6. Here Be Dragons, and Tatami Matting
WITH the election suddenly due next November people started asking me what sort of campaign I'd be running this time. Not having any answers I stalled, and after Easter, when the media began to tell me more insistently that the electoral cycle really ought to start running hot, I had a coyote moment and refused very publicly to campaign, there being no point I could see and the carbon footprint enormous. Citizens knew perfectly well who I was and what they would or wouldn't be voting for, and what did anyone expect me to say that I hadn't already? Nearer the time I would support my slate-independents, and sure, rivals were entitled to debates, so if some declared they could have one, but meantime I had better things to do than waste a lot of taxpayers' money and my time.
Adam didn't stop laughing for a week, and only advertising people were unhappy, though state and local races began to take up some of their slack. The media allowed that I was continuing to campaign differently, as promised if not as expected, and my only concern was turnout, with resultant degrees of political clout, but all sorts of people with the ex-kiddos network were happily taking care of that. The idea of voting as a duty as well as a right and privilege had gained a fair bit of traction, but a team Andrea put together had the database of my ten-buck voters, and awareness was reinforced with hashtags that made me cringe (#VotingOrders, #ElectionDues, #MoreMercy) but seemed to be working. There would be a nationwide carpet of events to push registration and get out the vote, with Election Day-and-Night parties around what promised to be a stonking gig broadcast from Sacajawea SP. And as no-one else had yet declared, main-party rumps deciding to spend limited money only on races they thought they might win, debates stayed moot.
Garnering second-term policy ideas was another matter, governors of all stripes agreeing to arrange six regional conferences in the Fall to spur thought and consider problems. I would attend with appropriate staffs, so that was alright, but though I can't say I was at a loose end I found myself for the first time feeling short of satisfyingly presidential things to do. Much was in motion, from the Columbia Restoration to proliferating geothermal taps, a now very substantial shift from road to river-freight with interesting cultural effects, buffalo heading south to places they hadn't been seen since the 1870s, integrated SAR, and the green lurch all over. But it all had momentum, my Independents pushing hard at local and state levels, and did not need counterproductive micromanagement, so I needed to let them all get on with it.
Frank was much busier, pushing the Magical Entente and Others 101 everywhere, not only because the path started over with every new first grade. What was preternaturally practical had been shifting fast, and excursions to see, or with older kids peacefully enter the Longwoods to camp in strictly designated places, were developing nationwide. I happily lent my presence where it would help, but presidential visits unavoidably disrupt and after a while I decided occasionally dropping in unannounced on a campfire — deadwood only, or else — was a better bet. Adam and Jesse liked coming with me, as much for the atmosphere of Big Magical Woods as groups of very happily thrilled fourth to eighth graders, their nervy teachers, and Buffalo Ranger guides, a really interesting bunch. It also proved useful because on an early visit some pixies and brownies warily introduced themselves, and it turned out many places in the Longwoods already had resident earth fae, looking out for trees as well as armed trespassers and passing on news in return for space to grow vegetables. I was happy for the trees, and well-informed earth fae were a good match for curious kids as well as nervy teachers, so that was better than alright, and yet another thing I didn't need to worry about.
Even mundane presidential SOP was in some abeyance, time having been automatically allotted for campaigning I wasn't doing, and lack of organised opposition in Congress making for a political tickover Jeremiah and Irpa herded along. There were running green-tech decisions I was auditing, but scientific consensus was strong, finance in place and easing as power-costs fell; and I had people harnessing the resulting business windfall into harder self-greening, backed by dire threats of draconian legislation if necessary — all new power plants being federal and a business-rate hike needing only a presidential directive. I did human-interest stuff, visiting places or receiving folks at the Paramount Tipi, including First People and others who'd done good work for bison, Duckpond Fund scholars, various first responders, and lots of my Independents for photo-ops. Having more cooking-time was a happy bonus, and the pack got some benefit meals, but in DC I couldn't invade the kitchens too often. Longer workouts and joining a full-moon hunt or three were also welcome, but I still had a sense of twiddling thumbs, and reluctantly conceded to Adam that I seemed to be permanently waiting for a second shoe to drop without knowing what the first had been.
Some of it was a presidential norm, and some what I called a severe heroic hangover, making Adam snort, but he agreed things had gone quiet, though whether in shock or anticipation he wasn't sure. There was also a now familiar combination of liking whacking problems with large magical sticks while knowing it was not wise to do so without pressing need. Adam agreed being given thunderbolts had not helped, but thought that power and always hitting things thrown at me clean out of the park had scared off any wannabe pitchers. I gave him a look and he grinned.
"Face it, love. Cantrip you killed with bare hands. For Bonarata you drew Excalibur from better than 1200 miles away. And for the Navigator you produced a three-ton rock moving so fast it was blurred even at 850 frames per second. You've given even fruitcakes pause, love, never mind physicists."
"Don't remind me."
Nature didn't often go viral, but a piece by Georgetown U. physicists analysing the momentum of the Navigator and energy released in the explosion had put general crogglement on a solid footing that interested many and neither Charles or Adam had let me ignore. Stopping the SUV dead had not in itself been truly draining, however hunger had snarled, but the energy needed to halt what they reckoned at not less than 7500 pounds doing about 64 mph (the uncertainty was about transfer to the wrecked police car, though they had its weight and measured its trajectory) was to the head-scratching authors just as profoundly astonishing as containing far more energy with the thunderbolt's coherent strength in expansion. Their maths had Darryl frowning, but a final calculation suggested Skuffles and I had for four consecutive seconds considerably exceeded the peak output of the power station that supplied metro DC. In public I'd said only that it had felt like it, and once was quite enough, thank you, but I hadn't been able to stop Georgetown U. and a local residents' association commissioning a statue of me + pre-explosion thunderbolt, for which Jesse was still trying to persuade me to sit. Given the weight-loss I'd suffered Charles and others thought any accurate measure of magical power useful, and Irpa confirmed that when she'd said I had the juice to use thunderbolts the magic of cancelled momenta had been well within her ballpark, though not the demands of the explosion.
"I was expecting you to squish something, not unsquish it. My bad, but really." Large shoulders shrugged. "Your power is distributed in Skuffles and your artefacts, Mercy, but it adds right up and has a conduit Underhill, so as you use it all just fine when you need to you must know what you're doing, however you can't always articulate it so well. Or just don't want to. I've never been sure."
"Pass." I sighed. "Some of both, I think, though if anyone asked earth, air, and fire for reinforcements it was one or more of the artefacts, not me. I wouldn't have presumed. But I'm not sure about thunderbolting, even now — it was always a godly power, and despite everything using one of those just sits wrong. So while I'm happy for Herne and the Hunt I'd like any further outings to be … more mundane sounds silly, but nasty criminals or whatever, not national crises."
"Mmm. They've been wondering, and quite fancy being back in business on the Paths of Assertion and Mercy, but someone with pure and righteous anger has to call their justice down. ID by name isn't essential, but makes things easier."
"Interesting. Let's try open serial-killer cases, then. Hard to object there, and some Feebs are driven by pure rage, however it's professionally harnessed. But that might turn up some black witches or wizards. What happens if the Hunt goes after one of those?"
A troll hand waggled back at me. "Depends. Strongest ones could probably evade the Hunt's spell for a while, and might divert it to any humans involved in the guilt. The rest are toast like anything else but if they're being taken alive containment will be needed."
"Can the Hounds take harm?"
