Across the Great Barrier

CHAPTER 14

PROFESSOR TORGESON GAVE WASH A DISAPPROVING LOOK. “You might have mentioned that earlier, Mr. Morris,” she said, and then started right in asking questions. Wash spent the rest of the ride answering them.

A few years before the Secession War, the abolitionists who ran the Underground Railroad had started having problems hiding and protecting the slaves they’d helped escape to freedom in the North. Some of the Southern plantation owners started putting tracking spells and control spells on slaves they figured were especially dangerous or likely to run away. A bunch of abolitionists got arrested as a result, and a whole batch of people who thought they’d gotten away ended up being sent back into slavery.

So the Northern abolitionists decided they needed some help. They went to the anti-slavery advocates from New Asante and Tswala and all the rest of the Aphrikan colonies in South Columbia. The South Columbians had been working on stopping the slave trade for years. Some of them wanted to stick to diplomacy and economic methods, but there were plenty of others who were willing to send money and magicians to help out.

The first thing they did was find ways to interfere with the tracking and control spells so that slaves could get away safely. Then they had to figure out where to send them, and someone thought of the Western Territories.

Back then, nobody but a few squatters lived west of the Mammoth River. The magicians in the Frontier Management Department were still working on inventing protection spells to keep the wildlife away from settlers and travelers, and there was still a good bit of safe land east of the river that hadn’t been settled yet, so most folks felt that heading West wasn’t worth the risk.

But the South Columbian magicians had developed their own ways of dealing with the wildlife, on account of not having a Great Barrier Spell to protect part of their colonies, and everyone agreed that no one would look for runaway slaves in the West. Even if someone followed a slave up to the river, they’d figure that once he crossed, the wildlife would get him for sure, so they’d quit looking.

The abolitionists started sending runaway slaves west to hidden settlements in the unexplored territory. Seven different South Columbian colonies sent money to pay for seed and tools, and magicians to teach the Aphrikan magic they used to protect their own towns. The settlements did pretty well for being new and unprotected; Wash said they had fewer deaths than the first few years’ worth of settlements that the Settlement Office approved later on.

When the Western Territories opened up for settlement right after the Secession War, some of the hidden ex-slave settlements applied for official recognition. Others pretended they were ordinary groups of settlers applying for allotments. There was some trouble over it, until the Settlement Office pointed out that all the ex-slave settlements were so far away from the Mammoth River that nobody else wanted to live there, anyway.

Promised Land was one of the last batch of hidden settlements that the abolitionists and ex-slaves had set up. It was founded in the 1820s, just before the Secession War. By then, the abolitionists and the South Columbians really knew what they were doing, so the settlement had done well right from the start. They’d picked a site along one of the creeks that fed the Red River, where there were plenty of trees for building. Just below the town, the creek flattened out into wetlands full of black rice that the settlers could harvest, and they had the trading camp up the river, which became St. Jacques du Fleuve, where they could trade furs for tools and seed with Gaulish trappers who didn’t care one way or the other about them being former slaves.

To hear Wash tell it, the settlers were actually pretty relieved when the Secession War broke out, because once it did, they didn’t have to fret over the Southern states getting the Frontier Management Department to send any ex-slaves they caught back to the owners they’d run away from. The settlers were even better pleased when President John Sergeant signed the Abolition Proclamation forbidding slavery anywhere in the United States of Columbia or its territories.

After the war, Promised Land was one of the first of the hidden settlements to get all official with the new Homestead Claims and Settlement Office. They’d been growing at a good clip for the past nineteen years, some from the childings I could see running around and some from new settlers moving up from the Southern states.

By the time Wash finished up all his explaining, we were close in to the settlement, and I could tell that the houses weren’t bushes after all. The walls were made of twigs woven together, like the chairs some of the lumbermen made, and the houses were short because they were partly dug into the ground. I wondered what they were like in winter. The settlement was about thirty years old; they had to be warm enough, or people would have changed to a different kind of building.

“Folks here look to be a lot better off than most of the settlements we’ve been to,” I said.

“Promised Land didn’t have quite such a bad time of things with the grubs,” Wash said. “They only lost about half their regular crop, and they had the black rice to fall back on.” Seeing my curious expression, he went on, “Black rice grows in shallow water; any grubs that tried to get at it drowned.”

“Only half the crop,” Professor Torgeson said thoughtfully. “That’s interesting. I wonder why that would be? The woodlands here are as dead as everywhere else.”

Wash shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Promised Land was settled before the magicians in Washington worked out the settlement protection spells, and they weren’t official, anyway, so they had to work out other ways to keep safe from the wildlife. What they do must not have been quite so interesting to the grubs as the regular spells.”

