuba had left. "I hope you'll defend our Chimpanzee honor and won't let him come home with those human hides slung over his shoulder. Because in that case I'd have to demote the lot of you. Dismissed."
Bela rose with the rest of them, already assembling the teams in his mind. That fishing trip with his youngest just would have to get postponed for a few days... maybe a week...
"A word, Bela." Taito was demonstratively studying the map, hands clasped behind his back.
Bela waited while the rest of the apes filed out of the room, ignoring the curious glances thrown in his direction.
"Close the door," the prefect ordered when the last officer had left the room, without taking his eyes off the map. He didn't turn around even then, staring at the map as if he could find the humans there.
"I didn't want to discuss this in front of your men, but this isn't just your usual manhunt, Bela." Taito brushed the painted canvas with his fingertips. "These humans' handlers are enemies of the state. This is political." He finally turned around to face him. "Do you know what that means?"
It means I'll keep my head down and my mouth shut, Bela thought. And maybe my eyes, too. The combination of "political" and "Urko" reminded him too much of that cursed campaign fifteen years ago.
Bela had a wife and kids now. He'd leave politics to apes like Taito - young, ambitious fools who dreamed of a swift rise to glory and power. They'd learn soon enough that following Urko was a swift descent into a nightmare of fire and blood.
Sometimes he still dreamed of that campaign.
Taito didn't wait for his answer. "It means you'll do your utmost to find those apes, Bela. Find them and bring them to me, and I'll make sure to mention your name to Urko."
Bela put on his helmet. "Now there's some incentive."