Written In Red: A Novel of the Others

by Anne Bishop

  “Hi,” the woman said when Meg opened the door. “I’m Merri Lee. Can I come in far enough so you don’t lose all the heat?”

  Still feeling raw about Simon’s reaction to Asia—and feeling a touch defiant because this woman was holding up a pass that said she was allowed to be in this part of the Courtyard—Meg stepped aside.

  “I brought your midday meal,” Merri Lee said as she came in. “Things are churned up today, so . . . Wow.” Her eyes widened as she looked around. “Is the other room any cleaner?”

  “A little. Not much.” Meg looked around too. “It is pretty dirty, isn’t it?” She thought it was, but she hadn’t been sure other humans would see it that way.

  “Here.” Merri Lee handed her the carry sack. “Look. No one but the Liaison and the terra indigene are supposed to be in this office, but I wouldn’t want to work here until it’s clean.”

  “There’s a lot of mail that needs to be sorted,” Meg said.

  “And you have to do that,” Merri Lee agreed. “But A Little Bite is closed today, so I could put in my work hours by helping you clean this room at least.”

  “If you’re not allowed to be here, you’ll get in trouble.” There was a natural warmth to Merri Lee’s friendliness, so Meg didn’t want her to get hurt.

  “Not if I get permission from a member of the Business Association.” Merri Lee looked nervous. “Can’t ask Simon or Tess, and I’d rather not ask Vlad or Nyx.” Her face cleared. “But if Henry is working in his studio, I can ask him. Are there any cleaning supplies here?”

  “Not that I found.”

  “Not even for the toilet?”

  Meg shook her head.

  “Oh, gods. Well, I’ll pick up some supplies after I talk to Henry.” She glanced at Meg’s hands. “What did you do to your finger?”

  “I was cutting up carrots for the ponies,” Meg replied. “Got a little careless. It’s not a deep slice.”

  Merri Lee nodded. “I’ll get some cleaning gloves to protect your hands. The cleansers will sting if they get in that cut.” She held out another carry sack. “That’s my food. Could you stash it someplace until I get back?” Giving Meg a smile and wave, she darted out.

  Meg put the carry sacks on the sorting table. It felt uncomfortable to lie to someone who was being kind. She hadn’t known a lie could have a physical weight. But she wasn’t going to tell anyone the truth about the cutting and the prophecies until she had no other choice.

  Having decided that much, she unzipped the compartment that held her food. Before she could remove a sandwich, something small and brown ran across the floor and darted into the pile of packages that still needed sorting.

  When Merri Lee returned a few minutes later with Henry Beargard and two females, Meg was kneeling on top of the sorting table, staring at that corner of the room.

  Merri Lee stopped in the doorway and looked ready to run. Henry and the females stepped into the sorting room.

  Meg pointed a shaking finger. “Something is hiding in that corner.”

  Henry moved silently to that corner and sniffed. “Mouse.”

  “Oh, gods,” Merri Lee said.

  “They’re easier to catch if you leave food in the middle of the floor,” the brown-haired woman said.

  “Why would you do that?” Meg asked.

  “Fresh snack,” the black-haired woman replied brightly.

  Merri Lee said, “Oh, gods” again before clamping a hand over her mouth. Meg just stared.

  Henry studied Merri Lee, then Meg. “Humans don’t like mice?”

  “Not in the building!” Meg said.

  “And not around food,” Merri Lee added.

  The three terra indigene looked baffled.

  “But it’s fresh meat,” the brown-haired woman finally said.

  “Humans don’t eat mice,” Merri Lee said. “Or rats. We just don’t.”

  Silence.

  Finally, Henry sighed—a big, gusty sound. “We will put aside other work today and make this place human-clean for the Liaison.” He pointed at Merri Lee. “You will show us how this is done.”

  “I’ll go to the Market Square and pick up the supplies we’ll need to put some shine on these rooms,” Merri Lee said.