“Are the other settlements established by the South Columbians in similarly good shape?” the professor asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Professor,” Wash said. “Most of them are down in the Middle Plains Territory, or even farther south. This is the only one on my circuit.”

The professor hmphed. “And probably the only one affected by the grubs, then; I don’t think the dratted things got down to the Middle Plains. Still, we’ll have to look into it. Do you know what spells these people use in place of the standard settlement protection spells?”

“You’ll have to ask them,” Wash said.

The professor narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll do that, Mr. Morris.”

Right about then, six childings came running toward us, yelling Wash’s name. Their ages ranged from six or seven to around sixteen, I thought, and their skin tone from a deep tan to black as widow’s weeds. Wash pulled up and called out, “Lattie, Tam, all of you — stop right there! You know better than to chance spooking a horse.”

The childings slowed to a walk, but they kept on coming. “Stop, I said,” Wash told them. “Else I’ll stable these horses myself, and send you all off to tell Mr. Ajani and Mrs. Turner exactly why I’m slow coming to see them.”

All of the childings froze instantly. I was impressed. Either those childings thought Mr. Ajani and Mrs. Turner were fearsome people, or else they really, really liked being the ones who stabled Wash’s horse.

Wash dismounted, and the professor and I followed. “Now, then,” Wash said, studying the group. “Jefferson, Siri, Martin, why don’t you take the horses, and Chrissy can follow to make sure you do a good job.” He winked at the littlest childing, who straightened up proudly. “Lattie, if you would go tell Mr. Ajani —”

One of the girls stepped forward, scowling. “Who are they?” she demanded, waving at Professor Torgeson and me. “Why did you bring them? They’re Avrupans!”

“No, we’re not,” I said without thinking.

Lattie stuck her nose up in the air. “I wasn’t talking to you. And you are so Avrupan.”

“Professor Torgeson is from Vinland,” I said. “I’m Columbian, same as you.”

The girl looked confused; Wash looked like he was trying to hide a smile. “What are you talking about?” Lattie asked suspiciously.

“You were born here in Promised Land, right?” I said. Lattie nodded warily. “Promised Land is in the North Plains Territory,” I went on. “The North Plains Territory is part of the United States of Columbia. I was born out East, in Helvan Shores, but that’s still in the United States. So we’re both Columbians.”

“Now you’ve got that settled,” Wash broke in, “I’m thinking you’d best go let Mr. Ajani and Mrs. Turner know we’re here, Lattie.”

Lattie gave me one more resentful look, then ran off. “That was an interesting argument,” Wash said to me once she was out of hearing.

I smiled, remembering. “Lan and I had that exact same discussion with William, back when we were ten and he was nine. William argued a lot longer, but he’s always been stubborn.”

A few minutes later, we saw Lattie approaching with a man and a woman. The man’s hair was short and snow white, and there was a grayish undertone to his dark skin that made it look like a cloth that’s been washed so often that the color’s started to fade. His companion looked to be a few years older than Wash. Her hair was still solid black, and she had it gathered up in a ball at the nape of her neck; her skin was about four shades lighter than her hair, more brown than black. They had the sort of look about them that made me want to check that my collar was straight and my hair wasn’t windblown.

As they came up to us, a shiver ran all down my spine and a coolness spread across my chest. It felt familiar, but I couldn’t place it. At that exact minute, the woman gave me a sharp look.

“Mr. Ajani, Mrs. Turner,” Wash said, nodding politely. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I am always glad to see you, Mr. Morris,” the older man replied. “Even when you come to tell me of my most unsatisfactory grandchildren.” His voice was deep and precise, and his eyes had a twinkle that told me he didn’t mean that the way it sounded.

“Those would be the same grandchildren you spoil unmercifully whenever they’re here?” the woman said.

“The very same,” Mr. Ajani said, smiling. “I find it most unsatisfactory that they do not spend more time listening to their grandfather.”

The woman just rolled her eyes. “Who have you brought to meet us, Wash?” she asked, with a pointed look at Mr. Ajani.

“This is Professor Aldis Torgeson and her assistant, Miss Eff Rothmer,” Wash said. “Mr. Ajani, Mrs. Isabel Turner.”

“Torgeson?” Mrs. Turner said when we were all done murmuring pleased-to-meet-you. “From Scandia?”

“Vinland,” Professor Torgeson said.

Mrs. Turner smiled and nodded, and asked if we’d come inside out of the sun. Mr. Ajani led the way down a few steps into one of the houses. Inside it was as cool as a root cellar, even though it wasn’t anywhere near as deep or dark. The windows were a little higher up than I was accustomed to. The floor was made of flat rocks fitted together, with a big rag rug in the indent, and a wooden wall split the inside of the house into two parts. The front room, where we came in, was plainly for cooking and eating and talking, just like Rennie’s house; I figured the back part would be the sleeping rooms, though we didn’t see them.

