I’ve shown Maryanne ingredients from both Second Settlement teas. Only the hostiles’ shaman knows the exact ingredients of theirs, but Maryanne was able to confirm these were among the items she was told to gather. She has also sampled the peace tea and confirmed it seems similar to the hostiles’ daily intoxicant brew, though the hostiles’ was far more potent.
I believe, then, that the original hostiles were from the Second Settlement. They leave to pursue their own community. They brew the tea they’re accustomed to and then, well, it’s the age-old question for intoxicants, right? If a 5 percent beer gives me a buzz, what does an 8 percent beer do? An eighty-proof shot of whiskey? A hundred-proof?
I believe human nature led them to experiment, and the result was a drug that made people placid and easy to control. An invaluable bonus for the right leader. Turn your followers into drone workers, contentedly gathering berries and chopping wood all day.
Continue down that experimental path with the Second Settlement’s ritual tea, and eventually you might get something that lowers inhibitions, increases aggression, and induces a hallucinogenic state. Again, the right kind of leader—or, more accurately, the wrong kind—would see true Yukon gold there. Between the two narcotics, the leader and shaman could control their followers, making them both complacent worker bees and the aggressive hunter-warriors that terrified everyone around.
Dalton, Maryanne, and April agree this is the most likely scenario. It makes far more sense than hypothesizing that a group of people in the forest just happened to concoct a narcotic with many of the exact same ingredients as the Second Settlem
ent’s teas.
Where does that take us? Nowhere really. We can’t blame the Second Settlement and ask them to clean up “their” mess. My hypothesis only answers the question of how hostiles were created.
But now, holding a jar of the tea, I have another question.
How was this created? My hypothesis about a botanist or pharmacist or natural-drug enthusiast works, but are there other possibilities? There’s another answer, one only raised now, during our discussion on the back porch.
I look at Dalton as he comes inside. “The last time we spoke to Tomas and Nancy, they said they were going to camp by Lynx Lake when the weather got warmer.”
He nods. The couple had asked our permission, the lake being a few kilometers from Rockton.
“Do you think it’s warm enough for them to be there now?” I ask.
“It is. I’m guessing you want to take a hike?”
“Please.”
TWENTY-TWO
Lynx Lake is an hour’s walk from Rockton. It’s not the same lake where we found Sophie. There are several bodies of water within what we consider easy walking distance, and Lynx Lake has nothing to recommend it over the closer ones. Not unless you’re looking for more privacy or, well, lynx. That doesn’t mean you can expect to see the felines. The Yukon isn’t a zoo. That can be hard for southerners to understand. I’ve seen maybe a dozen lynx since I arrived, and ten of those I would have missed altogether if Dalton hadn’t pointed out a brown shape moving against a brown backdrop.
We walk to the lake and find three tents of varying sizes, along with fish racks and a food-storage system rigged up in the trees. Food left on ground level is a sure way to get an unwanted wildlife sighting, particularly of bears. You especially don’t want to attract them if you have young children, as Nancy and Tomas do.
This afternoon, the kids are up and out. Miles and Becky, ages seven and five, both have their fishing poles in the lake. They’re at the edge where the ice has receded. Tomas is out on the ice itself, fishing through a hole. Nancy sits on a log bench, working her embroidery magic on a new garment. There’s another woman with her, maybe in her early fifties. That gives me pause until I remember Nancy mentioned that her aunt wanted to come with them to help with the kids. To support Nancy and Tomas, I suspect, with the childcare being an excuse.
Nancy and Tomas are breaking away from the Second Settlement. It’s as amicable as a divorce can be, which means that while it’s friendly enough to maintain trade ties, the settlement isn’t exactly thrilled with their decision. The reason for that parting? While we think of the Second Settlement as the more liberal one, it still prohibits homosexual relationships.
At eighteen, Nancy was caught with another girl and forced to marry a man. She chose Tomas over her intended groom. He knew about the girl and decided if he was a good husband, he’d be enough for her. He’s since seen his mistake, but they have children and Nancy loves him. She wants them to be a family, and they’ll work out the rest. Part of working it out is leaving the settlement to spend the summer on their own before deciding their next move.
As we approach, we hail Nancy and her aunt, Josie. The Second Settlement practices communal living, so the “aunt” honorific is given to all women who helped raise you.
Josie is a tall woman, strikingly beautiful, her dark skin glistening with sweat under the strong sun. She’s Dalton’s height and towers over me as she rises. I clasp her hand between mine and bow my head, the proper greeting for an elder. Tyrone Cypher calls the Second Settlement a cult. I wouldn’t go that far. There’s no charismatic leader. No slavish devotion to dogma. To me, they resemble a faith-based back-to-nature commune. I obviously don’t agree with all their customs, but I will grant them the respect of a proper greeting, especially Josie, who has been Nancy’s staunchest supporter.
Dalton goes to join Tomas on the ice, pausing first by the kids to chat. When he leaves, a gesture grants Storm permission to stay with the children, and she does, lapping up their hugs and pets.
“Tomas wants to get them a dog,” Nancy says as I settle in. “I don’t suppose you’re thinking of breeding her.”
“We are, actually. Not this year, though. A litter next spring would be nice. You’re welcome to one if you’re still around.”
She smiles. “Tell the kids that, and we may need to stay.”
She sets aside her needlework and rises to make tea. While I settle on the log, I look out at Dalton and Tomas.
“Is it different now down south?” Josie asks.
When I glance over, she laughs softly. “Oh, I’m sure it’s very different, in very many ways. But you were thinking of our division of labor, weren’t you? The man out fishing while the women sew.”
I try not to look startled. “Actually, yes.”