A few Imperial days after the 2127 Walak Riots.

Thurfrit settled into the chair in the conference room, and leaned back.

He smiled as he surveilled it; the furnishings were modern and well-crafted, leather and metal imported from Avalon. The table was Tribe-built; it had been constructed here to replace the one that had stood in this room back in Drugar’s day, but the craftsmanship was intricate and beautiful; it had been built by the Tinkers not just for function, but for beauty. They had time now to do so; they had time to make it perfect.

It seemed impossible that in this room, 25 years before, Quendra had caught Kumn’s attempted punch on the backswing, and challenged her for Elder Huntress. They’d been discussing…what was it? It blurred together. Maybe Lyroo Prenn? No…no, Kumn had insulted her about the arrow…that’s right, it had been the grave threat posed by Gae Neutha.

Thurfrit chuckled in the empty room. The threat posed by Gae Neutha. Was there another Titan less threatening? Hells, his wife was more threatening to the tribe than Gae, though only because Zhay had always been a bit more careless. Not that he was complaining – her carelessness and adventurousness had brought them together….

“Well, Elder Chronicler. Getting here early, I see.”

“Venerated Nela,” Thurfrit said, rising. Nela the Learned walked into the room leaning heavily on a walker that had been printed for her by Eyazon. She was very old, and looked it. She and he were the only two left who had been alive and part of the Tribe during the rescue of Luke of Earth, and the Second Great Disaster, and the uniting of the Tribe and their friends, the Guardians. Well – yes, three full members of the Tribe and two honorary ones remembered, true, but none of them had belonged to the Tribe then, and all but Yamanu were Titans.

“It is good to see you, Elder Chronicler,” Nela said, dropping herself into the chair that Thurfrit pulled out for her. “The Great Tree seems emptier than usual when you are away.”

“It is strange that our Tribe can be so large, and the Tree so empty,” Thurfrit said.

“There are days,” Nela said, “when I miss the crooked floor of my tiny apartment. Our houses are lovely…but we lose something, not living together.”

“That we do,” Thurfrit said, not adding the obvious truth – that he had lost that many years ago.

He didn’t regret it. Not for a moment. His wife and children were the most important thing in the universe to him. His work with the Foundation could not be more important. But still…the moment he had begun his life-extension treatment, he had forever alienated himself from his people. He was still technically Elder Chronicler, but that was because Mal the Elder Record-Keeper now did a different job. Mal kept track of births and deaths, and his office recorded the minutes of meetings and such, but the Tribe was now too big for one person to write out its history. Their records were being kept by everyone, all the time.

“It’s an old people’s reunion!” a chipper voice called.

“Wise Aisell,” Thurfrit said, rising again. The former leader waved him down.

“You were friends with my grandma, you don’t have to rise for me,” she said.

Thurfrit smiled; Aisell resembled her grandmother Quendra, but she had always been more like her grandfather, Luke.

Soon enough, the remaining elders filed in, along with Leader Halbir, and they gathered around the table to hear the presentation from a fortyish-year-old man, dressed in a crisply-pressed Tannith Ley suit with an Avalonian cotton dress shirt underneath and auroch-leather shoes. The ensemble was completed by an understated blue silk tie – an actual silk tie, imported from Earth.

“Elder Businessman Othello, welcome,” Halbir said. “I understand you have a proposal to place before the tribe.”

“I do, Leader Rockfist,” Othello Zonela said, rising and clicking his pad. The holodisplay he’d brought in powered up immediately, displaying an overview of the Tribe’s land; at the same time, the pads in front of Othello’s fellow elders winked to life.

“As you all know, Tribe Maris Farms continues to be the leading seller of Royal Berries in the Empire. We currently hold forty-five percent of market share, and while the other producers’ profit is minimal, our margins are off the charts. This is true even factoring in labor at prevailing Korafian minimum wage, which for accounting purposes we have done since 2113. Our twenty-eight bushes and the five our Avalonian subsidiary manage are driving the market, and our ability to undercut other producers has, ironically, helped to keep prices high, as we’ve driven out a number of competitors. Now,” he said, clicking the pad, “that is not to say there are not issues on the horizon. Our trade secret is out; no doubt others will want to use humans to harvest Royal Berries. There will be a learning curve, though. We have been harvesting Royal Berries for 25 years, and we….”