We sat on wooden benches around a plain table with a white tablecloth over it. Mrs. Turner brought out some cups and a pitcher of cool water, then fussed around with plates and biscuits and fixings, while Mr. Ajani asked the professor very politely why we were out riding circuit with Wash.

The professor explained about the survey of plants and animals west of the Great Barrier Spell, and Mr. Ajani got interested right away. Next thing we knew, the two of them were hip deep in talking and it looked as if we wouldn’t ever find out why the settlement had sent a message out asking for Wash.

Mrs. Turner sat down at last and passed a honey jug. She looked at Mr. Ajani and shook her head, but she had a bit of a smile, too. “He never changes,” she said to Wash. “Now, as it appears we’ll be a time getting to business, maybe you’ll tell me more about your student here.” And she nodded at me.

I couldn’t help staring, though I knew it was rude. And then I recollected Wash saying, “That pendant only moves one way. Teacher to student,” and suddenly I knew that Mrs. Turner had something similar. I’d felt it when I first saw her, and she must have felt mine. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt that shiver, either; there was that woman in West Landing, too, only I hadn’t known then what it meant. It made sense that there would be more than one, if the pendant was a tool for teaching. I just hadn’t thought about it before.

Mrs. Turner’s eyes flicked to me just once, then held steady on Wash, but I knew she was aware of every move I made. I froze, the same way the childings had at the mention of her name, though I wasn’t sure why. I just knew that I didn’t want any more of her attention than I already had, and I had a sight more than she was letting on in public.

“She’s more Miss Maryann’s student than mine,” Wash said calmly.

Both Mrs. Turner’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say anything. She just kept on looking at Wash. Wash smiled. “Five years at the day school in Mill City,” he said.

“You think that’s more important?”

“I do when it’s Miss Maryann.”

“She agreed with you?”

“After.”

“When it was too late,” Mrs. Turner said.

“I didn’t say she was best pleased by it.” Wash sounded right irritated, though I couldn’t have said why.

“I see.” Mrs. Turner gave a small sigh. “I do hope you know what you’ve done.”

“After nigh on thirty years, I’d hope so, too,” Wash said, looking back at Mrs. Turner just as steady as she’d been looking at him.

By that point, I was getting as irritable as Wash sounded. I’d only just met Mrs. Turner, and I didn’t see that she had any call to disapprove of me yet. It wouldn’t have been polite to say anything, though, and besides, I was a little nervous of giving her a real reason to dislike me, so I sat up straight and put on my company manners and sipped at my water, pretending they were talking about someone else and I wasn’t interested in the least.

There was the sound of a throat clearing. “Isabel,” said Mr. Ajani in the same warning tone that I remembered Papa using when Robbie and Lan and Jack were starting to get out of hand.

Mrs. Turner hesitated, then sat back. “All right, if you insist,” she said.

“I do,” Mr. Ajani said firmly. “We didn’t ask for Mr. Morris’s presence in order to scold him for decisions that were his to make in the first place.”

“I’m right happy to hear that,” Wash said. “And I confess to a considerable curiosity as to why you did ask me to drop by.”

“Daybat Creek has gone dry,” Mr. Ajani said. “All at once, about three weeks back.”

Wash set his cup down, frowning. “All at once?”

Mr. Ajani nodded. “And we’ve had more than enough rain, before and after the creek stopped running. Enough to keep the rice lake from dropping much so far, at least.”

“You sent to Adashome?” Wash said, staring out into the air like he was concentrating on something that wasn’t there to be seen.

“First thing,” Mrs. Turner put in. “The creek is running fine at their end of it.”

“So there’s more than likely a problem in the Forth Hills,” Wash finished. “Giant beavers, maybe; they’d have an easy time of dam building with all this dead wood.”

“We’d like to be sure,” Mr. Ajani said.

Mrs. Turner frowned. “More than that, we’d like to get the creek flowing again,” she said tartly.

“Can’t work on that until we know what the problem is,” Wash told her. “I’m sorry, Professor Torgeson, but unless you want to ride upstream to the Forth Hills, I’m afraid you and Eff are going to be spending a week in Promised Land.”

“Nonsense,” Professor Torgeson said before my heart had time to do more than lurch at the thought of staying behind. “It would be foolish to miss a chance to register the plants and animals of an unpeopled woodland. Of course we’ll come with you.”

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. I had a notion that I wouldn’t have enjoyed spending a week in the same settlement as Mrs. Turner, and now I wouldn’t have to.