  The black-haired woman cawed. “You can make things shiny?”

  “In a way.”

  So the Crow went with Merri Lee while Henry began excavating the mailbags and boxes piled in the corner of the sorting room.

  The brown-haired woman was an Owl named Allison. She was quite pleased to catch two mice—and less pleased when Henry made her go outside to eat them.

  When five people cleaned three rooms—and one of them was a man as strong as a bear—the work went quickly, even with Allison taking two more breaks to devour mouse snacks. Some of the packages in that corner had been nibbled; others were smashed. Meg noticed how many of them were addressed to people living in the Chambers, which made her wonder who the Sanguinati were that the previous Liaisons wouldn’t deliver packages to them.

  On the other hand, Jester had said the previous Liaisons hadn’t been encouraged to make deliveries to anyone in the Courtyard. But something should have been done to get the packages to the people waiting for them.

  She had made excuses for not eating while they were working—especially when there was still the possibility of finding another mouse. Since Merri Lee was also making excuses, despite a growling stomach, the Others accepted the strange behavior.

  Finally, all the old packages were neatly stacked on one of the hand carts; the counters, tables, cupboards, and floors were washed; the wave-cooker and fridge were clean; and the bathroom didn’t make her shudder when she used the toilet. Allison went back to the Owlgard Complex to report this peculiar aversion humans had to mice. Crystal Crowgard ran off to Sparkles and Junk with rags and the spray bottle of cleaner that would make all their display counters shiny.

  Henry pointed at Meg. “The rooms are clean. Now you will eat.” He pointed at Merri Lee. “You may sit with her in the back room and visit.”

  Meg looked at the clock on the sorting-room wall. “It’s almost two o’clock. I need to take deliveries.”

  “You will eat,” Henry said. “I will watch the counter until you are done.”

  Meg went to the back room and frowned at the small round table and two chairs. “Those weren’t here this morning.”

  “No, they weren’t,” Merri Lee replied, pulling food out of the fridge. “But I mentioned to Henry that it would nicer if you had a place to eat when you didn’t want to go out during your break, and he got these from somewhere.” She looked around the room and nodded. “This is much better.”

  “Definitely better,” Meg agreed. “Thank you.”

  They didn’t talk much. Maybe they were both too hungry to focus on anything but food. Maybe they had learned enough about each other for the moment. Whatever the reason, Merri Lee left as soon as she had enough to eat.

  Meg stored the rest of the food, then went out to the front room in time to greet the two deliverymen who had taken one look at Henry and were backing away.

  When the men gave her the packages and drove off, Henry nodded as if he was pleased about something.

  “I don’t answer the telephone when I’m working with the wood,” he said. “But if you need me, you tell the Crows and I’ll come.”

  “Thank you for all the help today,” Meg said.

  He left, saying nothing more.

  Meg went back to sorting mail for the remaining time in her workday, but she kept glancing at those old packages. She would do something about them tomorrow.

  She was about to close up for the day when a patrol car pulled into the delivery area.

  He found me, she thought, her heart jumping. The Controller has found me. That’s why the police are here.

  She hadn’t seen these men before, but they seemed to know something about the Others because they both got out, removed their hats, and looked straight at the Crows before entering t
he office.

  “Ma’am,” one of them said when they reached the counter. “I’m Officer Michael Debany. This is my partner, Lawrence MacDonald. We work with Lieutenant Montgomery and just wanted to introduce ourselves and let you know we’re available if you need any assistance.”

  As they chatted and Officer Debany mentioned again that they would provide help if it was needed, Meg realized the men were fishing for information about what happened this morning to close Howling Good Reads and A Little Bite, but mostly they were trying to find out if she had been hurt but was afraid to leave.

  She wouldn’t have gone with them even if she did need help, but it made her feel better that help was available for the other humans who worked for the terra indigene.

