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what exactly up north for the Loa then?"
"Gidi Fatra, and all the rest of he order, support this thing you planning.
They want update every day about it, and more regular talk with you about they
place in the city. We go talk further about what we go help you with later."
"You didn't answer the general's question," Dihana said. "What do you think is
up in the north that brings this change?"
Mother Elene looked to the Loa, but it hissed nothing back at her.
"You have our cooperation now," Mother Elene said. "Information go be shared
later."
It was, Dihana felt, as good a start as any, and she let the matter drop with
a quick glance at Haidan.
He spread his arms and shrugged.
"That's it?" Dihana asked.
"For now. That is enough."
"Okay." Dihana looked at Haidan. "There have been attacks. Would you like
mongoose-men stationed anywhere?" Haidan coughed, disapproving her offer, and
she continued, "For protection of the
Loa? They are vulnerable without armed men to protect them."
"No," Mother Elene said. "That been thought out already. None of the Loa below
the street temples.
They hiding good. Contact the priestess them, and the Loa will hear what you
say."
"You don't trust us with your location? Not even if we gave our word to keep
the location secret?"
"Your word?" Mother Elene asked. "Not yet." She walked back to the wicker
chair, turned it around toward the door, and wheeled the Loa out of the
conference room. She closed the door behind her carefully so it didn't catch
her long, purple skirt.
"Interesting," Haidan said.
Dihana wondered what they had gained here. An order from the Loa? She wasn't
her father. They weren't even going to help with the fighting. Frustrating.
"This manuscript you have," Dihana said. "I want a copy. If the Loa are after
the same thing, I want to know everything I can."
"I go send you a copy, but I told you everything. It a machine. That all I
know."
Dihana reached out and grabbed his forearm. "But I don't think we can afford
taking away any airship just for the Loa to go north. We need them when we
start fighting."
They couldn't afford another northern trip. The previous ones, although by
ship, not airship, had not been successes. No, they would have to wait until
they knew what future, if any, Capitol City had.
"You canceling this because we can't afford it? Or is it just that you refuse
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to do anything the Loa say?"
Dihana held nothing back. "You might be right about that, but how can we be
sure we know what Loa want of us? What are they trying to do?"
"Survive," Haidan said. "When Azteca coming, that is about all you can do. If
they holding back, is because we all building trust. But we need them. Most of
this city worship them, you can't toss that aside."
True, Dihana thought. But a bad taste lingered still.
In Capitol City, Hindis prayed at their shrines, and Muslims prayed at night
toward a constellation they said held Mecca. The Holy Christian Church had
churches. In the bush, wary with hunter's expertise, the normally peaceful
Rastafarians honed warriors with the skills that kept Nanagada safe.
But no religion held as many followers in Nanagada as Vodun, for any believer
had only to walk to a church to find the Loa, pale and malformed, giving their
scratchy prophecies in a holy tongue only the
Mothers could translate.
Haidan was right. Though she would find out what the Loa thought was up north.
And wanted. But now it was time to talk to Haidan about housing more people in
Capitol City, about where to get the money to build defenses around the walls,
and how to slow the Azteca down when they arrived.
He asked her if he could put more mongoose-men out in the streets with the
ragamuffins, patrolling for trouble. The streets had become dangerous. He had
street corners, warehouses, and posts already planned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The sleeper car rocked along toward Capitol City at the end of ten other
similar square steel cars under the swept column of black smoke pouring from
the grimy engine's stack. In the dark, boxy confines tired bodies hunched
along the drop-down sleepers. Dusty streams of early-morning light flicked in
through the closed windows, strobing the inside of the car with sudden
glimpses of the weary occupants.
Some were mongoose-men making their way to Capitol City. The rest were weary
mothers and children, their possessions in packs around their feet. Some
whispered that a few people in this car were from Brewer's Village, and that
Anandale would fall within the week yet. Three days of service remained before
the trains withdrew and the northern tracks were destroyed behind them by the
mongoose-men.
The train was crammed with people fleeing up the northern coast toward the
city.
Oaxyctl sat on the hard bench seat, looking at John deBrun's hook hanging
loose from the bunk above him. It moved in rhythm with the sway of the car
over the tracks. With each clack Oaxyctl counted off the increasing miles
between the advancing Azteca and himself. The farther they got, the more he
could relax.
They'd come far in few days. Oaxyctl pushing through forest with no care for
leaving tracks in his hurry to keep in front of any Azteca. John kept up with
him. Both mute, hardly able to talk when pushing through the jungle, wary and
nervous, alert for any strange sound, they kept on until they found the tracks
and followed them to a station.
Oaxyctl's skin itched from sticky leaves, his eyes burned, and he was hungry,
but at least he lived. And had his prize. In Capitol City Oaxyctl would find
some quimichtin contacts posing as Tolteca and get the tools he wanted for
this grisly task of pulling the information he wanted from John. They might
even find him a soundproofed room.
He had the time, now, to do everything right. The way the god wanted. Oaxyctl
relaxed. It will turn out okay, he told himself.
Or unlucky, he thought.
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