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There’s an expression among ChanceFolk. “As go the Arápache, so go the nations.” As the most financially successful, and arguably the most politically important ChanceFolk tribe, policy that’s put in place here often spreads to other tribes. While the Arápache are still the most isolationist, instituting borders that require passports, many other tribes—particularly the ones that don’t rely on tourism—have made their territory harder to access as well, taking their lead from the Arápache. On the outside, most people have no idea how many boulders are already in the river. If Lev can find a way to pull those boulders together, the course of history may very well change.
The problem is Wil Tashi’ne and what happened the first time Lev was here.
Like Una, the Arápache see Lev as a harbinger of doom. A victim of his own society perhaps, but like a bearer of the plague, he brings to them a taste of things they’d rather not know about. If he’s going to have any sway here, he’s going to have to win them over.
• • •
On Saturday he tells the Tashi’nes he’s going into town.
“There’s a band playing in Héétee Park,” he tells them. “I’d like to hear them.”
“Do you think it’s wise to be so visible?” Chal asks him. “The council is happy to look the other way as long as you keep a low profile, but the more visible you are, the more likely they are to take issue with your presence.”
“I can’t hide forever,” he tells him. He keeps to himself what he’s really planning.
Although Kele begs to come, he’s been grounded for cursing in Arápache—something he thought he could get away with, but didn’t. A good thing too. The last thing Lev wants is to put Kele in the middle of this. He needs to go alone.
• • •
The concert has already started when Lev arrives. There are maybe two hundred people spread out on blankets and lawn chairs picnicking and enjoying the warm August day. The band is good. They play a curious mix of traditional native music, pop, and oldies. Something for everyone.
Lev lingers, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but he sees the occasional person spot him and whisper to the person beside them. Well, they’ll have plenty more to gossip about in a few minutes.
Lev makes his way toward the front, and as soon as the band finishes their first set, he pulls two pieces of paper from his pocket and climbs to the stage. He pulls the lead singer’s microphone down a few inches so he can speak without it blocking his face.
“Excuse me,” he says. “Excuse me, can I have your attention!” He’s startled by how loud and resonant his voice sounds. “My name is Levi Jedediah Garrity—but you probably know me as Lev Calder. I was a Mahpee taken in by the Tashi’ne family.”
“We know who you are,” someone shouts dismissively from the audience. “Now get off the stage.”
A smattering of agreement—some derisive laughter. He ignores it all. “I was there when Wil Tashi’ne offered himself to parts pirates in exchange for more than a dozen lives—including mine. Although one of the parts pirates died there, the two who lived took Wil, sold him to be unwound, and got away.”
“Yeah, tells us something we don’t know,” yells another heckler.
“I plan to,” Lev says. “Because I’ve found out their names, and I know where to find them.”
Then he holds out the two pieces of paper—each one featuring an enlarged image of a parts pirate. One with a missing ear, the other with a face like a goat.
Suddenly the entire crowd is silent.
“Chandler Hennessey and Morton Fretwell. They hunted AWOLs for a while in Denver, but now they’re trolling Minneapolis.” Then he puts the pictures down and gets as close to the microphone as he can. “I’m going to track them down and bring them back here to face justice.” And then, in perfect Arápache:
“Who will help me?”
The silence continues.
“I said, who will help me?”
For a long moment, Lev thinks no one will come forward, but then he hears a single voice—a woman’s voice—from the back of the crowd.
“I will,” she says in Arápache.
It’s Una. Lev hadn’t even seen her here. He’s both grateful and troubled. He was hoping to put together a good old-fashioned posse. If it’s just the two of them, what chance do they have of bringing in these pirates? What chance do they have of even surviving the attempt?
As Una moves through the crowd toward the stage, someone shouts, “C’mon! Clap for the clapper!”
o;Where did they take you?” a wide-eyed stork asks.
“Into the sky,” Starkey tells him. “And we have friends in very high places.”