“Forty.”

“I’m sorry?”

Thurfrit smiled gently. “The Tribe has been harvesting glowberries for forty years. We were doing it before Tribe Maris started, you know.”

“Right, right, well, anyhow,” Othello said, ignoring the interruption, “we have been harvesting Royal Berries as a company for 25 years, and we have expertise that others do not. That gives us a window of opportunity to capitalize on our position. We need to expand our operation, which is why I have proposed we make an offer on the adjacent farm.”

“The…the Prenn Ranch?” Nela asked.

“Yes, the Prenn Ranch. Lyroo Prenn has placed it up for sale, which makes sense, as their most profitable operation there has ceased. It….”

“Elder Othello, your job is running the company, and you have done well,” Halbir said. “But I would ask that you not downplay what the Prenn Ranch was.”

“Of course not, Leader. It was a human breeding facility; we all know that. Hells, most of us are descended from people who escaped. Not hiding it at all, just not the point of this – I mean, we all agree, buying it would be a fun little moral victory, but it’s foolish if we can’t make it pay. But we definitely can. Our distilling operation alone could handle all of our production of berries….”

Thurfrit’s mind wandered as Othello began to discuss the market for schnapps and whisky. He was too amazed that they were even considering this. Buying Lert Prenn’s Ranch – Great Spirit, how amazing.

No, he corrected himself. It was bigger than that by far. They weren’t talking about buying Lert Prenn’s Ranch.

They were talking about buying the land of The Prenn.

* * *

“We’re gonna get in trouble, Quen.”

“Yeah, if you can’t be quiet we will. Shh!”

Thurfrit, son of Rey the Tinker and Aldra the Gatherer, shook his head. He knew full well that they were going to get in big trouble for this. This area was forbidden, and for good reason. Just over that rise ahead was the land of…the land of the Prenn. Where it was said that humans were bred by giant monsters like the Guardians of the Land, to be sold as toys or food. Some of the stories Thurfrit had heard from other kids were quite lurid in their details. On Earth, people told stories of monsters or the bogeyman.

The Tribe told stories about Prenn.

But while Thurfrit was scared, he was also exhilarated. When he’d mused during gathering training that he wondered what lay over the ridge, he was hoping Quendra would take the lead and suggest they go look. Thurfrit was adventurous in theory, but he had not yet learned to take the next step, and venture forth of his own accord.

He would, the elder Thurfrit thought, as he looked back on his youthful folly. And thank the Great Spirit.

“Do you think we’ll see dead people?” Disa, son of Drugar and Roli asked.

“I don’t know,” Thurfrit said. “Grandma Freyja says it wasn’t like that. But Jonia said….”

“Seriously, would you two shut up?” Quendra hissed. “I would have been better off bringing pipes to bang on.”

They finally reached the crest of the hill. It was, in point of fact, a small berm, which ran along the border between the Prenn and Maris farms. It was a decent-sized hill for a human, though, and Thurfrit was just slightly winded as he stepped foot to the top of the berm, and across the border to the most dangerous place in the universe.

It didn’t look dangerous. It looked disappointingly like the farm of the Guardians. The buildings were larger, he thought, but for the most part, it looked like the land they lived on. He wondered at that. He would have thought the horror of this place would render it in pale and sickly hues, but by the setting sun, it just looked…normal.

“What in the name of the Great Spirit are you idiots doing?!”

Thurfrit whirled, and swallowed hard.

“Dad!” Disa choked.

“Defender Drugar! I…that is to say….”

“We were looking at the Prenn lands,” Quendra said, matter-of-factly. “We wanted to see what they looked like.”

“Well. Now you’ve seen what they look like. And you will be coming with me back to the Great Tree, so that your parents can deal with you appropriately,” Drugar said, grabbing Disa by the scruff of the neck and guiding him down the hill.

