That was fair. Candles were sometimes useful. He would have to see about the soap. The Others had built places where they made the soap that they preferred to use when they were in human form. It wasn’t stinky with added smells and it didn’t foul the land. He would have to ask Jesse Walker if she carried that soap in her store. But if Abigail Burch could make an acceptable soap, they wouldn’t have to buy it from another part of Thaisia.

“We can pick up some fat on our way back from the train,” Joe said.

Tobias closed the truck. “Speaking of the train, we’d better get going. We need to stop for gas before we head out.”

“Hey, Tobias!”

Tobias nodded at the man striding toward them from the direction of the general store. “Tom.”

Tom Garcia wagged a thumb toward the store. “Jesse said you should stop at the store on your way out. She has a basket of food and drinks for the two of you to take with you.”

“Appreciate that. We need to stop there anyway to pick up a couple of big containers that will hold tallow for Abigail.”

Tom nodded at Joe and went inside the butcher shop, where every available adult human had been helping Floyd handle the glut of bison meat.

“Anything you need to do before we go?” Tobias asked.

“No.” The rest of the terra indigene already knew he was going to the train station with Tobias, and plenty of Hawks, Eagles, and Ravens would be watching them from the sky.

They picked up the food and drinks from Jesse, filled the gas tank on the way out of town, and started the two-hour drive to Bennett.

•••

“You sure you’re not looking for tarot cards?”

Jesse hung on to patience. Shelley had found three Intuit companies that, among other things, printed tarot cards and fortune-telling cards, which, she’d been told, weren’t quite the same thing. This was the third company. The other two either didn’t know what she was talking about or weren’t willing to admit anything to anyone—which made her wonder how they were staying in business. But she had a feeling that trust had become a commodity more precious than gold.

“I’m sure,” she said to the woman on the phone. “I remember seeing decks of cards that were used by some women to get a sense of something coming, but that was four decades ago, and I’m trying to find out if cards like that are still being made.”

Silence. Then, “What kind of women?”

“Blood prophets. I’m looking into this for one of the cassandra sangue.” Not quite true, but close enough.

“You have one of those girls living in your community?”