Across The Great Barrier Part 4

As soon as we had the horses tied up and watered, Wash went to talk to the other travelers who were sharing the wagonrest with us, to see about setting up a schedule for handling the protective spells overnight. Professor Torgeson pulled a pencil and a journal out of the supply pack and started listing all the different plants and birds and animals she'd seen on the day's ride. Then she asked me to mark the ones I'd seen, too, and add any I'd seen that she hadn't. As soon as Wash got back, she asked if he'd be willing to do the same, and he did. When we finished, the list took up two pages, at two columns a page in small, clear printing a" everything from gra.s.ses and wild-flowers to birds and insects and even a white-tailed deer we'd startled out of a little copse of serviceberry bushes.

I'd only added five names at the end of the list, and marked less than half of the things the professor had put down. Wash had seen all but three of the things the professor listed, all of mine, and he still had a dozen more to add. Professor Torgeson stopped him when he started to write them. "I've seen the notes you've sent Professor Jeffries," she said, "and I'd rather have no confusion. Let Miss Rothmer copy the names down for you."

"Whatever you say, Professor," Wash replied, but he didn't grin the way he usually did.

We didn't even start making camp until we finished with the professor's journal, except for watering the horses, so it was getting dark by the time we finished eating. I was worn right out from riding so long, and I went to sleep as soon as we finished clearing up.

I maybe shouldn't have been quite so eager to bed down, because the next morning I was so stiff and sore I could hardly move. But Professor Torgeson wasn't much better off, and she was up at first light, taking notes on which birds started calling first.

We spent that second day at the wagonrest a" or, rather, all around it. The professor said that with only two of us doing the survey and only a few months to do it in, I would need to do more than take notes and handle supplies, and I might as well start right off doing it.

So she spent the morning working her way around the north side of the wagonrest, showing me how to list the plants and insects I found, and mark the signs of animals and birds. She wanted a count of different kinds of things, and how many of each kind, and a bit about where each one was a" in sun or shade, rocky ground or damp soil, near trees or in the open.

"If you have time, describe or sketch what you see," she told me. "At the least, we'll want to know what stage of growth the plants are at a" whether they're just germinating, in early growth, in bud, flowering, or going to seed. Especially if it's something you're not familiar with."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to pick a few for samples?" I asked.

"We won't have room, if we start now," she said. "Besides, we already know about most of these plants; I want the lists here mostly for comparison purposes. So we can see what changes as we get farther west."

I thought about the bare wasteland we'd ridden through last summer, where the grubs and mirror bugs had eaten every growing thing there was. I'd been too busy then to think about exactly where the barren patch started and where it ended, but I was pretty sure the professor would mark it down to the nearest half inch, if she could.

So I spent the afternoon taking notes on a patch of earth near where the professor was working, measuring out a small square of ground and then listing every kind of plant in it and counting how many of them there were. The gra.s.ses were hard because they weren't very tall yet, and it was hard to tell one flat, thin blade from another. Acadian thistles and dyeroot were easy. I made sketches of two plants and a b.u.t.terfly I didn't know the names of. The bugs were the hardest, because they kept moving around and I couldn't be sure whether I'd counted them. I had to put a question mark next to two different beetles, and I gave up on the ants entirely.

In the evening, the professor went over everything I'd done and pointed out things I could do better next time. She even said I'd done very well with my sketches. By the time I curled up in my bedroll that night, I was feeling pretty good about what I'd done that day.

But I was too tired to do any magic practice that night, Aphrikan or Avrupan.

CHAPTER.

7.

NEXT MORNING, WE SET OUT AGAIN, AND AFTER AN EASY DAY'S RIDE we came up on the Puerta del Oeste settlement. Puerta del Oeste was one of the older settlements west of the Mammoth River. The core had been built right after the Secession War, a tiny thing compared to a modern settlement, but in the years since it had been founded, it had grown three big loops off the original log wall, enough to house a pa.s.sel of new folks from the Eastern states, Acadia, Vinland, and even all the way from Avrupa. Now they had three settlement magicians and a full-time doctor, and the North Plains Territory had just opened a branch of the Homestead Claims and Settlement Office there.

