Quite a few people emerged from where they were working, for none of the five men were familiar to anyone here. Strangers on horseback? That was a novelty.
Most likely, Betty decided as she set down her shovel, they came from some settlement that had not been able to spare the manpower for longer distance exploration until now.
"Who is in charge here?" the lead rider called.
Larry stepped forward. "I'm one of the Councilors. What do you need?"
"A parley," the man said, dismounting. "We've known you people were here, but it seemed best to keep some distance until now."
The rider sounded gruff, but okay, Betty thought. This was exactly the sort of contact Steffi had talked about. Of course, did they have to worry about exchanging young people now?
"Same. How are your people integrating?"
"Depends," the rider said. "We've got some serious malcontents and then we have the Mayor." His tone put the Mayor in the same place as malcontents, and perhaps branded him as one himself. Whoever the Mayor was or whatever he was doing.
The...Mayor. Betty mouthed that.
"Which Mayor?"
"Chicago. He's about sixty and has delusions of putting the city back together. We figured we'd at least go through some motions to keep him quiet."
"And who," Larry asked, "is not just going through the motions?"
Betty flinched, but he had a point.
"Quite a few people. He wants to bring all of Chicago back into civilization, including outlying settlements like this. I think he has delusions of an upgrade to President."
"Can we expect an attempt to persuade us to knuckle under, then?" Larry regarded the riders.
"Probably. I doubt it'll go past persuasion, though."
Betty wondered if it was a good idea or a bad one. Putting the city back together meant more people, but that put a strain on resources.
"I'm not sure that it's a good idea at this point. Better to keep the population somewhat scattered."
The rider glanced around. "We're working on a better idea. In the interim, I don't suppose there's some beer around here?"
They vanished into the tavern, leaving their horses picketed. Betty studied the animals critically. Something was wrong, something she did not like. Finally, she placed it.
Three of the five had spur marks on their sides, nasty ones. That was not how you got the best out of a horse, and any good rider knew it. So, they were bad riders. What did that mean?
Probably not much. She had met pretty lousy riders before who were otherwise good people. Yet, it was something to keep an eye on. She found some carrots and gave the animals treats. One, a chestnut with a large snip, seemed to have a preference for finger. Betty barely managed to avoid being bitten. She could not help but notice it was one of the ones with spur marks. And where had they found that bit?
Just what was lying around, she supposed, but her mind was heading for high alert. These men were trouble, for all their talk about 'going through the motions'.
Still, she had work to do.
That night, the tavern burned to the ground.
-#-
Half the population stood around the ashes. "All the beer was in there," Henry mourned.
But what else was? It was Winston who voiced the worst. "Is everyone accounted for?"
Three people turned up missing. Larry and two of the Recovered, both women. There were blackened human bones in the ruins.
The five riders had left early, or so it seemed. Betty wondered at that. Was she being paranoid to suspect them of something? Or was it quite a reasonable feeling? Maybe it was just because they were strangers.
Larry was dead. Betty could not let herself mourn too much, but she felt as if it had almost been a waste of time to rescue him. A waste of time bringing him back only for him to die stupidly like this. Plus, they would need to replace him on the council. That would not be easy, he had done a lot of the work around here, but also taken a lot of the risks. She supposed that it was inevitable he would be the one they lost, but like this? This was stupid.
Why had they not got out? The building was not that large and the locks on the doors were flimsy. They were only really enough to deter most people from taking excessive amounts of beer.
Betty turned and walked away, unable to bear being there anymore. She walked over to the horse breeding corrals, halfway to the other side of the village. The year's foals were weanlings, all in a bunch in their shelter. Snow began to fall from above her, and she winced at its cold kiss. Winter was not a good time for everything to go to hell.
“Mayor of Chicago” her foot. There was something else going on, something not good. She wished she had hidden their horses. Or did she just not want to believe it was an accident? Maybe they had put too much fuel on the fire and fwoosh. It wasn't like the place was particularly well built. Nothing they had was; there were no skills to make stone buildings even if they had the stone.
Unless, of course, they had left before it happened. A whinney came from somewhere off to the right. Moon, the grey stallion, was pacing his corral as he often did. He was not the quietest of horses, but he had such power and spirit they were breeding him anyway.
She walked over to the fence. "Hey, you feeling lonely?"
He whinnied again and she reached up to rub his nose. He might not be quiet, but he had never bitten her. He only bit people who picked fights with him...
The chestnut mare had wanted to bite anyone who came near, and that was a warning sign too. For aggressive neighbors and the prospect of conflict. Was that what “rebuilding” meant? Did they have to have the bad back with the good?
Watching Moon, she wondered. Horses were so much more straightforward than people.
She did not see the man who came up behind her. Her first warning was when she felt a hand over her mouth.
She did what anyone would. She bit it. The man yelped came and she squirmed away, running.
Betty risked a glance over her shoulder as she ran. It was one of the strangers. He had a bridle over one shoulder.