"Not permanently, though black witchcraft is always unpleasant and often painful. And they cannot be enslaved by it, in their natures."
"Good to know. In any case, float a designated FBI caller-down with some protocol for selecting cases? And I'll talk to the AED and the Farouts' witch people, and find out what's needed to delegate deputising the Hunt properly each time."
"Surely, and I'd think Herne will go for that happily. But you want it sub-presidential?"
"Oh yeah, Irpa. I'm happy to throw a reception annually — we can have a Hunt Ball — but I am done with legendary vengeance for a while. Dues paid in full, this term at least."
A Hunt Ball was thought another fine idea, and as the Hunt's traditions were very much about the powerless in desperation, not as an adjunct of established power, making events in Georgetown a notable exception turning on a direct threat to an Elf-friend and two holders of life-roses was useful PR, while the FBI were as into setting them on serial killers as you'd imagine. I was quite looking forward to whatever might be agreed when I learned that Gwyn ap Lugh had requested a formal private meeting, wondered what the problem was, and shortly found myself in deep left field, even by coyote standards.
He came with Baba Yaga, as ambassador, and though polite, as always, brought a high sense of formality with him into the Oval Office. I offered hot drinks to go with my own chocolate but they declined, ap Lugh looking distinctly austere before giving me a faint smile.
"Mercedes Elf-friend, the protocol is because I am here to pass on a formal request for aid. The only obligation is on us, to pass it on, and I requested the privacy so you are not pressured by others, but I will add that we would be most glad if you can find a way of assisting those who ask."
I took a deep breath. "So noted, Gwyn ap Lugh. A formal request from whom?"
"The four orders of dragons."
There was a silence I let stretch a little while I swallowed surprise.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like some tea or coffee? I suspect this may take a while."
It did, but with Baba Yaga taking point, as apparently better acquainted, I learned that we were talking Chinese elemental dragons, not the Beowulf kind that burn things, eat people, and lie about between meals on large heaps of gold, which was a relief; that to the Fae they were acknowledged as cousins of some strange kind, but could not in their nature go Underhill because they were, like Elder Spirits, rooted both Overhill and in some spirit dimension of their own; that while all four kinds could fly, or equivalent, the water and earth varieties weren't so keen; and that having been, like so many beings, driven by human encroachment into more and more marginal land, there were families of all four orders looking to emigrate who had heard about the Longwoods. At that point my questions became more pointed, but while they were predators their dual inhabitation of material and spirit worlds meant they didn't eat anything like as much as you'd think, and it was mostly small creatures, fish and shellfish, and for the fiery variety, oddly, insects. They wouldn't harm anything larger, unless attacked, were very eco-conscious, and fae enough to keep oaths absolutely.
"Well, that's all good, Gwyn ap Lugh, Baba Yaga, and while there are others whose consent is needed — Ol' Manitou River, Elder Spirits, and First People, primarily — I imagine that will be forthcoming. I notice, though, that you have not said anything about any connection between these orders of dragons and the elements to which I have a conduit."
Ap Lugh gave one of his elegant shrugs and Baba Yaga waggled a hand.
"That we have been debating, Mercedes. Plainly there must be one, but you have dealt with the elements more closely and recently than any other."
"Maybe so, Baba Yaga, but dragons are new to me. Some history would not be amiss."
I got more shrugs, and ap Lugh leaned back.
"All I can aver is that the elements and the dragons are both older than any living fae, and what the nature of their relation might be is beyond our ken. We acknowledge the relationship we perceive, but have had only occasional dealings with the dragons, and until this departure the last of those was long ago. It is plainly probable that your contact with the elements is a moving factor, but how so we cannot say." I got an ap Lugh look. "But by all means sleep in the Garden of Manannán's Death if you wish. Any dreams you have there will be a better guide than anything we might say. And there is a further element to the problem, I regret to say, for if the dragons could come directly I suspect they would have done so, but while all orders can fly, none can fly over salt water."
I blinked. "Dragons are allergic to oceans?"
Baba Yaga grinned. "More or less. Water dragons are of the fresh kind, and you know salt has many magical properties."
As it crumbled both dead newbie vamps and (Coyote said) wendigos, I did, and frowned.
"Huh. Alright. How big are the dragons who want to come? Or … how much space do the would-be travellers need?"
The shrugging returned.
"Of varying sizes, Mercedes, and quite a lot, I would imagine. We convey the request in large part because we cannot aid them ourselves. If they could use Underhill, they would be permitted to do so."
"And huh again. Do they have problems with metal?"
"Not as the Fae do, but they have an aversion not unlike that of Elder Spirits, so any prolonged contact would probably be unwise."
"Un huh." Elder Spirits used metal when they had to, but their animal kinds being fairly averse it wasn't a favourite thing, except for Wolf and his Japanese swords, and that was aesthetics. "And do you have any suggestion as to how any necessary transport might be provided?"
"I'm afraid not, Mercedes. Nor did the dragons, but they expressed some faith that you would be able to think of something."
I gave ap Lugh as fishy an eye as I've ever managed, and with a deep breath told them I would make necessary consultations and, assuming no insurmountable objections arose, consider the problem. I would also be glad if they were to stay available to answer questions, as a considerable number were going to be asked, not least by Ol' Manitou River, and might they perhaps seek out the manitou while I set other balls rolling? Ap Lugh agreed they might, and I saw them both out before doing a certain amount of stomping on my way back to the Oval Office. Dragons, yet.
Then again, a pleasantly absurd idea had popped into my head, that might actually work and promised some amusement, so by the time I was able to tell Adam what had been asked, in the private apartments, I had regained some equilibrium. He was just as croggled as I'd been, but the idea of resident dragons had some serious upsides, despite all the problems, and when I told him my absurd idea he got the look in his eye I'd expected, and with Jesse tied up on campus all evening we took ourselves to bed.
Once I'd cleared the urgents from my morning desk I did some harder thinking about procedures, shuffled my diary a little to clear space, and during an afternoon break put in a call to Ol' Manitou River.
"You've seen Gwyn ap Lugh?"
I have, Mercy, and all four orders of dragons sound more fun than not. The mini-manitous agree, so we have no problem in welcoming these creatures so long as they live harmoniously with all that is already present in the Longwoods.
"Good to know, thanks. Are dragons new to you?"
They are, but from what I could read from Gwyn ap Lugh I believe they are not wholly unlike Elder Spirits, inhabiting two realms though in a distinct manner.
"You read Gwyn ap Lugh?"
Not as I have read you, but he offered me what he knew, as did Baba Yaga. The mindvoice became thoughtful. It was interesting, for the Fae seem at once surprised, the dragons' request being wholly unexpected, yet also unsurprised that something further should happen involving you and the elements.
"Un huh. I noticed that myself. Go figure. But I'll get back to you once I've had a nice long nap in the Garden of Manannán's Death."
That was now top of my agenda, and not wanting to presume on Underhill any more than I had to it seemed easiest to combine it with actual sleep, so with apologies to my special squad and a promise to stay inside next day Adam and I went to the Garden of Manannán's Death soon after we'd eaten that evening. I was unsurprised to find Underhill waiting, but had not expected her slightly rueful tone as she greeted us and we sat on wooden benches that as ever felt a great deal more comfortable than one would expect.
"I regret our need to impose on you the dragons' request, Mercedes Elf-friend, but we could not ignore them in their need."
