“Yeah, it’s me.” Oilcan tried to pull his face out from between her hands, but she had him fast.
“Get your hands off him,” Thorne growled.
Tooloo turned her attention to the warrior. “Shame on you. By the sword and the blood.” Tooloo spat. “My little wood sprite is not for you.”
“This is Thorne Scratch.” Who looked like she was about to slice and dice the crazy half-elf into small pieces. “She’s a Stone Clan sekasha.”
“I have eyes. I can see.” Tooloo let him go. “Stupid guard dog. Tear the throat out of one master only to give its leash to another. Loves the pat on the head and the toss of the ball too much to leave it for true freedom.”
Thankfully Tooloo had switched to English. Thorne Scratch continued to glare hard enough to cut.
“Tooloo, we’re just here for stuff for the kids.” Oilcan was glad that the kids had already trailed off after Blue Sky, who was explaining the use of the plastic shopping baskets that Tooloo had salvaged from Walgreens.
Tooloo spat again but went back to stocking the refrigerator, muttering darkly. “It be all well and good if they were satisfied at staying on the leash, but they’ve wound it tight around all the rest, binding everyone in place. Humans understand true revolution. Fight to be free and then stay free — don’t just hand the keys over to the next master that rises up.”
Oilcan had learned that when the half-elf got on a rant, there was no reasoning with her.
“You be careful of them.” Tooloo crashed the milk bottles into the case. “The Stone Clan are the worst of the domana bastards. They were so sure that they would be the next masters after the Skin Clan were thrown down. Want is a dangerous thing. It’s a seed planted in darkness that grows in secret. It grows and grows until it consumes you. Don’t let them get their hands on you, or they’ll twist you around and then murder you in your sleep.”
“I’ll be careful,” Oilcan promised.
Tooloo harrumphed and stomped out the back of her store without another word.
Relieved, Oilcan went to check on the kids. He found Fields of Barley down the next aisle, loading bottles of spices into one of the Walgreen baskets.
“There are clothes in the other room,” Oilcan said.
Barley nodded. “Cattail Reeds is looking at them. She is a seamstress; she’ll find something for me. If I’m going to be doing the cooking, I need more pots, dishes, spices, knives. .” He closed his eyes tight, his breath suddenly ragged.
“Are you okay?” Oilcan asked gently.
“They took my knives. They used my paring knife to cut my hair, and then they took them.”
What could he say in the face of that? “I’m sorry.”
Barley nodded rapidly, blinking. “It’s — it’s just my knives were made for me, the best I could afford.”
Oilcan glanced around, but Tooloo had no knives for sale. “There are other places to buy things. I’m sure we can find knives if we look—”
“Yes, I know. In truth, my knives would have not lasted more than one or two hundred years. I feel stupid. I thought I could come and start an enclave. I was in the city no more than an hour before I was captured. What idiocy to think I could protect others when I could not even protect myself.”
“One failure does not make a life,” Oilcan said. “The important thing is you’re alive. You failed because you knew nothing about Pittsburgh. Once you know the city, you can try again.”
“The mistake I made was thinking I could do it alone,” Barley said. “It’s a major undertaking. It takes lots of people.”
Oilcan nodded encouragingly.
“We could start one with the six of us. Blue Sky told us that we would be leaving that unsafe place with humans.”
“What? Wait. No.”
“We’re staying there?” Barley’s dismay at the condo was clear; the young male’s façade started to crumble at the edges. His hands trembled slightly, and he blinked rapidly to keep tears out of his eyes.
“We’re not staying,” Oilcan quickly reassured him. “I don’t know where we will be going. I haven’t had time to think about it.”
“Good. It’s far too small and vulnerable.” Barley ticked the points off on his fingers. “Everyone will need their own space to maintain the harmony of our household. The commons needs to be at least five times bigger than where we are now. The bathing room should be separate from the toilets. We need a safe room. We need garden space. We need—”
“Okay.” Oilcan held up his hands to stem the flow of information. If opening an enclave was Barley’s dream, then the elf had probably spent decades studying their design and function.
Somehow this felt all very familiar. Tinker been this focused when she decided that opening a salvage yard would be the answer to many of their problems. “No one is going to think we’re helpless orphans if we’re running a successful business.” She’d been right, as usual. Every cop in Pittsburgh knew they were living on their own but looked the other way since they were obviously doing well enough to be left alone.
“We’ll start looking for a new place to live after we leave here,” Oilcan promised.
Barley nodded and wiped at his eyes. “Thank you, Sama.”
Cattail Reeds came up with a bundle of clothes in her arms. She was already dressed in a black-checked miniskirt and a pink-flowered baby-doll shirt. “I will have to take in most of these; everything is too big. Hold this please, Sama.” She pushed the clothes into Oilcan’s arms and then tugged free a pair of black denim jeans. “We’ll have to roll up the cuff until I can shorten these, but they should fit Barley in the waist and inseam.”
She had to show Barley how to zip up the jeans, but her eye was perfect; the pants were a perfect fit. She sighed at a cotton tunic that was Wind Clan blue. “If we can dye this, it will work well.” She flipped it over her shoulder. She pulled out a black Steeler’s T-shirt and held it out to Barley. “Will you wear this?”
“What is it?” Barley took the shirt and examined it closely.
“It’s human fashion!” Cattail grinned. “Isn’t it awesome? They write on their clothes. You should see what they do with patterns. I want to get some of their fabric and make dresses and tops.”
“But what does it mean?” Barley held out the shirt so the NFL logo was prominent.
Oilcan spent several minutes trying to explain professional football and the Pittsburgh habit of clinging to the memory of something that didn’t exist anymore. All the professional sports teams had left immediately after it became clear that Pittsburgh would routinely be stranded on Elfhome. Hoverbike racing had filled the void.
“Sama.” Rustle of Leaves came out of the next room, trailing Blue Sky and Merry. He was wearing earbuds linked to an iPod by white cords. He held the MP3 player out to Oilcan. It was old but irreplaceable now that Pittsburgh was stranded permanently on Elfhome.
“I told him it’s expensive,” Blue Sky said. “Tooloo wants over a hundred dollars for it.”
“You can have it,” Oilcan said. Rustle of Leaves was the one he was most worried about; the quiet male wouldn’t be able to put his captivity behind him if he never regained the use of his arm. Music would be a comfort and a distraction for him.
Rustle of Leaves smiled his thanks.
“Here.” Cattail Reeds dug through the clothes to find khaki slacks and a white button-down shirt for Rustle of Leaves. She and Merry helped Rustle strip down and eased him into the new clothes. Oilcan was glad that the kids all seemed to be taking care of each other. It was only after Rustle was dressed that Oilcan realized that Blue seemed to be on the brink of losing it.