“Have to admit, I’m kind of curious too,” Pete said. “So is Eve.”
“You concerned about the children?” Burke asked.
“Some. But I’m more worried about what other humans might do than what the terra indigene will do,” Pete said. “Anyone else notice how yesterday’s news stories about police and Others cooperating to locate and help those abandoned girls have been replaced by reports about the desperate situation in Talulah Falls and how every regional government is reviewing the ration books to determine what foods will be added in anticipation of shortages? Since I doubt there are many Others who pay attention to human news reports, it seems like someone doesn’t want us to see any proof that we can get along. And that scares me. Humans don’t own so much as an acre of land on this entire continent. We can build or farm on the land that is leased; we can extract minerals and fuels; we can harvest timber. Most of the land leases are twenty or twenty-five years for villages and small towns. They get renewed so quietly I doubt anyone but government officials, and lawyers, even think about it anymore. Or they didn’t until the terra indigene refused to renew the lease for Jerzy and all the humans were forced to leave that village. The occasional mention of a city land lease during a government meeting is brushed aside so fast you’re not even sure you heard the words. People in my old town were shocked when they realized that the Others take those leases seriously and are willing to evict any tenants they view as too troublesome to tolerate.”
“Maybe that’s partly what’s behind the talk about shortages,” Monty said. “Maybe some of the leases on tracts of farmland are coming due, and the governments aren’t sure that the leases will be renewed this time.”
Burke nodded. “That’s a possibility. The water tax here helps everyone remember who owns the water that supplies the city. But Pete is right about people forgetting about the leases. Lakeside has been around long enough that most people don’t read the fine print that says when they buy a house, they’re buying the building and not the parcel of land it stands on.”
“Eve and I spent the rest of the morning talking it over,” Pete said. “And frankly, we talked about looking at another town in the Northeast or somewhere in the Southeast Region.”
“You think those places would be safer?” Monty asked.
“No, we don’t. That’s why I’m going to accept the job of being the Others’ attorney for human concerns and Eve is going to work for them as an apartment manager.”
“Smart move,” Burke said. “I’ll give you what help I can.”
Monty looked at Pete. “Before you go, I’d like to ask . . . If you’re working for the Courtyard, will you—can you—also take on other clients?”
“Lieutenant?” Burke asked, rising to his feet.
“Simon Wolfgard didn’t say I couldn’t,” Pete said. “And I don’t think they have enough business for me to make a living if I don’t take other clients. Why? Do you need a lawyer?”
Monty nodded. “I’m worried about my daughter. For a while, my ex was talking about relocating to someplace in Cel-Romano to live with Nicholas Scratch and his family.”
“Scratch?” Pete looked at Monty, then at Burke. “The HFL speaker?”
“The same,” Burke said grimly. “Scratch is still in Toland making his speeches. Gods above and below, you can’t listen to a news report without hearing the bastard making one of his speeches.”
“Since Scratch is in Toland, it stands to reason that Elayne is there too,” Monty said. “But I haven’t been able to reach her for the past couple of days.” He tried to hold in the words, but they burst out. “It’s bad enough that she invited Scratch to move in with her so soon after meeting him, but Lizzy is just as much my daughter as hers, and I do not want Elayne taking Lizzy across the Atlantik to live with a man I don’t trust. Gods! Nicholas Scratch is an alias. We can’t even find out who he is and if he really is from a wealthy Cel-Romano family as he claims.”