"I would not expect you to, Underhill, and presidents as much as Elf-friends are there to be called on in such need. And from what I have so far learned of them, I have no objection to any of the orders of dragons. It is only that in introducing new and powerful magical beings to a young magical environment that already contains much it behoves me to have some idea of what I'm doing."
"Indeed." Colours turned in her eyes. "Yet there are matters here beyond our knowing, as beyond yours. As Gwyn ap Lugh told you, the dragons and elements are older than we, and while I rest on those elements, and am in great measure of them, I do not contain them, nor direct them."
Beside me Adam shifted a little.
"Forgive me if it is a foolish question, Underhill, but may I ask about the … nature of the elements? Human science now uses that term for atoms of differing weights and make-ups, and there is for some a … dissonance in using it for earth, air, fire, and water."
"I hear no foolishness in that, Adam Hauptman, and you are correct that the four elements are not distinct as, say, gold and diamond are. Say rather that they are states in which the materials of the world may be — solid, ethereal, fluid, and in conflagration. And though I cannot aver it, I believe those states were and are sufficiently real for the interactions of matter and magic to generate the elements as I know them." She waggled a hand in the human gesture. "It may be that it was not unlike the way great manitous arise, from divisions of the land as much perceived as they are real."
"Huh. That's interesting. The four elements as emergent properties of common interactions between what we now call elements makes sense to me, Adam." I shrugged. "In so far as there is sense to be made. But that's not what bothers me, Underhill. As President I have an absolute obligation to think ahead as well as sideways, and I have been wondering if the dragons' request is … only what it seems, or if it has an element of … strategy — a move upon which a further move may depend."
It was Underhill's turn to shrug. "I understand your asking, Mercedes, but can only aver that I know of no purpose in this request beyond itself." She looked thoughtful. "And I am not sure the elements consider such things as strategy. They simply are."
"Un huh. And the dragons? Beyond a strategy to emigrate, I mean."
"Who knows save the dragons themselves? But by all means ask the elements of them as you dream here." She looked at Adam. "Would you share your mate's dreams this night, Adam Hauptman?"
Adam blinked. "If I may, Underhill, I would be glad to do so, though understanding such things is not my strength."
"Maybe not, yet dreams are for all. Make sure the cloak covers you both and I shall ask it of the elements." She rose. "Sleep well. None shall disturb you here." A flashing smile. "Save Skuffles perhaps, who comes and goes as she will."
"Tell me, Underhill, but she's busy talking to Elder Spirits and some chiefs on my behalf. I don't think they'll mind Longwoods dragons either, but it would be rude to assume."
"Indeed. As Skuffles is hard to refuse."
She moved off among the roses, vanishing, and Adam and I looked at one another before we both shrugged.
"So how does this work, love?"
"Don't ask me, but if we treat the bench as a bed it'll feel like one."
I got a quizzical look, but when we did, it did, and I'd no sooner spread the cloak over us than sleep claimed us both, hard, and the dreams came at once. I was aware of Adam only as a sensed presence but the elements were … I don't know about clearer, but closer, or deeper, or something, and certainly more responsive. I got the impression that dragons were forms their magic expressed before it learned to express Underhill, as well as a deep and soothing conviction that dragons were of their four orders and so intrinsically in balance, wherever they might be. Timing was a trickier concept, but it did seem that the dragons had asked them to alert Underhill, and there was no sense of intent in the asking beyond what amounted to the desire of the Longwoods trees themselves, space to grow and fruit. It was tricky, because I don't think the elements quite understood wanting to be in one place rather than another, or perhaps they just thought equally well of the Tibetan plateau and Great Plains, finding altitude and topography irrelevant, and I made the mistake of being curious about the aversion to salt water, receiving a lengthy explanation I didn't really understand but involved salt as earth and water as water being mingled in a way the elements could sustain but not the dragons, and had nothing discernible to do with any intrinsic magical properties of salt. It took up dreamtime, and the last thing I managed was a detailed image of how I'd thought dragons might be transported across oceans, receiving a sense of bafflement at human technology overlaid with an agreement that it should work well enough if my image was to scale before the sense of their presence faded and Adam and I woke as simultaneously as we'd gone to sleep.
Sitting up we discovered from the senior agent that we'd slept for eight hours exactly and it was now just short of 6 am by his watch. Breakfast was calling, and after we'd returned to DC and I'd dismissed the agents with warm thanks we went for the heaped plates of a Full English, with toast on the side.
"Who knew dreaming worked up this kind of appetite? Did you learn what you wanted, love?"
"Maybe. Tell me your take first?"
It wasn't so different from mine but less detailed and Adam had had a strong sense of spectating rather than participating. He shrugged.
"I think the elements knew I was there and didn't much care either way. It was you they answered to."
"Uh uh. Just answered, sorta."
I summarised what I thought I'd learned, apologising for the digression into salt, but Adam thought the mingling explanation made more sense than magic. He was, though, a good deal more interested in my very to scale image of dragon transport, but fortunately found it as funny as he did arousing and allowed me to escape to an early start in the Oval Office. Skuffles arrived soon after me, telling me that my disreputable da had been busy somewhere, but Gordon, Wolf, and Bear were all more intrigued by dragons than not and did not suppose Coyote would object, while all the chiefs she'd spoken to, if croggled and distinctly wary, because dragons, which was unarguable, were cautiously in favour and entirely willing to remit such a decision to me as Paramount Chief. She dropped her jaw in a laugh.
They agreed that She Doesn't Only Fix Cars knows more than they do about dragons, so if the Elder Spirits and Ol' Manitou River had no objections it was more sensible for you to decide. After all, what are Paramount Chiefs for?
"Good question, Skuffles. And thanks for taking that on. Did you get any of my dreaming?"
She hadn't, so I told her about that and asked her to let Baba Yaga know what had been said about salt, though 'said' was a bit strong, while I turned to the other half of the politics involved and called in Frank, State, Defence, Glen Sawyer as Interior, and the Chair of the Joint Chiefs, conveniently still an admiral. The transport requirements for dragons was not what they were expecting, and there was more crogglement all round as I explained what had been requested and what assurances and agreements I already had, followed by dropping jaws when I added what I intended to propose to China.
"It's just being practical, people. Saying 'no' isn't an option, so the real question is what we can get out of it all as side-bennies."
I had some ideas about that too, which sat up State, Defence, and the Admiral nicely, and while they did some arguing I spoke to Frank and Sawyer about the domestic side. Then we did some integrating, as however adventitious the dragons' request, their arrival bare months before an election was not to be squandered. With fae, werewolves, vamps, and great manitous all out we were, I thought, past the reasons Ursula Le Guin had thought made Americans afraid of dragons, but some would find other reasons fast enough, and I had every intention of putting Jesse and the ex-kiddos network onto this one as soon as I could. Getting Jenna and Sally into it would again have been legally trickier but I'd sidestepped that by getting an amused Baba Yaga to agree to retain them, when things went public, with a brief to advise on and assist draconic integration.
"I haven't told them yet, nor Jesse, but I'll be doing that as soon as we've spoken to China, Admiral, to bank what PR we can ahead of arrival."
He was good with that, and having got over their immediate shock there was a certain enthusiasm at passing it on to China as soon as may be. State would send a request, specifying urgency while disclaiming emergency, and we kicked details around, agreeing that she should also ask for a senior PRC naval presence plus their equivalents of Frank, State, Defence, and Interior. Once we had a time, there would also be a pleasingly cryptic heads-up to Japan about the part they'd need to play, which had State shaking her head again, more to clear it that deny anything, but as I pointed out they could get some side-bennies too, if it all worked out.
