Written in Red

Meg studied the ponies and felt her stomach flutter. Oh no.

Retreating—and becoming aware of just how cold the room was because she’d already had the door open too long—she hustled into the front room, grabbed the calendar and a marker, then hustled back to the ponies.

“Look.” She made a big S on Moonsday, then turned the calendar around for the ponies to see. Not that she thought they could read, but they seemed to understand words. “We had sugar lumps on Moonsday as a special treat. We don’t get sugar lumps again as a treat until next Moonsday, which is here.” She made another S on the calendar. “Today we have carrots as our treat.”

She put the calendar and marker down, picked up the treat bowl, and returned to the doorway. “Carrots today.” She held out two carrot chunks.

Managing to convey disappointment and resignation, Thunder ate his carrot chunks and headed out to deliver his mail.

All the ponies ate their carrots, including the ones who must have shown up today because they expected sugar.

Meg closed the outside door, checked the front room to make sure no delivery trucks were pulling in, then went into the back room to make herself a cup of peppermint tea. If they were going to have a treat discussion every day, she was going to put on her boots and stand outside from now on. At least that way she could warm up afterward.

Simon hung up the office phone and sat back in his chair. That was the third West Coast Courtyard leader to call him this morning, asking if there had been any peculiar attacks in the Lakeside Courtyard’s territory.

Something new had found its way among the humans. Something that was absorbed by the terra indigene when they ate the meat. Humans were turning savagely aggressive, and not just among their own kind. They were attacking some of the Others. Mostly Crows were being attacked, were being ripped apart in both forms, by packs of humans that were so aggressive, they had no survival instincts. The top predators in those Courtyards had taken down the monkeys, then began to fight among themselves soon after consuming the meat.

Just as disturbing were the Wolves and Grizzlies and Cats that were suddenly so passive, they couldn’t defend themselves against an attack by a gang of humans.

The bodywalkers, the healers among the terra indigene, could find no evidence of poison or drugs, but something was making humans behave strangely and was also affecting the Others.

More humans in the bigger cities took drugs that not only damaged their lives but also spoiled them as meat. But none of the incidents being reported were in the big cities. This new danger was happening in small farming hamlets or industrial centers that had a few hundred citizens. The kinds of places where the Others had minimal contact with humans and wouldn’t know there could be reasons not to eat a kill.

The kinds of places that, if the Others felt threatened and decided to eliminate those humans, the number that were killed would be howled at as tragic on the television or in the newspapers, but in truth would be no more than an inconvenience. Another group of humans would be selected to work the farms or run the machines, would scrub off the blood and move into the houses—if the Others didn’t get there first and simply reclaim the land and property for themselves.

Didn’t humans understand how expendable they were? The terra indigene were as old as the world, as old as the land and the seas. They learned from the top predators and became more than those predators. Always adapting, always changing as Namid changed. They would be forever.

The terra indigene in Thaisia didn’t need humans anymore in order to have the material things they wanted. If the monkeys became a real threat, they no longer had enough to offer to make their presence endurable. If that day came, humans would follow the same path as other creatures before them and become an extinct meat.

Meg wasn’t surprised when Jester showed up an hour after the ponies trotted off. She put down the stack of mail she’d been sorting and held out the treat bowl. “Have a carrot.”

Jester leaned over the bowl, sniffed, then leaned back. “I prefer meat.”

“Set a good example,” Meg growled. “Eat a carrot.”

Jester took a step back and eyed her. “You’re sounding rather Wolfish. Was there a problem with the ponies this morning?”

Meg set the bowl on the table. “Only that they didn’t get sugar lumps today, but sugar is a special treat and isn’t something they should have every day, so today the treat was carrots, and Thunder . . . thundered . . . which upset Elliot Wolfgard, who sent some stuffy Owl to remind me that the consulate dealt with human government and shouldn’t be embarrassed by the Courtyard help’s shenanigans!”

She hadn’t realized how much the reprimand had upset her. After all, she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

No. She wasn’t upset. She was mad.

It felt good to be mad. It felt invigorating to be able to feel emotions without fearing punishment. It felt alive.

She stared at Jester.

“You gave sugar to the ponies?” he asked.

“So what? An occasional lump of sugar won’t hurt them.”

“No. Of course it won’t.” He took another step away from the table. “I’d tuck my tail between my legs, but it’s very uncomfortable growing one while wearing trousers, and I think we’d both prefer that I remain dressed.”

She picked up the bowl and held it out. “Eat a carrot instead. It won’t hurt you either.”

Sighing, he took a carrot chunk and nibbled on it. “Will there be sugar again?”

The calendar was now sitting next to the music player. She held it up and tapped the big black S. “Moonsday is sugar day.”

“Right. I’ll explain it to them.”

Her anger fizzled out. “I’m not upset with you, Jester. It’s just that I want to do a good job. I really do. But I haven’t been here a week yet, and I keep getting into trouble.”

Smiling, Jester held thumb and forefinger close together. “A little bit of trouble, which is amply compensated for by the entertainment you’ve been providing.”

“Thanks a lot.” She hesitated. She didn’t know much about anything, but she didn’t have to know much to figure out she was going to have time on her hands. “Jester? When they were caught up with their work, what did the other Liaisons do while they waited for deliveries?”

He looked around the room. “You cleared out all the old mail and packages?”

“Yes.”

He looked a little bewildered. “I don’t know, Meg. I don’t remember seeing this room so clean. Maybe . . . read books?”

“Is there something else I could do to be helpful?”

“What do you want to do?”

Good question. One that deserved some thought.

“Your suggestion about reading is a good one. I’ll start with that.” She could study anything she wanted, could read about a subject from beginning to end if she wanted. She could learn how to do things instead of having a head full of disconnected images.

“Good,” Jester said. “Fine. I’ll talk to the ponies. From now on, they’ll be happy with whatever treats you give them.”

Then he was gone, slipping out the door so fast she almost wondered if he’d been there at all.

Meg shook her head. She wasn’t sure humans could—or should—understand how the Others thought. But Jester’s suggestion was a good one, so during her lunch break she would pick up a book to study and a book to read for fun, and ponder what else she could do to earn her keep.