  When the police officers left, she locked up the front room and continued sorting mail until Tess arrived to help her with clothes shopping and laundry. That turned out to be a more pleasant experience than she’d expected.

  The only thing that marred the evening was when she looked out her apartment window before going to bed and spotted a man standing across the street, watching her.

  CHAPTER 5

  Eight ponies showed up the following day, looking for mail and carrots. Meg filled their baskets, handed out treats, and breathed a sigh of relief that she had just enough carrot chunks to go around. She wasn’t sure they could count and would know if the last pony only got one chunk instead of two, but it wasn’t a chance she wanted to take.

  She waved when they trotted away, then closed the door, washed her hands, and got back to sorting. Apparently, Watersday was a light day for deliveries from human businesses, but the number of trucks with the earth native symbol on the cab more than made up for it. They didn’t stop at her office, though; they continued up the access way between the Liaison’s Office and the consulate to the delivery area for the Market Square.

  According to Merri Lee, the Lakeside Courtyard served as a way station for terra indigene who wanted to enjoy human goods without having to deal directly with humans. Meat, dairy, and produce came in to the Courtyard from the farms run by the Others; clothes, books, movies, and incidental products that appealed to them went out.

  Meg looked at some of the old packages. The labels said IN CARE OF THE LAKESIDE COURTYARD. Should those be going out to terra indigene settlements with the other merchandise? She didn’t want to bother Henry, who usually didn’t answer the telephone anyway. And she certainly didn’t want to call the big, bad Wolf. But she had to ask someone, so she called the bookstore and listened to the phone ring.

  “Maybe he got run over by a tree,” she muttered as she imagined a log rolling down a hill and flattening a certain Wolf. It happened in some of the videos she had watched, so it could happen. Couldn’t it? The thought cheered her up, so she pictured it again, changing the log to a rolling pin that rolled out the Wolf like a furry piecrust.

  “Howling Good Reads,” said a male voice that wasn’t his.

  It took her a moment to realign her thoughts. “This is Meg Corbyn.”

  “Do you want to talk to Simon?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  She tried to think of a question that anyone at the store could answer so she could hang up before someone told him that she had called. Then she looked at the packages.

  Rememory. A woman locked in a box—a surprise to be delivered as a special gift. Except no one had known what was in the box, and no one had recognized the urgency of finding it when the box hadn’t been delivered as promised.

  The girls might not remember a prophecy at the time they spoke the words, but the images weren’t lost. They were absorbed like the training images, connecting something remembered with something present. Jean called those images rememories because they were more than training images but less than personal memories.

  There wasn’t a woman in any of the packages that had been left in the sorting room, and a life wasn’t lost in any of those small boxes. But each of those packages was stained by disappointment.

  “Could someone tell me if any of the packages I have at the office should be going out on the earth native trucks with the other deliveries?”

  A pause. “Someone who isn’t Simon?” the voice asked cautiously.

  “Yes.”

  Voices were muffled by a hand over the receiver, but Meg could still hear the emotion in those voices and wondered how much of a problem she was causing for whoever was working at HGR today.

  The silence that followed was so full she thought she’d been disconnected. Then the voice came back and said, “Vlad will come over and look.”

  “Thank you.”

  She hung up and went back to sorting. She wasn’t sure Vlad would be any better than him, but at least Vlad hadn’t yelled at her. Yet.

  * * *

  Vlad leaned against the office doorway and gave Simon a smile that made the Wolf’s canines lengthen and his fingernails change into hard claws.

  “I’m going to the Liaison’s Office,” Vlad said pleasantly.

  “Why?” Simon snarled.

  “Because it seems Meg is good at holding a grudge and doesn’t want to talk to you. And you must feel she has a reason for that grudge. You wouldn’t have spent all morning doing paperwork you don’t like if you didn’t have to make up for something.”

  “I don’t have to make up for anything!”

  “You stirred things up plenty yesterday.”

  “She stirred things up.”