Eventually I sent them all off to get on with their new agendas, and kept myself from wondering too much about dragons with my ongoing repurposing of the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission as an agency to look after all the new geothermal taps and extend the programme to much smaller individual shafts for isolated communities. Those could be privately owned and paid for, but the big ones were federal property. Everyone had been too taken with a very green solution to worry about a rolling nationalisation of power generation, and I had whacked belated objections not so much out of the stadium as deep into the long grass by asking why exactly anyone minded green federal energy security or a policy that would progressively merge lower power bills into tax liability. It had amused the manitous, who thought opening shafts a paltry price for closing down fossil fuel and curbing use of wind farms to spare birds, and were happy to oblige as fast as turbines and construction crews were available, so I was also having a fine time re-equipping the policy division of the Department of Energy with all sorts of new connections. A federal government that sold very green energy in rapidly increasing amounts and could do as it would with price had the strategy wonks very thoughtful, as well as complimentary, and if the existing power companies were less keen I didn't much care.
Unsurprisingly, given the text State had sent, it was only a couple of days before we were able to reassemble, adding Gwyn ap Lugh and Baba Yaga, and place the call to China, looking quizzical as we did introductions all round. I was mildly apologetic that the language was of necessity English, but China waved a hand.
"We understand our tongue is hard for others to learn, Ms President. Please think nothing of it. Now, an urgent non-emergency? And from the presence of Gray Lords a preternatural matter, I take it."
"Just so, Mr Chairman and President. Do you remember the first conversation we ever had, before my election?"
"Vividly." He added wary to quizzical. "Which bit of it proves relevant now?"
"Several bits, sir. The long and the short is that we are of necessity about to ask you to upgrade your panda diplomacy to dragon diplomacy." He blinked and I nodded. "It came as a considerable surprise to me too, and in the interests of transparency and offering all the assurances we can I propose to explain chronologically. So, for us it started with a request from the four orders of dragons relayed by Prince Gwyn ap Lugh."
He and Baba Yaga explained dragons and their request, silently integrating what little extra I'd gleaned from dreaming Underhill, and from the questions that followed we all learned more clearly where the dragons presently were, which was on what China called the Jinsha, the upper Yangtze, and the protected areas of the parallel rivers, including Tiger Leaping Gorge. We also learned that they could and would transport themselves down the Yangtze to Shanghai, but would have to leave the river where it became tidal and so needed a land-route to the deep-water port. Those with China seemed to be waiting on him, and he was frowning.
"I must confess, Ms President, that I am … conflicted, I believe you say. It is good that a Chinese preternatural kind has at last come out, but they have come out to you, not to us, and they wish to leave."
"Not all of them, sir, but yes, I noticed that. The hard side of it is that their reasons are primarily environmental, and I did warn you about that one. I understand your population and economic pressures make it tough for you, but this could be a lever for you — clean up the Yangtze Basin and more to make a land fit for dragons as well as people."
I got a cautious nod.
"That I can see, yes. And the soft side?"
"Depends on what the dragons will agree to, but while being out does not mean being at any human beck and call, it does mean being reasonable. I wondered if you might give them some sort of cultural ambassador status — the Longwoods and the Bison Belt are de facto the largest protected magical zone in the world, with both European and Native American preternaturals co-operating there. A Chinese preternatural presence will be welcome."
"Huh, as I also believe you say. Cultural ambassadors may be a step too far, for the Party will surely doubt their … orthodoxy."
"There's that, sir, though another strand of our first conversation plays in. There are dragons, four orders of them, and the Party needs to wrap its collective head about them far more than they need to wrap theirs about it."
"That case can be made, certainly. Agreement is another matter, and many will not be happy."
"Surprise. But as a first preternatural call goes, this is mild. You could easily be in a much tougher spot."
"Oh?"
"Un huh. Suppose the great manitou of the Yangtze had manifested as a giant giant panda, on Medicine Wolf's scale, and introduced itself as Chairmanitou Mao-Xiong, with a little red playbook of its own. I realise the maos are tonally different words in Chinese, but even so."
China looked appalled, as did everyone with him and State.
"That is …"
"Exactly. Emigrating dragons are really not such a big problem."
"When you put it like that, perhaps not. But I am still unclear on how this is to happen, Ms President. Dragons … take themselves to Shanghai, and then what, if they cannot cross salt water?"
"Well, Mr Chairman and President, dragon dimensions are not yet altogether clear to me, but what ocean-going transport do we both have that is all about large flat surface areas? Now, those are metal, which isn't so good, I gather, but how long do you suppose it would take to cover one of yours and one of mine with a double layer of tatami matting? Oh, and a fence of some kind round the edges — we don't want dragons falling overboard in mid-Pacific."
China was staring at me.
"I imagine not. And I have not the slightest idea."
"Me either, sir, but without knowing why Japan is standing by to tell us, if we get so far. My husband can arrange for the … boundary fences — posts in weighted bases, all holding itself together, and easily removed afterwards. And you know, Mr President, there are possible benefits for both of us here. Admiral?"
"Mr Chairman and President, Admiral, the US Navy is as surprised as you are by all this, never mind the tatami matting, but the fact is, sirs, that if it happens we will each have a carrier group first at Yokosuka, then sailing together to Shanghai, on which there are no weather constraints, and finally sailing together again from Shanghai to Puget Sound, for which we will need clear weather for most of a week. Both carriers will have all aircraft hangared, so we could reasonably each assign a second group as escort, or take the view that the two groups together are sufficient. Either way, we would have over some weeks the chance to run some joint exercises, if without aircraft, and allow personnel to meet; you could, if you so wished, make nice with the Japanese; and though we would need my President's advice on this, there are opportunities for some very positive global PR all round."
I wasn't entirely sure where the Chinese People's Liberation Army Navy stood on PR, and neither were State or Defence, but their Admiral seemed quite keen, allowing for bemusement, and China stayed silent as the others with him engaged with my own array. So did I, save when asked about PR, the simple point there being that well-matted aircraft carriers and their groups co-operating to aid a new kind of preternatural had any number of upsides to exploit, and the one big no-no being pointing out the debt dragons thereby incurred.
"There is a debt, and the dragons will know it, but as none of us yet know how they feel about debts, but we do know the Fae acknowledge them as cousins of a sort, I very strongly counsel letting it bide until we know a great deal more. Prince Gwyn ap Lugh?"
"I concur entirely, Ms President, Mr Chairman and President. Baba Yaga?"
She shrugged. "I have never contracted any debt to any dragon, nor had one indebted to me. Caution is surely the wiser course, but I suspect you may find draconic gratitude more like that of cats than fae."
"Whatever we do is their due as dragons, you mean?"
"Along those lines, Ms President."
"Huh. We'll see, then, but no proclaiming the debt while we finesse the PR." I looked at China. "Unless you're going to call your end off."
"What happens if I do?"
"Dragons will go down the Mekong or Salween, and we'll pick them up there. Longer route, more awkward all round, and a bore to have two carrier groups tied up at once, but perfectly doable if we must."
"Yes. You are once again being honourable in asking us first."
"I try to be so always."
"Indeed." He was still for a moment before nodding, once but sharply. "Very well. I shall file dragons under force majeure, and accept this strange offer, Ms President. A time-frame of some kind would be helpful."
I gave him a wide smile. "Thank you, Mr President, and yes it would. And I confess I've rather been looking forward to this bit, but it does depend which ships we're using. For us it will be a last hurrah for the USS Nimitz. Which of yours will you use?"
