It wasn’t his job to know everything about every human in the village or the surrounding farms. The Sanguinati were supposed to monitor human behavior to protect the terra indigene’s interests—and that included maintaining the boundaries between land the humans could use and what belonged to the Others. Was Roundtree’s talk of expansion a prelude to an attempted land grab? Or was this perilous change in attitude somehow connected with the contamination? If it was, how had Roundtree been contaminated?
“Growth,” Ilya said quietly. “Expansion. Prosperity. That sounds like a reelection platform rather than practical reality. The village cannot expand beyond the boundaries that already exist. It cannot alter the use of farmland and replace pastures and crops with houses or businesses. There is still some room for growth in terms of population. Sproing has gained about a hundred people in a very short period of time. Not all of those people are adults, and not every adult has a separate dwelling, so there are still some residences available for people who want to relocate to the village—and work in the village.”
Ilya smiled, showing a hint of fang, and watched Roundtree pull into himself. “I’ve heard some storefronts have been rented,” he continued, “but no one has seen any indication of businesses making use of those spaces. It has been my observation that humans are not casual about earning a living, since they need money for things like food and shelter. Now I’m wondering why the people renting those storefronts aren’t making an effort to get their businesses up and running.”
“Some of our new citizens might work elsewhere—which is another reason having those roads closed is making the village look bad,” Roundtree said, flustered.
That confirmed his suspicion of one reason the mayor was fielding calls about closed roads and lobbing a complaint at him.
“Hmm. Perhaps. But if people are working elsewhere, why did they leave the town where they are employed? Even commuting from Crystalton or Bristol every day isn’t practical. Are the new residents living here on the weekends in order to do a kind of double-dipping by claiming a share of rationed goods in both locations?” Ilya paused, not because he needed to think but because he wanted Roundtree to pay attention. “Every adult who came to Sproing recently and took over an abandoned dwelling or leased an apartment would have come to the village hall to provide your government with their name, new address, and their contact information. You would need to know that to add them to the tax roll since they would be making use of the available water and government services like garbage pickup. Human forms also usually have a space to fill out for occupation.”
“That’s optional,” Roundtree said quickly.
“Not anymore.” Ilya stood. “Before I discuss anything with the Elders about opening the roads, you are going to supply me and Chief Grimshaw with information about the people who have taken up residence in Sproing since this summer. You should have most of that information available already. I also want to know where they lived prior to their move to Sproing and where they are working. If they are opening a new business here, I want to know what kind of business. And I want to know who signed the leases on the storefronts that are supposed to have new occupants. I’ll give you seventy-two hours to get that information to me. If you can’t—or won’t—do this, I’ll send someone who can.”
Roundtree shot out of his chair. “You think you can order the police to go knocking on doors and harass our citizens just because they want to live here?”
Ilya smiled. “Oh, no, Mayor Roundtree. If I have to get the information, I won’t be sending the police.”
CHAPTER 38
Vicki
Watersday, Novembros 3
After Boris Sanguinati arrived with two boxes of books and the Cornleys’ luggage, Michael and Ian Stern helped me set up the long folding tables that would become Lettuce Reed’s auxiliary bookstore, which Michael had dubbed Mini Munch.
I made two tabletop signs: used books and new books. New books had to be purchased. Used books could be swapped, equal exchange. I wasn’t sure what Julian expected me to do if his special customers wanted to purchase a new book. He hadn’t covered that possibility.
Well, I would hand over the book. That’s what I would do. And leave Julian a note to keep his ledgers balanced.
Michael and Ian made a display of the new books on the second table while I handled the used books on the table closest to the library’s door.
“Can we purchase any of these books?” Ian asked as he read the cover copy on a couple of the new books.
“The special customers get first pick, but Julian didn’t say the rest of you couldn’t browse after they left,” I replied.
Michael rearranged a couple of titles to more prominently display his newest book. “So, these special customers usually show up at Julian’s bookstore at dusk and select some books. But they’re coming here instead.”
I think there was supposed to be a question in there somewhere about why the special customers were coming to The Jumble, but Michael didn’t actually ask, so I didn’t feel compelled to answer. “Yes.”
“And we’re supposed to stay out of sight while they’re here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Ian asked. “We’ve seen—and talked to—other kinds of terra indigene. Wouldn’t talking about something we both enjoy be a positive experience?”
“Maybe at another time, but they were quite insistent that they didn’t want to interact with any of my guests.” Just me. The Jumble’s acknowledged Reader.
“Maybe if they had a chance to see us?”
I wondered why Ian was pursuing this when I’d already said they all had to stay away from this part of the main house. I hoped it was professional curiosity and not something that could be interpreted as sinister intentions. “They’ve already seen you. All of you. And they told Julian flat out that none of you were allowed to see them. I’m sorry. I know you’re curious, but . . .”
“Julian is nervous about this, isn’t he?” Michael said. “Not just cautious about the change in location, but truly nervous about offering these particular terra indigene this alternate arrangement so that they can get their books.”
I nodded.
“So we’re not talking about shifters like Crows or Coyotes or Foxes.”
I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure we aren’t talking about anyone like that.”
Michael and Ian exchanged a look.
“Before your customers are expected to arrive, I think your guests should make up a couple of platters of leftovers and stay in the TV room with one of your . . . larger . . . employees keeping an eye on things,” Ian finally said. “Temptation to ignore a request is easier to resist when someone is watching.”
“We’ll take care of the food and will make sure Jenna McKay is here in the main house before dusk,” Michael said. “You focus on . . . this.”
I didn’t have time to wonder what the two Intuits were sensing. The afternoon was slipping away, and I had to explain to my surly guests why they were going to be confined to the TV room to watch whatever might be on at that hour while something interesting was going on in another part of the house.