Marked in Flesh
Page 128
O’Sullivan frowned. “No safety in the dark. Does that apply to vehicles on the roads?”
Simon nodded.
“So we’re back to closing the stockade gates.” O’Sullivan sighed. “Can people go about their business after dark within the boundaries of land leased to humans?”
Simon hesitated. “Maybe. But humans invaded the wild country and erased the boundaries, so now there are . . . gaps . . . in your stockades that you can’t mend, and I don’t think some kinds of Elders are going to stay away from the human cities anymore.”
“Sounds like cities are going to have to establish, and enforce, curfews,” Burke said.
Vlad noticed that neither Burke nor Montgomery mentioned that police officers, of necessity, would be out after dark to enforce the curfews and other human laws. What about the humans who drove ambulances or put out fires?
No way to tell. Not yet. But Vlad was sure of one thing: no matter how hard or terrifying life would be for humans in Thaisia from now on, it was going to be much, much worse for the people living in the Cel-Romano Alliance of Nations after Namid’s teeth and claws retaliated for the deaths of the shifters as well as the humans’ attempt to claim a part of the wild country.
“What about travel between regions?” Montgomery asked.
Simon shrugged. “I only know the new rules for the Northeast.”
That wasn’t quite true, Vlad thought. Because of the drawing Hope made, Simon and I—and Jackson—know more about what will happen between regions than anyone else. “You already know that lines of communication between regions have been severed,” he told O’Sullivan. “You can no longer call, send an e-mail, or even send a telegram to a person or business in another region. But there has been no sign of train tracks or roads being destroyed at regional boundaries that would deny travel or the flow of mail and merchandise between regions. I’m guessing that travel is still possible but will be difficult, especially if any form of transportation that is hauling freight has to be off the roads or at a train depot by dark. Or docked at a harbor if the cargo is going by boat.”
“No sign of tracks or roads being destroyed yet,” O’Sullivan said. “I heard the word you didn’t say, Mr. Sanguinati.” He paused. “The governor’s office is working on a list of towns and cities in the Northeast that are still accessible to humans.”
“Has anyone heard from the people in Toland?” Montgomery asked.
“Radio stations indicate the damage to the city is serious, and the death toll is rising,” O’Sullivan said. “Telephone and telegraph lines are down. Could be days before they’re reconnected.”
“Could be months, could be never,” Simon said. “Thin the herds, then isolate the herds.”
Silence. “We could be cut off completely from the other cities?” Burke finally asked.
“The HFL caused trouble throughout Thaisia,” Simon said. “Even though a breach of trust had been declared, and you all knew it would get bad if you broke that trust further, you did it anyway.”
“Not all of us, Simon,” Montgomery said.
“Not all of you,” Simon agreed. “But the monkeys chattered over the telephone wires to plot against us. So the wires will not be allowed to stretch between regions anymore. Maybe not even between cities.”
“Mobile phones might still work,” Vlad said. “Radio and television can still convey information over a distance.”
“The Elders broke the link they could see,” Henry said. “And they will keep it broken since those wires were strung across the wild country with their permission, which they no longer give. But the Elementals know how to silence radio and television if humans try to use them against us.”
“Steve Ferryman says the Intuits had already built communications cabins at two settlements near the tip of Lake Superior,” Simon said. “One is in the Northeast, the other in the northern Midwest Region. The operators are using citizens band radios to talk to each other and convey messages between regions. Each cabin also has telegraph and telephone wires, so the Intuits can make phone calls and also use e-mail, but only within their own region. They feel that, if they use the radios carefully, the terra indigene in the wild country will not be provoked into destroying the cabins and that means of communication between the two regions.”
“They will send and receive messages for a fee?” O’Sullivan asked.
“Of course—but they haven’t worked that part out yet. For now, they’re only taking messages for Intuits and terra indigene.”
And probably will continue to do so, Vlad thought.
Simon handed Vlad a folded half sheet of paper. “Ferryman received this for us.”
Vlad opened the paper. We’re safe at Prairie Gold and Bennett. Heard from Jackson Wolfgard. Everyone at Sweetwater also survived. Tolya.
He handed the paper back to Simon, a little surprised by the depth of his relief. He had expected Tolya to survive. What surprised him was how much the confirmation meant to him.
“A lot of humans—and a lot of human places—are gone,” Simon said. “We don’t know how many. It’s not the Lakeside Courtyard’s job to know. Our job is to watch over this city, but from now on, we won’t be the only ones who are watching.” He looked at Burke. “The wild country begins right on your doorstep now. It will prowl your streets in ways we never did. The next time the humans in Thaisia turn against us will be the last time.”