After some humming and hawing the answer was the PLANS Shandong, which gave us the two necessary deck-outlines.I gave some technical orders, and after a few moments we were joined by a tense Japan with his equivalent of Defence, a senior admiral, and a very nervy civilian who was introduced as the head of a large matting company and did a lot of bowing. And I'd been right to anticipate this, because when I asked them, without mentioning dragons, how long it would take them to tatami-mat the flight decks of the USS Nimitz and PLANS Shandong with two layers, both with proper sewn rice-straw cores and certainly no modern polystyrene, naturally using a fully auspicious layout, their looks were entirely priceless. I'd been surprised to discover there were inauspicious ways of laying tatami-matting, and quite why it should be auspicious to avoid four-mat junctions remained a mystery, but I was happy to defer to their expertise and certainly wanted nothing inauspicious. After a long happy moment in which I watched the buck pass down the ranks, the nervy civilian swallowed hard, said the quantity of most traditional mats was no problem, he having more than enough on hand, and the actual laying should only take a few days, but might he please ask how long they had to produce a fully auspicious layout-design for each layer? A quick sidebar between admirals decided the carriers could be in Yokosuka, aircraft hangared, in six weeks, and the civilian seemed more relieved than not, though they were all once again croggled when I told them we would also be installing a temporary boundary-fence around the flight decks, Adam would be in touch with the US commander at Yokosuka if they needed any data on that, for practical or auspicious purposes, and the bill for both carriers was going to be met out of the Borrowed Warchest. As that was the only clue I was giving them I ended things by thanking them and promising a quick visit to Yokosuka to see matting in progress. Then it was back to China and us, and he was staring at me again.
"You did not say anything about dragons, Ms President."
"Yeah, I noticed that. Wouldn't you rather have control over what is said and when?"
He would, and we put together the rest of the timetable. Yokosuka to Shanghai was only about 1200 nautical miles, for many reasons aircraft carriers are pretty speedy despite their size, and a steady 30 knots gives you 720 a day — but Shanghai to Puget Sound was better than 5,000 nautical miles, while some allowance should be built in. Neither Gwyn ap Lugh nor Baba Yaga had hard figures on dragon speed, but if they were following the Yangtze they had at least 3,000 miles to go, so as they had no more than eight weeks to do it, and perhaps a little less, an earlier rather than a later start might be wise. Ap Lugh didn't disagree, however he had never heard of any dragon being late, and undertook to let the dragons who had asked know our answer soonest; I promised to relay it, ditto; and we were, surprisingly, mostly done. The admirals and Defence secretaries could liaise about exercises along the way, we revisited PR briefly — leaving me amused at China's immediate understanding of why the Fae were hiring Jenna and Sally, and request to hire them also, if there were no conflict of interest — and I gave one more push at clearing up some of their pollution, offering to share geothermal tech if they would undertake the drilling before we all made polite farewells and the conference call ended.
State blew out a breath, hard.
"Well, that went a lot better than it might have done. But Ms President, Chairmanitou anything gives me hives, never mind Mao whatever it was."
"Mao-xiong", I told her. "Means cat-bear, while the Mao in Chairman means something else — some sort of reed, I think. Goosed him nicely, though."
Ap Lugh laughed softly. "Yes, it did. Yet I must sympathise with your Secretary, Mercedes Elf-friend. Tatami-matting aircraft carriers is a surprising departure, even for you."
I gave him a look. "With all respect, Gwyn ap Lugh, when you tell me the dragons are confident I will think of something, I am obliged to think of something. Nor can I think of any other way of transporting dragons."
"I was not objecting, Mercedes, but merely admiring your capacities of vertical sideways."
I gave him another look, and he laughed again.
"Don't you have dragons to talk to?"
"I do, and will be about it. Such conversations are not entirely straightforward, but I would hope to be in touch again within a day or two, Overhill time."
He and Baba Yaga left, but I had to stay for a while, giving State and Defence as well as the admiral some parameters, and suggesting strongly that all the tensions in the various China seas would be a lot less if China, Japan, Taiwan, and the Philippines accepted that they had all contributed to overfishing those seas, as well as large chunks of the Western Pacific, and deducted fishing rights from their agendas until there were once again enough fish. There was also my formal brief for Glen Sawyer, because once the dragons were on US soil somewhere by Puget Sound, and as the USN base at Kitsap was on the western shore and downtown Seattle not so dragon-friendly that meant somewhere north — the Tulalip Reservation came to mind — they would have to get to the Longwoods. With Skuffles's aid, would he therefore please liaise with the Tulalip and with Thunderbird, Raven, and Owl, who could reasonably be asked to escort flying dragons. Nearer the time a list of airspace closures could be announced, but more urgent was a jetty into deep enough water for carriers, and wide enough for disembarking dragons. It would be temporary, so wood over empty plastic drums would probably do, and he could liaise with my engineers about that. I got more looks, but he also laughed, shaking his head, and said he'd come to appreciate finding himself in left field and a dragon-jetty was not a boring proposition. Then it was only me and a bemused if equally appreciative Frank, for whom the major concern was fitting it to his education brief, and I assured him I'd given ap Lugh a clear list of what resident dragons would have to do, which was mostly to behave politely and responsibly, as well as ecologically, but while I wouldn't compel them to be conversational, or even seen much, if they didn't want, I would require them not to interfere with anything else legitimately going on in the Longwoods, including school visits.
"I hope they'll be up for some visibility, Frank, but it may be only to other preternaturals for some while. And until we know more, that's fine by me. Meantime, do share with Rachel, but no-one else, please, until China and I can agree a global announcement."
That evening I had the considerable pleasure of telling Adam that he needed to ring-fence two aircraft carriers and might be contacted by a man about auspicious tatami matting on that account, after which I laid it out properly, he did a good deal of laughing, which pleased me, and we made some private plans of our own. Otherwise it was back to waiting, but Gwyn ap Lugh told me two days later that while unavoidably uneasy about ocean-crossings, the dragons were happy I had an answer, glad to hear it, and reluctantly agreed to be mostly visible as well as careful in getting themselves down the Yangtze on time, which would take them perhaps a month, while Baba Yaga had agreed to liaise with China about it all, and would accompany them in her flying mortar. China was pleased to hear it too, and the timetable firmed up considerably, meaning that the announcement could be pencilled in for about a month's time, before which there could be a very careful widening of those in the know.
Given present sensibilities about China, selling immigrating dragons to the US public was trickier than it might have been, but with the foreign policy bit cleared I could tell Jesse and let Jenna and Sally know they were about to get requests from the Fae and China. Their expressions were priceless too, until the matting made them laugh, but once they grasped the scale they were being asked to think on they did it very impressively. Jesse kept me updated, so I knew they'd managed to talk to Thomas Hao about Chinese sensibilities, as well as my dubious Da in his PR Guru Extraordinaire mode, and within a fortnight there were any number of hashtags ready to go as well as a simple but deep story arc — at the Chinese end, that dragons were leaving not only to explore a new magical environment on behalf of Asian preternaturals but also to warn everyone in China that their land was at breaking-point, and at the American end that dragons were coming to the land of the free, as so many had before them, and welcome. A separate strand involved types of dragon, these being neither the Beowulf and Smaug type, nor any of the cartoon varieties, nor remotely related to any biblical invocations, but elementals of earth, air, fire, and water; and another insisted on it all as a ringing endorsement of the Longwoods, Bison Belt, and green lurch — Thunderbird, great manitous, trolls, and Purity had all blessed them, and so did dragons and elements. What was not to like?