That branch office was the main reason we stopped at the settlement instead of going straight on to the wagonrest. Even though he was acting as our guide, Wash was still a circuit-rider, and he wanted to check on the news that had come in from farther along our route.

The other reason was that Professor Torgeson wanted to recruit an official observer to send information back to the college on a regular schedule. She'd spent the last month looking over all Professor Jeffries's old records, and then she and Professor Jeffries had spent every spare minute for two days holed up in his office, coming up with a list of things they wanted to know and a form for reporting them.

So while Wash went off to the branch office, Professor Torgeson and I headed for the general store. It wasn't too hard to find; it was one of the biggest buildings in the oldest part of the settlement. The professor said that it was the most likely place to find a bunch of different folks all at once, and if none of them was willing to help out, they might still know someone who would be.

At least a dozen people were crammed in between the barrels and boxes that filled Code's General Store, examining tins and tools and fabric while they waited for the proprietor to get around to them. A tall woman in a blue calico dress looked up as we came in and gave a startled exclamation. A minute later, everyone in the store was looking at us.

"Settling out?" a girl asked. "Where?"

"Maury!" the tall woman said. "Mind your manners!"

"But it's what everyone wants to know," the girl said. "Why waste a lot of time asking how they are and how their trip has been so far in order to work up to it?"

"We are from the Northern Plains Riverbank College," Professor Torgeson said. There was a little stir at that, and all the people who'd been pretending not to listen stopped pretending. Most times, when someone from the college was west of the river, it was because one of the settlements was having a problem with the wildlife that the settlement magicians couldn't handle on their own.

"We're doing a survey of the wildlife farther out," I said quickly. "For research."

Everyone relaxed. "I don't suppose you folks brought along any newspapers?" one of the men asked.

Professor Torgeson smiled. "I have three," she said, much to my surprise. "The New Amsterdam International Weekly, the Was.h.i.+ngton Times, and the Long Lake City Tribune. Also the most recent issue of the Ladies' Fas.h.i.+on Monthly from Albion."

There was a hubbub as the professor pulled the papers from her carrypack and distributed them. I found out later that Wash had recommended bringing them. Half of the men bent over the New Amsterdam International first of all, shaking their heads over the one-sided battle between the Cathayan Confederacy and the Albion wars.h.i.+ps and the argument over sending the few survivors back to Albion. The other half went straight to the Long Lake City Tribune, looking for news of the national baseball league that somebody had proposed starting up. The ladies all crowded around the Fas.h.i.+on Monthly to see what sort of sleeves and necklines they should be having on their Sunday-best dresses. n.o.body seemed much interested in what was going on in Was.h.i.+ngton.

Even the store owner paused to look over the Tribune headlines. Then he turned to look at Professor Torgeson. "I a.s.sume you ladies didn't stop in just to bring us the news," he said.

"You are right, I confess," Professor Torgeson said. "I'm hoping to persuade someone here to do some work for the college. Or if not, I'm hoping you'll know someone in the settlement who'd be willing."

"What sort of work?"

The professor explained what she wanted, and two men and a woman were interested enough to ask questions. One of the men lost interest once he got it clear that there was no money in it, but the other two didn't seem to mind. In the end, Professor Torgeson decided that having two observers in the same place would be a useful double check, so she gave each of them one of her forms and showed them how to fill it out.

I stood back out of the way while they talked, and just watched. After a bit, I noticed a man in the corner, watching the professor and turning his hat over and over in his hands. He'd come in just after Professor Torgeson started pa.s.sing out the newspapers, and he looked like he was barely holding himself back from bulling right into the professor's conversation. The longer he waited, the darker his face got. A woman in a poke bonnet next to him put a hand on his arm, but it didn't seem to make much difference. I edged around to the far side of the group. I didn't want to be near anyone who had that much trouble making himself be civil.

