As Steve lowered his hand, one of the Sanguinati males raised a hand, imitating the greeting.
With that much acknowledgment, Steve turned to Roger and said, “What do you think?”
Roger studied the house. “Do I think I could live in one of these houses? Do I think it’s a good idea to have a community that includes Intuits running small farms and businesses, and terra indigene doing the gods only knows what as their contribution? Or do I think Simon Wolfgard is a little bit crazy for proposing this in the first place?”
“He’s not crazy,” Steve replied. “He’s implementing a lot of new ideas in a very short amount of time, and I think he knows he’s moving a bit too fast. But I think he’s pushing to get this community and the changes in the Lakeside Courtyard started because he’s worried. There’s—what?—a couple hundred terra indigene in the Lakeside Courtyard surrounded by two hundred thousand humans. If things swing out of control in the city, I’d want some kind of escape route for my people, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I would,” Roger said quietly. “And I know firsthand what can happen when things swing out of control.”
Steve swore. “Sorry. I didn’t think about Jerzy.”
“That was a case of a human-controlled hamlet surrounded by miles of wild country controlled by the Others, and the humans started the conflict. Didn’t make the result any easier to accept.” Roger studied Steve. “You got a feeling about all of this?”
Oh, yeah, he had a feeling. The skin between his shoulder blades had been twitching and twinging since they pulled in here.
“About the community? Yes. But right now, I have a feeling we’re being watched,” Steve said quietly.
Roger nodded. “By more than vampires and Crows. Yeah. I feel like I have a target painted on my back.”
Steve looked around and saw nothing unusual. Saw nothing, actually. The Sanguinati had disappeared—and the Crows were silent.
“When I was a boy, Douglas Burke came to visit for a couple of weeks,” Roger said. “Old friend of my father’s.”
“I figured that, since he paved the way for us to hire you.”
Roger kept his eyes on the houses in front of them. “You know how men will tell stories about their lives when everyone else is off doing something, and it’s just them and memories? They know when a kid sneaks back to listen, but they pretend they don’t, and they tell the kind of stories mothers wouldn’t want a child to hear.”
Steve smiled. “The Intuits have a winter tradition called an ‘I Remember’ night when grandfathers and grandmothers talk about how things were when they were young. Same kind of thing. Knowledge passed along from memories. Children aren’t invited, but nobody banishes you if you slip into the room and stay quiet.”
“Uncle Doug talked a bit about his time as a young police officer, serving in human settlements surrounded by the wild country. I remember him saying that there is a buffer of terra indigene land that separates human places from the wild country, and how very few humans have ever seen the true wild country and survived.”
“Ming told me once that there is no wild country on Great Island. Most of the island is untouched land that belongs to the Others, but all the terra indigene are aware of us, and even the ones who don’t interact with us directly participate in hunting or harvesting that benefits both sides.”
“Intermediaries, like the Others who live in the Courtyards.” Roger paused. “I’ve never forgotten something Uncle Doug said during that visit. He said humans only thought of the wild country in terms of uncultivated land and distance from human dwellings. But when the Others talk about the wild country, they’re talking about who lives on the land as well as the land itself. He said people think the buffer between human land and wild country is always measured in miles, but sometimes the buffer between one and the other can be measured in yards, and it’s when that truth is ignored that people die and human places disappear.”