After only a little humming and hawing China had accepted the ecological angle, and I gathered a special party subcommittee was gearing up to use the dragons' departure much as I'd used Medicine Wolf, and begin a ten-year programme for a clean China, with emissions and run-off, domestic, industrial, and agricultural top of the first tranche of targets. They were pleasantly surprised when the advice package Jenna and Sally delivered included a strong set of well-translated memes and hashtags to get the very many Chinese kiddos and ex-kiddos involved, enabling them to invoke party authority and national purpose to prod recalcitrant parents, guardians, and elder sibs, and if everyone was aware of the many ironies involved China was genuinely putting his weight behind getting greener and turning a maximal profit on draconic departure. And with all that sorted, and Baba Yaga informing us the dragons were about to begin their journey downriver, it was time to tell my fellow citizens what all was about to happen.
A sixteen-hour time difference between Kennewick and Beijing made it awkward, but my 7 pm was China's 11 am the next day, and on Jenna's and Sally's inspired advice we made it a joint announcement, of sorts. He was on first, proud to announce dragons, disappointed they felt it necessary to leave to find clean and acceptable space, determined to clean up China's act, and glad to be able to say the US had offered assistance he and the dragons were happy to accept. Then I got to add carrier groups, tatami matting, arrival at a special jetty being constructed with Tulalip permission, escort by Elder Spirits to the northern Longwoods, and my own gladness in welcoming a newly out preternatural kind with strong approval of a Chinese green lurch, with which the US would be very happy to assist as we might, climate change not caring in the least whether those it killed were capitalist or communist. And finally we all got to see dragons, after a fashion, as Baba Yaga began to escort them down the Yangtze.
The flying mortar was visible enough, and I could tell Baba Yaga was concealing a grin, but dragons were … well, confusing covers it. It wasn't so much that they were indeed serpentine and thoroughly coily, or perhaps wreathed, like smoke, nor the different kinds, readily identified by colours, with red-brown earth, bluey-green water, orangey fire, and whitish air, but the fact that they phased in and out, flickering out in one place and back in another. I'd been told there were altogether 32 of them, four males and four females of each kind, with one pair older and three wanting to start families, but you would have been hard put to count them on screen, and if the many Chinese dragon motifs were closer than anything Disney had ever managed they'd still had a fair dose of imagination and guesswork. But it was also hypnotic to watch, and over the next few days the daily feed slowly descending the Yangtze acquired a global audience hovering in the billions, while Baba Yaga more or less managed to introduce the dragons individually, generating clearer images, though the only names they would acknowledge were Elder Water (or whichever) Dragons 1 and 2, with Junior (whichever) Dragons 1 to 6, odd numbers being the females, and as they still phased in place some digital assembly was needed to produce anything printable, but interestingly worth it. Size was tricky, because of all the coiling and involutions, but if the 1s and 2s had stretched out they might have been some 40 feet long, and the rest were not much smaller. Scales was closer than anything else, though tiling was also in there, with iridescence and shimmer, and muzzle or snout was closer than face, but the eyes were extraordinary, faceted and multi-hued, unlike anything I'd ever seen except maybe Underhill's rose-coloured eyes.
What they weren't doing was talking to anyone except Baba Yaga, but the media were still having a very happy field day, the hash-tags and posts were doing their work, only the rump preterophobes were objecting, and China and I managed to side-step the problems besetting any state visiting by happening to coincide on thoroughly unofficial visits to the USS Nimitz and PLANS Shandong at Yokosuka. My entourage had to fly in, but I could go by cloak, while he neatly used a navy destroyer that was a part of his carrier group. We were, of course, visiting captains and crews nobly permitting the matting of their flight-decks for the greater good, but we were both at the most important US Navy base in the western Pacific, I gave China and entourage a surface tour of the Nimitz, he reciprocated with the Shandong, State, admirals, and others did a deal of sidebar talking, and we had Japan to a serious dinner served on the already tatami'd bit of the Nimitz's flight-deck, where some very useful conversations were had, with regional benefits, so that was all alright. Adam came, officially because he was doing the fencing, unofficially because wild horses wouldn't have kept him away, and our PR gurus had arranged a visit by happily pop-eyed local schoolkids who got to meet China as well as Skuffles, Adam, and me, while we all admired the efficient installation of a safety fence around the ships' deck perimeters. I also made a point of seeing and thanking the poor guy who'd had to arrange the matting, and learned rather more than I wanted to about how marvellously auspicious they'd been able to make everything, though the mat patterns were actually very pleasing, in a strange way and the story played well in Japan however others were as puzzled as I was about unlucky flooring.
On the following Saturday the world could contemplate the image of the two carriers departing together, auspicious matting shielded for now by tarpaulins, ring fences gleaming in sunlight, and not an aircraft in sight. As soon as they were in open water they came into parallel, their support groups forming a single encircling protection, and picked up speed, bow-waves spreading brightly. It wasn't quite beating swords into plowshares but it was at least briefly repurposing them, and I enjoyed both the continuing bemusement of the media and a fine sermon from Reverend Jenkins on the Sunday, appreciating the diplomacy if still trying to wrap her own head around dragons and their phasing. The congregation appreciated it too, having mostly got over their wariness at my abilities with thunderbolts, while Ramona and the Freed were openly admiring, both of dragons and the PR.
"You know, Mercy, for a president who isn't campaigning you're doing a remarkable job of it."
I grinned. "You could say, Ramona. The regional conferences kick off next week, and the dragons' arrival will take us well into September, but it's fortuitous. Even the Fae weren't expecting them."
"Coyote luck, then."
"Maybe, but who knows? Coyote didn't see this one coming either, and we're both wondering if dragons have senses of humour."
I left them wondering too, along with everyone else, and during the afternoon Skuffles and I managed a garden meeting with Medicine Wolf, Young Man River West, and Tigger plus Gordon, Raven, and Owl about seeing dragons safely from Puget Sound into the Columbia Basin and on to the Mississippi Basin. Draconic phasing interested everyone, and the consensus was that they must be moving between this world and something equivalent to the spirit world, with a probability that the boundary was fractal in multiple dimensions. Why they would do that, or be so, was an open puzzle, but the Elder Spirits had all sorts of questions about my elemental dreams, and in the end I just let Medicine Wolf read that memory and pass it on intact so they could mull it for themselves. After a moment Gordon shook his head.
"Ayah, She Doesn't Only Fix Cars, but you have some odd experiences. Still, I agree those elements expressed dragons, a very long time ago indeed."
"Or birthed them, maybe." Raven waggled one hand. "And perhaps their … inbetweenness is because of the nature of those elements, as possible states. It's interesting."