Thurfrit followed along. Quendra probably would have considered running, but frankly, Drugar had her dead to rights, and there was nowhere to run to. And besides…how did he manage to sneak up on them like that? She knew she was in trouble, but when it was over…she kind of hoped she could learn.

The long, silent walk back to the Great Tree was, like all long, silent walks back to get yelled at by your parents, a horrible one. Thurfrit couldn’t help thinking that he wished he’d seen something interesting enough to be worth the trouble.

Drugar checked off his watch with the Saul the Elder Defender, then brought them up the elevator to the high entrance, and paused a moment as they headed down the stairs. “We will go to my apartment,” Drugar said. “I will bring your parents back to get you. Do not even think,” he rumbled, “that trying to avoid punishment will be better for you. I believe that we as parents can handle this. I would not want to involve Mera.”

At that, Thurfrit’s heart sank. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. They might have gone to Mera the Leader? They were in trouble for sure.

Drugar led them to the apartment, and opened the door. “Disa,” a voice called, “about time you got…Drugar! What are you doing back?”

“Roli, our wonderful son and his two friends went looking at the Prenn Ranch. I caught them on its border.”

Looking back on it, Thurfrit thought that Roli’s reaction was not really as bad as he remembered. As a child, he’d thought she was furious, but as an adult…well, he knew how he’d acted when Joli was 15, and Zhay had caught her making out with a boy from school. He wasn’t happy…but he had known it was bound to happen, and while he and Aezhay had presented a united front on their daughter not being quite ready for all that, they had shared just a quick look beforehand, in silent parental language – Kids, man. What are you going to do?

But Roli and Drugar had done what parents do after that – while Drugar went to get their parents, she laid into the three of them. Most of it had been aimed at her son, but she’d spared no concern on Quendra or him.

“That place is dangerous. Would you want to be snatched up? Sold as a pet? Would you want to have the Tribe found, and sold? Or worse? You’re almost two. You should be more sensible!”

Of the three of them, only Quendra attempted any pushback, and only until Hisia showed up to pick up her daughter. Shortly thereafter, Aldra, Thurfrit’s mom, had arrived, and had berated him all the way back to their apartment. His father would get a chance later; he was working on the pipes at the moment. But Aldra had always been the tougher one, and Thurfrit knew that his father, Rey, would probably consider the matter closed after Aldra was through.

“Dear me,” a woman said, entering the apartment. “It sounds like my grandson is in trouble.”

“Oh, he most certainly is,” Aldra said. “He went to look at the…the…the Prenn’s land.”

“Did he now? By himself?” Fraya asked, shaking her head in mock indignation.

“Mother Fraya, it’s no laughing matter.”

“I know that quite a bit better than you, Aldra.”

Thurfrit’s mom paused halfway into a lecture, and said, “I suppose you do. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s not a smart thing to do, Thurry. Your mother is angry because she’s scared. She knows how dangerous that was in a way you cannot. And I know how dangerous it is in a way that she cannot. Believe me when I say that you do not want to find yourself on that land.”

“You could be killed!” Aldra said.

“Worse,” Freya said. “You could be made into a pet, like I was.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Thurfrit actually asked a question.

“What was being a pet like?”

Fraya smiled, and sat down next to him. “There were parts of it that were fine. You know, the Guardians were my owners. And they were not cruel owners. Oh, Aezhay – ‘Sprouting Tree’ – she was the one who took care of me, and she was forgetful, but then, she was about as old as you are now, at least the way Titans age, and if you had a tiny person in your care, you’d be forgetful too. But she was kind enough. All of them were.”

“They are murderers,” Aldra said.

“They are people. At least the Guardians are. But I can understand your worry,” Fraya said. “They are large, and they can wield so much power – and while the Guardians are not cruel, there are definitely Titans who are….”

She sounded very far away as she said that. Thurfrit wished she had lived longer, wished he had been able to ask her what had happened. Then again, knowing what he now knew about the way the world worked…he was probably happier not knowing.