Sure enough, the minute the professor finished her talking, he stepped up and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, though he didn't sound at all apologetic. "I couldn't help a""

"Professor," Professor Torgeson snapped.

The man looked at her with a bewildered expression The man looked at her with a bewildered expression. "Beg pardon?"

"Professor, not ma'am," she repeated, sounding a bit less cross.

"Professor? You'll be from the college in Mill City, then?" The man sounded like he wasn't sure whether to be pleased or sorry.

"I am."

"I don't suppose a" that is, my name's Carpenter, Giles Carpenter. My family and I are trying to get out to Kinderwald settlement, and they tell me we must have a guide or a spell caster to go any farther."

"That you do, unless you're one of them crazy Rationalists," the storekeeper said.

"We've been waiting at this wagonrest for a solid week!" Mr. Carpenter went on. "And I'll tell you straight, ma' a" Professor, I'm getting desperate. Could we travel with you? I can pay a littlea."

"You will have to discuss that with our guide," Professor Torgeson said. "You are staying at the wagonrest? We will be there ourselves tonight; perhaps he can advise you then."

"The only advice he's like to get is to keep waiting," one of the other men called, and several people laughed. It sounded like a sympathetic sort of laughing to me, not like making fun, but Mr. Carpenter's face darkened.

"Easy for you all to say!" he growled, and for a moment he looked downright dangerous.

"Who's your guide, ladies?" another man called. "If you're heading farther west, you need a good one."

"I believe Mr. Morris is quite competent," Professor Torgeson said in a dry tone.

"That'd be Wash Morris?" the man asked.

Professor Torgeson nodded, and someone in the back gave a low whistle. "Can't get much better than that," the first of the onlookers said, nodding.

"Perhaps we'll see you this evening, Mr. Carpenter," Professor Torgeson said, and motioned me to leave with her. As we left, I could hear the local men razzing Mr. Carpenter like a batch of schoolboys ragging on a new one, and I wondered what he'd done to set their backs up like that.

I didn't think on it much, because we ran across Wash on our way back to the town gates, and the first thing he said was, "You have mail." That was enough to knock everything else out of my head, just like that.

I had a fat letter from Mama, and Professor Torgeson had a thin, official-looking one from the college. She opened hers right off and glanced it over, then smiled and said, "Nothing that can't wait. Miss Rothmer?"

I fingered the envelope. I couldn't think why Mama would write so much, so soon, unless it was a lot of good advice she'd forgotten to give me before I left, and right then, I wasn't too keen on advice. But I couldn't hold everyone else up while I dithered, so I tore the envelope open.

Two smaller envelopes and a sheet of paper fell out, and I felt very foolish. The single page was a note from Mama saying they missed me already but she was sure I was working hard, and that she was sending along the letters from Lan and William that had come just too late for me to get at home.

I thought for a minute, then tucked the letters away in my saddlebag. I couldn't see holding Wash and the professor up, and I figured I'd have time to read them after we got camp made at the wagonrest.

When I finally did get to the letters, I was glad I'd waited. I opened Lan's first. "If you're so determined not to come East for school, why don't you try for one of the ones nearer the border?" was the first thing he said. Then he had a whole list of suggestions, from the Northern Plains Riverbank College where Papa taught to the University of New Orleans at the other end of the Mammoth River. I sighed. I should have known Lan wouldn't give up his notions without arguing.

He didn't say much else about my job with the college, except that he hoped I would have fun and to come back safe. The rest of his letter was about how much fun he was having at Simon Magus. Well, that and complaining about one of his professors, who he said was an idiot who thought he knew four times as much as he really did and what he really did know was wrong. I couldn't follow all of it, because Lan started in on magical theory almost right away, telling me all the arguments he'd have liked to use on his professor.