Owl was always pretty inscrutable but even he agreed it was interesting, and we got on to practicalities. From the Tulalip Reservation landing the dragons needed to fly between Marysville and Everett, crossing I5, and could then use the Snowqualmie National Forest to avoid humans, mostly, and follow US 2 and Stevens Pass over the Cascades to pick up the Columbia at Sunnyslope. From there the route would be south to the Tri-Cities before turning onto the Snake, with rolling airspace closures from Pasco to Idaho Falls, and up to Great Manitou Corner for a formal preternatural welcome, introduction to Koyaanisquat, and handover to Ol' Manitou River, with onward passage via the Bighorn and Yellowstone. Avoiding humans was fine, but I did want the publicity, not that it could be avoided, and if dragons phased Thunderbirds, owls, and ravens didn't, while avatars did not have the same dubiety about keeping formation as the Elder Spirits' children. There were moreover several reservations close to the route, the Yakama here, and the Nez Perce east of Lewiston, as well as the Wind River, Northern Cheyenne, and Blackfeet Reservations over the continental divide. Skuffles would be visiting, because one thing we all wanted was First People welcoming dragons to their land, in harmony with them and with the redeveloping bison ecosystem, and while that could be formally represented in part by the Elder Spirits much wider participation would be both welcome and right.
Mid-week saw the distinctly odd spectacle of phasing dragons still led by Baba Yaga in her flying mortar being escorted through Shanghai to the Deep-Water Port and seen aboard the tatami'd carriers. Gangplanks not being quite the thing for salt-averse dragons, China had provided great rectangles of planking that rested on the edges of flight decks, where the fencing had been opened, and boarding was accomplished without difficulty and with an interesting surprise, the fire and water kinds sharing the Shandong, earth and air the Nimitz. The weather forecast was good, with a solid high sitting over the middle of the north Pacific, but there was no dawdling, fencing was restored, and within the hour both carriers and their escort were back at sea and picking up speed.
That evening I had an entertaining conversation with the captain of the Nimitz, and a couple of days later, with distance reducing steadily, Skuffles and I went to meet the dragons. Cloaking to moving GPS co-ords was as tricky as you'd think, but the carriers slowed for an hour and we managed it safely, emerging mid-flight deck to find Baba Yaga and the captain waiting and the dragons all around, watching intently.
"Mercedes Elf-friend."
"Baba Yaga, Captain. Is all well?"
"It is, Ms President. No change from when we last spoke. The dragons keep well away from the fence, and look in rather than out, but they have been … quiescent."
"Do the opposite pairings help that, Baba Yaga?"
"They do, Mercedes." She looked amused. "You might call it negative feedback."
"Or just balance. But let's get this done, if you will."
Close to dragons were no less confusing, and when ap Lugh had said conversations were not straightforward he'd been heavy on the meiosis. It was more mind-pictures than mindspeech, but with some help from Skuffles, the cloak, and Baba Yaga I conveyed to the sixteen dragons a warm welcome, my requirement that they live lawfully and in harmony with existing dwellers, and ensure any children did the same, the sacredness of the bison, and the arrangements for landing and their further journey to the Longwoods via Great Manitou Corner. The senior dragons accepted the requirement, seeming to approve, and beyond that I mostly got a lot of curiosity that made me wonder what tales Baba Yaga might have been telling them. Skuffles interested them as much as she had The Dagda, so did the cloak, Excalibur, Manannán's Bane, and the triad, while werewolves, Elder Spirits, manitous, and vamps were all in there, but we didn't have all day so Skuffles and I offered them our memory of the elements aiding us with the unsquishing thunderbolt, a summer-evening street in DC with a conduit stretching back through the duckpond in the Garden of Manannán's Death to the depths on which Underhill rested. I don't know that dragons do or can sit up, but there was a ripple of intense phasing before they all became maximally visible for a moment, offering deep nods, and started talking among themselves.
Baba Yaga quirked an eyebrow. "The tale of the elements aiding you?"
"Yup. Gives them something to think about, and they'll meet the other preternatural kinds for themselves, at Great Manitou Corner if not before."
"Indeed." She cocked her head. "Still, I believe you may add She Surprises Even Dragons to your tally of names."
I gave her a look which made her laugh, before we crossed to the Shandong in what may be the oddest trip I've ever done by cloak, and did it all again, if with even warier politeness from the Chinese captain and his officers, to whom I was pointedly polite and appreciative back. The fire and water dragons felt a little different, as well they might, and there was a clearer polarity of heat and coolth, but it was pretty much rinse and repeat all the same, though the water dragons were interested by the Columbia and Snake, with the reasons Great Manitou Corner was where it was; and the response to clear personal contact with the elements was identical. Given the way they'd sent their message to Underhill I'd assumed they were themselves in such contact, but now wondered if they'd been more isolated than that, and when we were back in the Garden of Manannán's Death I asked Baba Yaga.
"I can aver nothing, Mercedes, but I believe you are right. Dragons have always kept themselves to themselves save in great need."
"May I ask how you met, then?"
She grinned. "In great need, of course. It was when the glaciers and ice sheet on the Tibetan Plateau were melting back and the Yangtze kept flooding catastrophically. They were then creatures of the plain and foothills for choice, not the higher land to which they later retreated."
"Huh. There's been lots of argument about that ice sheet."
She grinned again. "I know. It wasn't so large as ice sheets go, but ice sheets are ice sheets, and even small ones make a big mess when they melt."
"Unarguably. Still, something they can talk about with Medicine Wolf and Ol' Manitou River."
"Point."
I grinned back. "Un huh. And I'm out of here, but I am very glad of your assistance in this, Baba Yaga."
"It was our obligation, but then again I've actually rather enjoyed myself. And the mortar's been glad of some exercise."
My debriefing was eagerly awaited in DC, State, Glen Sawyer, and the Chair of the Joint Chiefs in the lead, but fortunately Skuffles could give them all a pretty clear mind-image — or mind-vid, really — of the critical bits, including the clear acceptances of my conditions of residence, and while she did that I sorted through what I thought I might now know about the wider picture, and before they started talking among themselves added it to the mix.
"I'm more or less thinking on my feet here, people, but in general I'm reassured. Besides the dragons' agreements, they will clearly be having more preternatural than human contact, if quite possibly not so much even of that. They keep themselves to themselves unless obliged to mix, and having been driven into increasingly marginal land at heights they don't prefer over the last few thousand years is enough to make anyone want to move. Plainly they have contact with the elements, but equally plainly were surprised to learn about mine and Skuffles's contact, so I tend to think it really is what it seems. I have no idea how they learned about the Longwoods in the first place, but even with dragons at the far end of the Yangtze television probably explains it. I'd also think that they were aware at some level of the thunderbolt episode — I dunno, but an echo, a rumour or slight shock of … parental action after long silence, maybe — and that gave them a chance to pass on their desire to book for lower altitudes. Then it was just Tinkers to Evers to Chance, ap Lugh asked, and here we all are."
Sounds right to me, though I wonder what the bits of them in the spirit realm or whatever it is do. I would add, though, that I do not think the numbers are any kind of chance — two cubed of each order, two to the fifth power in all, divisions strictly equal, balance absolute. They are an expression of order, not of disorder, as the elements are. And in the matter of the thunderbolt, I believe they were also very strongly approving of our motives as well as our means.
"Dragons are mathematical in some measure. Huh. That feels right too, maxi-me, though I didn't get the approving so clearly."
You rarely do.
I gave her a look but she was unrepentant, and State amused as well as relieved.
"Thank you, Ms Presidents, that's all helpful and better than not."
"Un huh. Let's just hope it doesn't set a trend. A preternatural Ellis Island is not what I most want, just now."
We left them to chew on it, but could hardly grumble that dragons were on all lips in the next few days as the carriers drew ever nearer to Puget Sound. I gave a syndicated interview with CBS, using many pretty graphics and images of the new temporary jetty, to give everyone clear data about my meeting with the dragons, the terms of their residence, and the journey they'd be making via Great Manitou Corner.