“But even with the Guardians…I was not able to do what I wanted. I could not have children. I could not go where I wanted to go. I could not work! And I know, that sounds silly, but…when you’re a pet, you just sit around all day, and try to make your owners happy. When I had the chance to leave…it was frightening. But I am glad I took it. Believe me, you never want to be in that position, Thurfrit. You are a smart boy, a very smart boy. You would hate being locked up in a box all day. Even if your owner was nice.”

He had broken down, then, and apologized to his mother and grandmother through his sobs. He had done many things since then. Great Spirit, he had married the owner of his grandmother – something both he and Aezhay found alternately hilarious and disquieting. But in all his travels, in all the things he’d done, all the places he’d been…he had never been on Prenn land since that day.

* * *

“…and so this would give us room to grow, without having to expand our footprint on the Maris land.”

“It’s our land. And their land,” Nela said. “Together. They wouldn’t mind. They never have.”

“No, of course not. However…the Maris family has been very kind, but there’s no getting around the fact that this could change in a generation or two. Which is why I’m recommending we create a separate holding company with Tribe money to make the purchase.”

There was an uncomfortable shift at the table. Thurfrit finally broke the silence.

“I can’t speak for my nieces and nephews, but I expect my children would prefer that I don’t disinherit them,” Thurfrit said, dryly. “And if their mother has anything to say about it….”

“This isn’t about the Marises turning on us. Not at all. But Grandmother Nela, Venerated Thurfrit, you both remember further back than any of us. Isn’t it best if we don’t have to depend on the Titans?”

“But we don’t, Othello,” Halbir said, calmly. “We have full control of our operations. We could legally evict the Marises – not that any of us ever would,” the leader added, with a smile in Thurfrit’s direction. “They gave us controlling share in Tribe Maris Farms, and all of us are legally citizens now.”

“And if that were to change? Venerated Thurfrit, you yourself said the other day that the Floor Leader’s opposition to emancipation has continued after passage of the Zeramblin Act. What if we wake up one day and we are back to where we were? Shouldn’t we be prepared?”

“We are getting off on a tangent, I do believe,” Ithun Zotenya said. “If we buy this land, we buy it with the Maris family as our partners. I understand your logic, Othello,” the former leader said, holding up a hand to forestall his riposte, “but the Marises joined with us as equals when they did not have to. Elder Chronicler, you were a part of the discussion; after what they did to save this tribe, I feel it’s safe to say that we may have accepted a less equitable deal?”

“Drugar told the council privately, before the meeting with Lezah, Hair Like Fire, that so long as we were allowed to live as we had, we would work with the Guardians. We pushed them when we got down to numbers, but there was never a question that we would accept their initial offer; they could not have done better than to take us as equal partners.”

“You stand to benefit….” Othello said, but Thurfrit cut through him.

“My wife gave up her share in Tribe Maris after the Zeramblin Act passed – or had you forgotten that? I have the precise same share of the operation that you do, Elder Businessman. Not a credit more or less. More than that, the Tribe is wealthy beyond imagining. We all know this. I am not opposed to making changes to help our business grow. But even if I had not married Aezhay…I am old enough to remember Aisell risking arrest to save us. I am old enough to remember Lezah treating us all as equals, long before you were born, long before there was any hope that the wider Empire would see us that way. We will not work around the Marises. Not so long as I’m alive.”

“Nor I,” Nela said, “and I may be old, but I’m in no hurry to join with the Great Spirit, so don’t get your hopes up, Thello.”

“It was a business proposal,” Othello said, coolly. “Not a personal attack.”

“Of course,” Halbir said. “We understand that. And while we are agreed – this is for all of us, including our Titan partners, to do together – I believe we all see the value in purchasing the Prenn land.”

“Good, excellent,” Othello said. “Now, with that out of the way, the next step will be to construct dormitories on the new land.”

“Why dormitories?” Thurfrit asked.

“Well, we’re going to need an influx of labor. And that’s a good thing – there are lots of humans looking for work, you know.”

“So this is temporary until we can build Tribe housing?”

“No, no, no,” Othello said. “These people won’t be members of the Tribe.”

And that brought discussion to a screeching halt.