She had to raise the alarm, for their intent was suddenly very obvious indeed.
-#-
Half the village was on horseback, chasing towards the breeding corrals. The men had already got away with Moon and three mares, riding to the south and east. However, their trail was easy to follow.
Betty knew she had been lucky. Had he been smarter, he would have slit her throat, but maybe he had not wanted to kill.
She leaned forward a little on the spotted mare. "I hope Moon takes a good big chunk out of one of them."
Winston called a response, "Do you want to poison Moon?"
She laughed, instantly feeling better. They were just horse rustlers. "I've seen how they treat their horses. Spur tracks everywhere."
"They do that to Moon, he'll kill them."
That was probably an accurate prediction. They took the community’s best three mares, though. They might not know how to treat horses, but they knew how to judge them. Something prickled at her, but she was not sure what it was.
If they had burned the tavern down, then they had killed. Or had they? Maybe they had thought nobody was in there. That was not at all unfeasible. The fire had happened after normal closing time, after all.
Hooves carried her, and then they found them. They were trying to get a saddle on Moon. He was objecting, he reared and struck. One of them hit him with a whip.
"He's going to kill them," Winston predicted, a moment before the whip wielder went down under hooves and Moon broke free.
Seeing his herd, Moon ran right towards her. She knew she could not flinch, but the mare darted to the side to let him past, albeit with a snap of her teeth towards the stallion's flanks.
"We were expecting you," said one man. A second was examining his downed friend.
Betty hoped the man was dead: there were whip marks on Moon and he was sweating across his neck and shoulders, his eyes wide and his ears pinned. He had one of those horri
ble bits in his mouth, so she did not reach to take the reins. He wasn't about to leave his herd.
"Expecting..."
"Who's protecting your people?"
"Hell," somebody swore, and turned to take off back towards the village.
Betty did not follow. She lifted her gun and pointed it right at the man speaking. Could she pull the trigger on a human being? He was not a Silent. She had never knowingly killed a man, and she found in this moment she could not. Oh, she wanted to, but her finger turned into ice. Maybe it still looked good.
"I suggest you go protect your village, little girl."
"We're not falling for that." The three mares were in a frightened huddle with the riders' horses.
She still could not pull the trigger. Then shots echoed from behind her. The lead man fell to the ground and the other three scrambled for their horses, horses which did not want to let them mount, dodging sideways as their feet went for the stirrups.
More shots. None of the three got away. Each one fell, and while Betty wasn't sure who was in the trees, she...she was alive, and Moon and the strangers' horses were milling around. One of the other horses bolted into the woods. Winston lowered his rifle. She hadn't realized one of the shots had come from him.
"They were bluffing to save their asses," said Winston.
Betty had a halter hooked to her saddle. She tried to get it over Moon's head, but the stallion did not want her to touch him, shying away.
"It's okay, lad. I won't touch that thing." Somebody moved to the other side of him, placed a hand on his neck and she finally got the halter on. She'd get the bridle off once they had him in the corral. The bridle was good enough to keep, but she reckoned she was throwing that bit in some body of water. "Poor guy," she said, quietly. "We'll get that thing off you."
The other horses had been rounded up, and she turned to ride back, leading Moon. It was probably stupid to lead a stallion from a mare, but it was winter. He wouldn't try anything until spring, until that time and season came again, flowing through his blood.
The village was right ahead of them, yet the sounds and smells from it were clear. There had been an attack after all.
Chapter Nine
The people had been corralled in the street. With the best fighters gone after the thieves, they had not been able to resist.
Betty sneaked along the back of the houses, the far side from the park. She was one of the smallest; it had made sense to send her. She was surprised to bump into somebody.
She restrained an “oof,” but the other person was not quite as controlled.
"Oof." A high, female voice. A familiar one. Grace.
Grace must have wriggled away from the invaders, and she was one of the stealthiest people Betty had ever met in her life. No better partner for this. She placed a hand over her lips, and Grace nodded, then indicated they should go further away.
After a moment, she followed the younger girl.
"They all showed up after you left. Threatened to kill anyone who didn't do as they were told. They're about to start laying down the law. Apparently, it's for our own good to rebuild society."
Betty smiled at her. "Reckon we can get close enough to hear what they have in mind?"
"If you can, I can."
They sneaked. People were being pushed into the open space where the tavern had stood, herded like animals.
"Okay. There is no need for this treatment to continue. Cooperate and you will lose nothing."
His words were met only by a sea of mulish faces. Even the Recovered did not move to cooperate.
"Well, let me lay it down here. You disband your council, we will appoint a Mayor. You answer to that person, and it will be one of your people, no worries. There will be trade."
Betty heard another t word. Taxes. She had heard that word mentioned before as a bad thing. One of the few things they had been glad to be rid of.
"We don't ask for much, and we won't even ask you to move. However, we will need people for labor."
There was a murmur. If he took people away, then who was going to do the spring planting?
