“Nothing.” Shelley gave her a curious look. “Did you?”
“You need to get back before your helper gets bored and starts rearranging the books again.” Since Shelley’s helpers were usually the older children who liked books and wanted to earn pin money, they tended to be responsible—up to a point. “Do some research for me.”
“You want your own set of tarot cards?” Shelley teased.
“I want to know who makes them. I especially want to know if any Intuit-run company makes them or something like them.”
“You getting a feeling?”
Her vision grayed for a moment, a terrifying sensation. “Yes, I have a feeling.”
CHAPTER 10
Windsday, Juin 6
Jean clenched her hands on either side of the bathroom sink. The Gardners, the Simple Life family who were allowing her to stay in their little guest cabin, never commented when they saw evidence of cutting, but she knew they reported it to someone.
Some days she could resist the need to cut by sitting outside the door of her cabin and watching the activity around the farm, listening to the sounds of children playing. Some days she could resist, but today an old scar itched so much it burned.
Dangerous to cut an old scar and have new images overlaying the previous vision. More dangerous to cut across old scars and jumble together the images of several prophecies. Such a cut was rarely useful. More often it drove a blood prophet insane or broke her mind in some other, smaller way. And this scar wasn’t a true cut. This was damage that had been done to her while the Controller’s men were beating her in order to get blood to make the drug called gone over wolf.
Had to cut. And, worse, had to remember what she saw.
Jean pulled out her razor. Then she rolled up a clean washcloth and bit down on it as a gag. Finally, she carefully cut the old scar and set the razor down moments before the agony filled her body and images filled her mind.
Two images, repeating over and over. Ones she had seen before while the Controller’s men beat her.
She stood on a hilltop, looking down at a big map of Thaisia, its boundaries scratched into the earth. Scattered throughout the continent were tiny candles. In the first image, some of the candles were clustered together, perhaps indicating human cities with a lot of people. In most places, there was a single candle. Probably a marker for a town. All those candles. Heavier concentrations along parts of both coasts. More human places than she would have guessed existed.
The second image. The same map of Thaisia, seen from the same hilltop. So few candles still burning now. So few. But a candle still burned for Lakeside, and another burned for Great Island. Only two candles burned for Toland instead of many.
Some candles burned in the Midwest and Northwest, but their position didn’t match the names of any of the towns she’d learned.
Jean spit out the washcloth, then pressed it against the cut. She was on the bathroom floor, and her body hurt too much to try to stand just yet.
Should she write down what she’d seen and share it with Meg? Should she burden the one blood prophet who, as the Trailblazer, was trying to help the rest of them stay alive?
“Meg’s Wolf,” Jean whispered. Yes. He was a leader of the Lakeside Courtyard. He’d rescued her because Meg had asked him to help her. Maybe knowing that Lakeside could survive what was coming would help him make the choices that would ensure that the city did survive.
Shaky, Jean got to her feet. She washed and bandaged the cut, then cleaned her razor and ate a small meal. Having properly cared for herself, she sat down and wrote a letter to Simon Wolfgard.
To: Simon Wolfgard and Vladimir Sanguinati Intuits in the Midwest and Northwest have heard about bison being killed in dozens of places throughout those regions. No reports about the bison killings in the news; however, there were reports of cattle or sheep being killed, and outraged ranchers and residents of the neighboring towns were interviewed. Everyone ignored the simple fact that Wolves, Panthers, and Grizzlies don’t shoot their prey, so the animals weren’t killed by the terra indigene. Maybe a few of you should learn how to use a rifle. Less work catching your dinner and much less chance of being kicked or trampled.
Received a request from Jesse Walker, who runs a general store in Prairie Gold. She says Vlad gave his consent for her and a Shelley Bookman to be included in our e-mails about cassandra sangue. Please confirm.
Received the pictures. Wish I could thank you for them.
—Steve Ferryman
To: Steve Ferryman Jesse Walker’s request confirmed. We want to further the connections between Lakeside, Great Island, Prairie Gold, and Sweetwater.
You can thank Jackson Wolfgard for the pictures. Since a blood prophet drew them, consider them a warning. However, Simon would like any information your people might have about fortune-telling cards.
—Vlad Sanguinati
To: HFL, Lakeside Chapter Stage one of the urban cleansing has revealed the problem areas. Proceed with stage two at the designated time.
—NS
CHAPTER 11
Thaisday, Juin 7
Joe Wolfgard helped Tobias Walker lift the fifth shipping container of bison meat into the dairy farm’s small refrigerated truck, which Tobias had parked outside of Floyd Tanner’s butcher shop. He didn’t understand why the whole Prairie Gold community was proud to have such a truck, but he could appreciate its usefulness in moving food that would spoil during transport in the days when Summer ruled the land.
Besides, Vlad had already done some of the things he’d promised, and Jesse Walker and Shelley Bookman were now on Steve Ferryman’s particular information list. Shelley had also set up an e-mail account for him at the library so that Simon and Jackson—and Vlad—could send him news if they didn’t want to send a telegram, which would have to be brought out to the terra indigene settlement, or call him at Jesse Walker’s store to have a message delivered that way.
In the terra indigene settlement where he’d lived before coming here, there had been a communications cabin that had a telephone and computer, and the settlement had been close enough to a human village that they could use mobile phones at least some of the time. But Prairie Gold was a simpler place, and communication was no longer as direct. The terra indigene settlement here didn’t have a telephone or computer, didn’t have the poles and wires that made such things work. The Others hadn’t felt the need for such things. More important, the Elders didn’t want those human things touching their hills.
But having a way to communicate with other terra indigene beyond howling range was important now that humans were causing trouble in so many places. He would need to chew on his problem for a while. Maybe the Eaglegard would be willing to act as couriers if he needed to send a message quickly to another part of Thaisia or receive a message from Simon or Jackson? If not, then the Crowgard or Ravengard would certainly enjoy being the first to have news.
Did humans who worked in telegraph offices choose that work because they had the same desire as Ravens and Crows to know the news first?
“What do you think?” Tobias asked.
Joe blinked, then remembered the question Tobias had asked as they loaded the meat into the truck. “Bison fat? Do humans eat it?”