"I can't yet give exact times, because I don't know how fast the dragons will travel upstream and they may be having some conversations along the way, or just some sightseeing, but you can see the sequence of airspace closures with date ranges, so be aware. And the other thing is that while I am as President greeting the orders of dragons as they land on US soil, the meeting with assembled preternaturals at Great Manitou Corner is preternatural business, not human, and is hosted jointly by the three great manitous. Elder Spirits are attending, as are the Grey Lords, the Marrok, and daywalking designates of the National Vampire Council, but while I am sending human observers" — which would be Jesse, Jenna, and Sally, though I'd be surprised if Frank and Andrea didn't tag along — "and both Congresstrolls will be there, as well as Senator Stourbridge, I have other commitments, and in this the preternatural's business is its own."
"OK, that's all very clear, Ms President. Are the dragons becoming US citizens?"
"No. They get green cards, however those will have to remain on file in DC, but as they can't pay taxes or vote anyway, citizenship isn't appropriate or needed."
"Are they economic migrants, then?"
"Nope, no economy involved, except more images for tees and totes, and who knows what they'll do with any tithe. They just want clean air and water at something under 15,000 feet, and enough safe space to raise their families. And though yes, they are getting special treatment, d'oh, dragons. It's not as if I'm lowering the bar."
"Uh … no, it's not. Is there anything else you can tell us, Ms President?"
"Any number of things, but far fewer that I may, and fewer still that I will. However Skuffles and I now have more experience than anyone American except the crew of the USS Nimitz, dragons are new on us too, and one reason among many for the preternatural pow-wow at Great Manitou Corner is to widen that pool with other senses than humans have. There is, you realise, no manual for any of this? The tides of change are still running hard and fast, and besides thinking about what we make of dragons, try thinking about what dragons will make of us. But I'll leave you all with this thought, that whatever else they may be, they are about balance, as their parent elements are, and their numerical arrangement shows, and as we are just now seeking a new and greener balance their arrival is, frankly, just dandy, and may well prove seriously helpful. It's no more than a magical intuition, but I think it's right on the money."
The heavier-weight papers had already picked up on the maths, and there was a bunch of unlikely speculation which did pop what a professor called a pseudorandom pattern in draconic phasing, but the explanation had even Darryl scratching his head and 'pseudorandom' both reminded me of decimal dimensions and made my head hurt, so I ignored it. More privately, Jesse had some interesting questions about how draconic and elemental balance related to righteous and legendary vengeance, which I though came down to restoring it, not so much as negative feedback but in the way of ecosystems, actions having consequences that went full circle. Then again, it had been in aiding what turned out to be a full-on legendary vengeance that the elements had come to me and Skuffles, and thunderbolts had always been in their nature about justice for thieving wyverns, so who knew? Adam said he was just filing the whole thing under Mercy's Waxing Power, and found it unsurprising the dragons both approved and were as croggled as anyone else.
"You think I should make Baba Yaga's new name She Croggles Dragons, love?"
He snorted, Jesse laughed, and so did my nominating da when he blew in and she relayed the idea.
"We should have a scroll of them", he told me, eyes glinting mischief. "There are so many by now I get them muddled up, She Threshes Dire Duckponds."
I rolled my eyes at him. "If you want to be known as Muddled Coyote, go ahead. I'd think it would pall, though. Are you coming to the Tulalip landing as well as going to the pow-wow?"
"Not unless you want me there — the fliers have it all in hand. Which reminds me, the avatars at least won't be landing, and don't want to show human faces. They also don't have the clothing magic, so it's easier."
I'd met only two of Gordon's avatars, and few of Owl's, but was unsurprised and nodded.
"Un huh. And no, I wasn't asking you to come. That bit's the human side of the business. Oh, and please tell Gordon that ap Lugh tells me Baba Yaga will probably go on mortaring with them."
"Isn't she bored with it?"
"Happy to be out of the office, I think, plus the mortar apparently likes the exercise. But maybe paying debt down or credit up, somehow, as dragons were their obligation, not mine."
"With a touch of riding herd?"
"Maybe, though I think maths probably rides better herd on dragons."
He laughed, and I went back to work via some very dull committees and a more entertaining cabinet, everyone being pretty happy with the good PR. It would be absurd to say the actual arrival was an anticlimax, but everything went smoothly, and the sun shone. All sorts of people were there, some by actual invitation, and Thunderbird, Raven, and Owl with half-a-dozen avatars were circling overhead. Besides Adam, Jesse, Skuffles, State, Glen Sawyer, Jenna, Sally, and Gwyn ap Lugh, I was standing with two Tulalip chiefs and slightly to my surprise Leslie, who'd for once pulled rank a little, saying the Bureau should be represented but mostly just wanting to see for herself, partly in curiosity but also because of how involved Jenna had been. I'd told her it must be nice when the personal, maternal, and dutiful all agreed you should bend regs, and received a look undermined by a wide grin.
Glen had made sure the temporary jetty, thousands of empty plastic barrels lashed with rope and covered with plywood and — I gave him big points — more tatami matting in auspicious array, was plenty long enough, Possession Sound is deep, the tide was rising, and the two carriers, escorts hanging back, had no problem coming to a halt on either side, however improbable the tableau. Workcrews started peeling back the fencing, and I gave Glen more points when a wolf-team from the Seattle pack hauled on some ropes and flipped up disembarkation slopes. I have no idea if dragons get seasick, but they didn't much like being closer to salt water and seemed very happy to reach land, phasing in sharp, flickering patterns for several minutes before settling into an array facing us, Baba Yaga hovering in her mortar to one side.
Skuffles and I had worked out that I'd do words and she'd do dragon-picture-talk, and none of it was complicated. There was a formal welcome to the good old US of A, thanks to the captains and crews of the two carriers and their escorts, which could head down channel for an overnight mooring by Base Everett while a naval dinner was held, and introductions. The Tulalip chiefs got slight nods of thanks, and Gwyn ap Lugh a deeper one, but the fliers only interested looks and other humans only brief attention. Cat gratitude was about right, minus the purring, and with formalities done it was bare minutes before they followed Baba Yaga's mortar up to about fifty feet and set off south-east, fliers falling in above them. I watched for a few moments as they dwindled, then went to do some more Tulalip meet and greet and generally make nice.
A little later, waiting on Adam to finish a conversation with the dominant wolf among the crew from the Seattle pack, who'd flipped the landing slopes back down again and were now helping to disassemble the jetty, I found Leslie beside me, head cocked a little.
"Is that an SSAC look?"
She grinned. "Only tangentially, Ms President. Mostly it's Leslie wondering why you're feeling smug and why you aren't going to the pow-wow at Great Manitou Corner. Jen and Sally were surprised about that too."
"Prior commitments, Leslie."
"Which aren't in your diary."
"True." I didn't care to give TMI ever, but Leslie was a good friend, and had been there, while I was feeling smug, so I checked where media were, and lowered my voice. "Do you remember, on the night of the Italian earthquake, when I told Adam carrier-group foreplay was so not going to happen?"
Her eyes went wide and I shrugged.
"What can I say? But I'm due some serious side-bennies, and the Secret Service have, as anonymously as they and lots of money can manage, commandeered a penthouse suite at an absurdly expensive hotel in Paris." I saw Adam clap the Seattle wolf's shoulder and start towards us. "Which is why we're out of here, right now. Give my best to Jude."
We left her laughing, Jesse, Jenna, and Sally trying to work it out with reassuringly little success, and had ourselves a wonderful time.