The last thing he said was that he wouldn't be home for the summer again this year. I wasn't too surprised. He'd only been home about one year in four since he went off to boarding school, and even then, he only stayed for a month or two at most.

This summer, he and three of his friends were working with two of the professors, cla.s.sifying a batch of new spells the college had imported from the Cathayan Confederacy and trying to develop Avrupan-style spells to do the same things.

That made me frown just a little. Lan had never really been interested in either of the other major schools of magic a" the Aphrikan or the Hijero-Cathayan a" though he didn't scorn them the way Professor Graham did. But Lan and I had grown up hearing Papa tell his students that the point of getting college schooling was to stretch yourself in new directions, so maybe it wasn't so surprising after all.

I set Lan's letter aside and opened William's. It was a lot shorter, though it covered nearly as much ground as Lan's. William didn't waste a lot of words. First he said congratulations on getting a position with the survey; then he said that he'd be staying in Belletriste for the summer, working for a company there that made railroad cars. He didn't say anything about his father, but I knew William, and I knew that if he was staying in Belletriste, it meant that Professor Graham still hadn't forgiven him.

Apart from that, I could tell that William liked Triskelion University every bit as much as Lan liked Simon Magus. He had a whole list of cla.s.ses he wanted to take in the fall, and he was planning to study evenings all summer so as to convince the professors that he could handle some of the more advanced material.

I wrote Mama and Lan each a note, saying that nothing much eventful had happened and I was enjoying the work so far. I wrote more particulars to William, because I knew he'd be interested in the way the professor recorded all the little details, from types of plants to daily weather. I left all three letters unsealed. I wasn't sure when we'd stop at a settlement where I could mail them, and in the meantime, I could keep adding things.

About the time I finished up my letters, just when the sun was going down, Mr. Carpenter showed up, looking for Wash. Not that he was hard to find; there were only three groups staying at the wagonrest that night. The wagonrest, like the settlement, had been expanded as the Western settlements grew, by adding two loops to the original log palisade, one on either side of the main circle. Mr. Carpenter's group had made camp in one of the additions; we'd set up in the main circle, along with a family by the name of Bauer who'd come north from St. Louis, heading for some relatives up along the Red River.

Mr. Carpenter spotted Professor Torgeson and me right off. His face went kind of blank when the professor pointed out Wash, talking to the Bauers' guide; then he put back his shoulders like he was giving a recitation in front of a whole school, teachers included, and walked over to join them.

I couldn't hear their talk from where I was sitting, but it didn't take many minutes before the Bauers' guide threw his hands up in the air and walked off in as much of a huff as ever I've seen on anyone west of the Mammoth River. Wash talked with Mr. Carpenter a bit longer, arguing some, it looked like. Eventually Mr. Carpenter stomped off toward his camp and Wash came back to our fire, shaking his head.

"Is there a problem?" Professor Torgeson asked him, glancing after Mr. Carpenter.

"Not for us, Professor," Wash said. "But I don't know what the Settlement Office was thinking, letting that gentleman loose in the West."

"He said he was heading for Kinderwald," the professor replied. "Since the Frontier Management Department has temporarily suspended the building of new settlements, I a.s.sume he has family there, or perhaps has purchased an allotment."

"He bought in," Wash said. "And he's in for a shock. For one thing, neither he nor anyone in his family speaks Prussian, and Kinderwald's a pure immigrant settlement a" their magician is the only one there who has any English at all. For another a well, he seems of the opinion that he can take on the wildlife with one hand tied behind his back, and no need for guides or protection spells."

"He didn't sound so unreasonable when we talked to him this afternoon," the professor said.

Wash shrugged. "Possibly he's not so plainspoken with ladies. From what he said to me, he wants to get where he's going, and he's not much accustomed to waiting. And he didn't take kindly to being told he's best off waiting here. There's more traffic through Puerta del Oeste than there will be farther on."

"Where is Kinderwald?" I asked.