  “You can tell the story any way you like,” Vlad said, pushing off from the doorway. “That’s not going to change what is.”

  “Bite me.”

  “You’re too sour today. I’d rather . . .”

  Simon shot to his feet.

  Vlad stared at Simon, then held up his hands. “I’m going over there at her request to answer her questions—nothing more. You have my word on that, Wolfgard.”

  It was foolish to fight with a friend when he knew Vlad was pulling his tail because of his behavior yesterday, and it was worse than foolish to fight with one of the Sanguinati. But it took more effort than it should have to accept Vlad’s word.

  Forcing himself to shift all the way back to human, Simon sat down and picked up a pen as if everything was settled. “If you have to sample someone, do us all a favor and bite Asia Crane.”

  Vlad laughed. “Now you’re just being mean.”

  * * *

  Based on the pictures she had studied as part of her identification training, Vlad would have been labeled the tall, dark stranger, the dangerous thrill.

  He scared her. His movements were more sinuous than the other earth natives she’d seen. They practically shouted they were predators. With Vlad, she didn’t think humans realized the danger until it was too late.

  And yet he was courteous and didn’t crowd her while he checked the labels on the boxes she had set aside, and agreed that they should go on the trucks delivering supplies to other terra indigene.

  He called Jester and asked for a pony and sled to transport the packages, explaining while they waited that the drivers would know better which packages should go in which truck.

  Jester arrived with a pony named Twister, and he and Vlad loaded the packages into the small sled. Then Twister pulled the sled to the area where the trucks were parked.

  “If there is nothing else, I must get back to the store,” Vlad said with a smile. “Simon is doing paperwork today, so it’s better for the customers if someone else deals with them.” As he walked away, he added, “But I expect the Wolfgard will be ready for a break and some fresh air around lunchtime.”

  Which meant the Wolf might poke his nose around the office and find something else she had done wrong—at least according to the whims of Simon Wolfgard.

  “What are you going to do with these packages?” Jester asked, looking at the ones still on the handcart. “Do you want me to send Twister back for them?”

  “No,” Meg said quickly. “I thought I would take out the BOW and
deliver these in person. You did say I could do that as part of my duties.”

  “Yes, I did.” The laughter in his eyes told her plainly enough he knew why she didn’t want to be around during the lunch break. “Have you unhooked the BOW from its energy cord yet?”

  She shook her head. That was just one of the things she hadn’t tried to do yet.

  “Then I’ll do that and bring it around for you this time.”

  “Would it be all right if I take the map with me until I learn my way around?”

  No laughter now. “It’s not something you want to misplace.”

  Or give to anyone else. “I’ll be careful with it.”

  A different kind of laughter filled his eyes now. Sharp, almost predatory. “Why don’t I get another copy for you at the Three Ps? It’s just across the way. Lorne is a human, but he’s dependable despite that.” Jester’s smile told Meg plainly enough that not all humans who had worked for the Others had been dependable. “Three Ps stands for Postage, Printing, and Paper. Lorne sells different kinds of stationery, as well as the stamps needed to mail things outside the Courtyard. And he prints the Courtyard’s weekly newsletter.”

  “You have a newsletter?” Surprise made her blurt out the words.

  “Of course we have a newsletter. How else would we know which movies are being shown at the social room in each residential complex? How else would everyone know about the new books that arrived and are available in our library?” Jester pressed one hand to his chest. “How else would we learn from Ms. Know-It-All’s column, ‘Others Etiquette’?”

  “An advice column?” Meg stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

  “We don’t kid about Ms. Know-It-All,” he replied. Then he snatched up the map and left.

  Meg stood where she was, trying to sort out the words and the change in Jester’s attitude when she asked if she could take the map. He’d brought her the map in the first place and warned her to be careful. Now he was telling her where to make copies and that she could buy stamps to mail letters to people outside the Courtyard. Was he trying to get her into trouble?