"Nothing onerous, but if you don't..." The threat was there. "Obviously, we'll want to move back to a money system as quickly as is reasonable, but that's going to take time. In the interim, taxation will be in the form of labor or goods." He lifted a hand. "Hear me out. If we are going to return to civilized life, we are going to need to clear the roads, demolish the unsafe buildings and start work on some kind of power plant."
How did Betty handle this? How would others? The prospect of electricity, that would attract the old-timers, but these outsiders had taken over by force. They weren't offering people the choice. Yet, how many of the Recovered, for whom that past world was still so recent, would go over to their side willingly? Most, perhaps. She glanced at Grace.
The girl shook her head and mouthed something which looked like a rather emphatic no. She was not going to support them. Betty didn't understand why.
"What if we don't want to be part of this?"
"You'd rather continue to live in squalor?"
Somebody else called, "Taxation without representation."
"Democracy has to come after order. It will come, we promise."
Betty shook her head. No, it wouldn't. They would have power and they would not let it go. She would not want to let power go herself if she had it; she recognized that dark side in herself. She saw it in them, too.
The man continued, "We will draw up a roster. If everyone gives a little, nobody will be expected to sacrifice a lot. Anyone who resists, however, will find themselves spending extended periods on the worst duties."
She realized that was almost a reassurance that they wouldn't shoot anyone. If this was civilization, did she want any part in it?
-#-
"So, if we go in there..." Martin, a grizzled and dark skinned man, regarded her, thoughtfully.
"We'll be outnumbered," Betty reported, glancing at Grace. "I'd guess some old-timers and a good chunk of the Recovered will go with what they said for the promise of electricity."
"That's a big hook with a fat worm on it. Dunno if they can do it. It might almost be worth putting up with them."
"And if they pull people from planting, we'll all be hungry." She wondered if the invaders were Recovered themselves, city folk with no clue, as the old-timers said. Betty could not imagine having no clue about planting and harvesting. How did they eat?
She did know what a city was supposed to be. She knew it as ruins and crumbled buildings. What it had been? She struggled to imagine that.
"Point. We should at least try negotiating with them."
He was right. "Try. But I don't think we're going to succeed. They don't strike me as the type to want to budge on their terms." Betty closed her eyes, forced herself to take several deep breaths. "Part of me wishes they had not recovered...no, it doesn't, not really, but..."
"Don't worry. Whatever happens, you'll be fine. We might end up going hungry, but we won't starve. We might have to throw them out on their asses, but...how many again?"
"About twenty that I saw. They probably couldn't have taken us without their distraction, but now they're the ones inside the defenses. They can use our people as a shield."
"Can and no doubt will," Winston grumbled from nearby. "They're clearly assholes."
"I think they have a worthwhile goal." Martin shook his head. "They are just not going about things the right way."
"That's because they like violence. People who like violence aren't going to rebuild anything," Winston said, finally. "But if we can't take them..."
"Betty, Winston, Grace. You guys go in. You're the least threatening, they'll believe you if you surrender."
Grace's eyes widened.
"No, no arguments. You'll find out a lot more about what they're really up to that way. The rest of us are going to try and find some wildlings."
"They'll be in winter camp," Betty suggested.
"That should make
it easier," Martin said, stretching and standing up. "I know it's not easy, but go. All three of you. If we can just nudge them to a better path..."
Betty knew he was right. She stood up. The snow was starting again. "You should be under shelter."
"We'll find some, don't worry."
She patted the spotted mare's nose. She needed the horse less than the others did, but somehow it felt wrong to abandon her. She had been so important and done so much for Betty.
As they turned to leave, Steffi rode up on a lathered horse.
-#-
"Maybe you don't have to go after all," Martin mused as the woman dismounted.
"Assholes," Steffi pronounced. "I'm so glad I found you guys."
"What have they done, other than promising to 'tax' us?" Betty asked before anyone else could speak.
"Just wandering around inspecting everything, criticizing and nagging. Our buildings aren't fireproof enough, our kids work too hard. What do they expect?"
"Sounds like typical Recovered crap to me," Martin spat.
Steffi shook her head. "Hell no. They're too savvy to be Recovered, they ride too well."
It was Steffi's opinion that maybe one in ten Recovered could sit on a horse straight. She was not wrong.
"They're using the Recovered crap to 'restore order' as far as I can tell. I don't know if they intend to try and recover Before technology or not."
"Do you think they're likely to succeed?" Martin asked, thoughtfully.
"Does it matter? No, I suppose it does matter. And they won’t succeed if they go around putting people's backs up instead of coming to us and asking if we're on board," Steffi grumbled. "And hell, one of them said that we should take adopted kids away from single people and give them to couples."
"That's Before morality," Martin pointed out. "To an extent, they're right, two parents are better. But you don't always have that luxury."
"Oh, and we're supposed to be putting together a posse to round up the wildlings and civilize or kill them. He says they'll get a choice....settle or die."
The Silent Years [The Complete Collection] Page 21