"About a week south of Little Fog," Wash said. "I told him that if he was dead set on it, he could come that far with us, but we couldn't spare two weeks to get him all the way to Kinderwald and then get back to our route. He didn't much like that, either. I gather he intends to pull out in the morning."

"He's a fool if he tries to make it alone," Professor Torgeson said flatly.

Wash shrugged again. "I did my best. Possibly you can talk sense into him."

The professor looked for a minute as if she'd like to try, but then shook her head and went back to her notes. Still, she did stop off at Mr. Carpenter's camp next morning. She came back muttering about pigheaded, stubborn men. Mr. Carpenter's wagon pulled out of the wagonrest about half an hour later, right after the Bauers'. Wash shook his head, and the professor pressed her lips together, but there wasn't much either of them could do except watch him go.

CHAPTER.

8.

WE SPENT THE REST OF THAT DAY COUNTING PLANTS AND ANIMALS around the wagonrest, the same way we had at the first one. Professor Torgeson let me do one side while she did the other, though she came and checked my work around mid-morning and again a few hours later. She must not have found anything to complain of, because she just nodded and told me to keep on the way I was going. Later on, she showed me how to collect specimens, though she only kept one of the plants she'd collected herself. She had a special case for them, divided into compartments to hold small vials (for insects and seeds) and press blocks (for pressing and drying and protecting flowers and leaves).

When we left the Puerta del Oeste wagonrest the next morning, we made a sharp turn straight west. Wash warned us that soon we'd be crossing into the area that the grubs and the mirror bugs had laid to waste the summer before, and asked if the professor wanted to do any more surveying before we got there.

Professor Torgeson looked thoughtful for a moment, but then she said that we had enough to go on with and she was more concerned with doc.u.menting the new growth in the recovering area. I wasn't quite sure what she meant at first. I'd been through some of the area the summer before, when we went to Oak River, and it had looked the way I'd always thought a desert would: barren and dusty and eerily quiet. I couldn't see much recovering happening any time soon.

But two hours later, we were riding past green, green meadows and settlements with fields sprouting. From a distance, it looked almost normal, until you noticed that nearly all of the trees were dead, leafless skeletons. The grubs had eaten away all their roots and killed them. One or two had a single clump of leaves on a high branch, but that was all.

Closer up, you could see that the meadow looked a little too green a" there were no long, brown remnants of last year's gra.s.s to be seen a" and it was barely ankle high. And every hillside and uneven patch of ground had deep, irregular channels cut in them where rain had washed away the dirt. We had to slow down so the horses wouldn't stumble on the uneven footing.

Professor Torgeson made us stop to list the plants and bugs and so on. Wash picketed the horses and stood guard with the rifle while we worked, even though he still had all the protection spells for traveling up.

We ended up spending nearly three hours, and had to stop at the next wagonrest instead of going farther on the way we'd planned. Turned out that the plants that were coming back a" bluestem gra.s.s, catchfly, fleabane, milkweed a" were all natural ones, not magical. Once the professor noticed, we started hunting for the magical plants in deliberate earnest, but we only turned up one stunted flameleaf and a hardy northern sleeping rose in the whole three hours.

"Mr. Morris, is this common, in your experience?" she asked once we were finally back on our horses.

"I can't rightly say, Professor," Wash said. "The grubs that laid waste to this area were a brand-new thing. But now and again I've crossed stretches that were coming back after a wildfire, and as best I recall, the magical plants came back first."

There were a few more magical plants around the wagonrest than there had been along the road a" another flameleaf, three clumps of goldengra.s.s, a scattering of demonweed, and a couple of spindly witchvines a" and the professor got excited all over again. We didn't leave until nearly mid-morning, and then only because Wash said if we waited much longer, we wouldn't make the next wagonrest by nightfall.

We made pretty good time to begin with, but shortly after noon, Wash pulled his horse to a stop at the crest of a low hill.

"Something wrong?" Professor Torgeson asked.