Simon nodded.
“So we’re back to closing the stockade gates.” O’Sullivan sighed. “Can people go about their business after dark within the boundaries of land leased to humans?”
Simon hesitated. “Maybe. But humans invaded the wild country and erased the boundaries, so now there are . . . gaps . . . in your stockades that you can’t mend, and I don’t think some kinds of Elders are going to stay away from the human cities anymore.”
“Sounds like cities are going to have to establish, and enforce, curfews,” Burke said.
Vlad noticed that neither Burke nor Montgomery mentioned that police officers, of necessity, would be out after dark to enforce the curfews and other human laws. What about the humans who drove ambulances or put out fires?
No way to tell. Not yet. But Vlad was sure of one thing: no matter how hard or terrifying life would be for humans in Thaisia from now on, it was going to be much, much worse for the people living in the Cel-Romano Alliance of Nations after Namid’s teeth and claws retaliated for the deaths of the shifters as well as the humans’ attempt to claim a part of the wild country.
“What about travel between regions?” Montgomery asked.
Simon shrugged. “I only know the new rules for the Northeast.”
That wasn’t quite true, Vlad thought. Because of the drawing Hope made, Simon and I—and Jackson—know more about what will happen between regions than anyone else. “You already know that lines of communication between regions have been severed,” he told O’Sullivan. “You can no longer call, send an e-mail, or even send a telegram to a person or business in another region. But there has been no sign of train tracks or roads being destroyed at regional boundaries that would deny travel or the flow of mail and merchandise between regions. I’m guessing that travel is still possible but will be difficult, especially if any form of transportation that is hauling freight has to be off the roads or at a train depot by dark. Or docked at a harbor if the cargo is going by boat.”
“No sign of tracks or roads being destroyed yet,” O’Sullivan said. “I heard the word you didn’t say, Mr. Sanguinati.” He paused. “The governor’s office is working on a list of towns and cities in the Northeast that are still accessible to humans.”
“Has anyone heard from the people in Toland?” Montgomery asked.
“Radio stations indicate the damage to the city is serious, and the death toll is rising,” O’Sullivan said. “Telephone and telegraph lines are down. Could be days before they’re reconnected.”
“Could be months, could be never,” Simon said. “Thin the herds, then isolate the herds.”
Silence. “We could be cut off completely from the other cities?” Burke finally asked.
“The HFL caused trouble throughout Thaisia,” Simon said. “Even though a breach of trust had been declared, and you all knew it would get bad if you broke that trust further, you did it anyway.”
“Not all of us, Simon,” Montgomery said.
“Not all of you,” Simon agreed. “But the monkeys chattered over the telephone wires to plot against us. So the wires will not be allowed to stretch between regions anymore. Maybe not even between cities.”
“Mobile phones might still work,” Vlad said. “Radio and television can still convey information over a distance.”
“The Elders broke the link they could see,” Henry said. “And they will keep it broken since those wires were strung across the wild country with their permission, which they no longer give. But the Elementals know how to silence radio and television if humans try to use them against us.”
“Steve Ferryman says the Intuits had already built communications cabins at two settlements near the tip of Lake Superior,” Simon said. “One is in the Northeast, the other in the northern Midwest Region. The operators are using citizens band radios to talk to each other and convey messages between regions. Each cabin also has telegraph and telephone wires, so the Intuits can make phone calls and also use e-mail, but only within their own region. They feel that, if they use the radios carefully, the terra indigene in the wild country will not be provoked into destroying the cabins and that means of communication between the two regions.”
“They will send and receive messages for a fee?” O’Sullivan asked.
“Of course—but they haven’t worked that part out yet. For now, they’re only taking messages for Intuits and terra indigene.”
And probably will continue to do so, Vlad thought.
Simon handed Vlad a folded half sheet of paper. “Ferryman received this for us.”
Vlad opened the paper. We’re safe at Prairie Gold and Bennett. Heard from Jackson Wolfgard. Everyone at Sweetwater also survived. Tolya.
He handed the paper back to Simon, a little surprised by the depth of his relief. He had expected Tolya to survive. What surprised him was how much the confirmation meant to him.
“A lot of humans—and a lot of human places—are gone,” Simon said. “We don’t know how many. It’s not the Lakeside Courtyard’s job to know. Our job is to watch over this city, but from now on, we won’t be the only ones who are watching.” He looked at Burke. “The wild country begins right on your doorstep now. It will prowl your streets in ways we never did. The next time the humans in Thaisia turn against us will be the last time.”
