"As far as I can tell, what we just saw was the latest in a long line of ill-advised choices made by Mr. Sherwood," Purdue said, consulting what Sam had thought was a notebook. Instead, it turned out to be a small device resembling a tiny tablet computer, but extremely thin and capable of being folded.
When Purdue produced it from his pocket it was the size of a matchbook, but he deftly unfolded it until it was the length of his hand. His strokes on its surface as he searched for information were more of a caress than a swipe. "Hmm. Yes. If Hunter's everyday intelligence were equal to his programming ability, he might be a dangerous man. Certainly he would be running KNCT in Ms. Ito's place. And he would surely realize that refusing to use Facebook is considerably more effective if you don't spend a great deal of time blogging about how you don't use Facebook."
Chapter Ten
A dozen small tents peppered the desert sand, their poles reaching up toward the clear blue sky. These had been designated as the delegates' sleeping areas, four or five to a tent. A little way off, they had cleared an area of scrubby vegetation to erect a larger structure, more akin to a yurt in shape than to a teepee, though still constructed of the same red cedar and bison hides as the sleeping tents. This tent, large enough to contain everyone, would be the focal point of all meetings, rituals and "connections." Sam had cringed a little when Cody had said the word "connections" with no apparent awareness of how incredibly vacuous the whole thing sounded, but he had played his part in raising the tent without complaint.
Jefferson had led the building of the connection tent. Flashing his dazzling smile at the assembled delegates, he threw himself heart and soul into motivating and guiding the group. When they needed an outside eye to instruct them in where to place a pole or how taut to pull a rope or a hide, he stepped back and called out to them in his best public-speaking voice. Whenever they would benefit from another pair of hands, or when the mood of the group threatened to sour and turn against their current leader, he would be right there working alongside them, putting his back into the heaviest of work and encouraging his family to do the same.
Based largely on her put-together appearance and her precise, regulated manners, Sam had not expected Paige to embrace the kind of work they were doing. Seeing her in action, though, he had to admit that he had misjudged her. She matched her efforts perfectly to her husband's. Her smile never wavered, and her contribution to the work was far from negligible. Even Henley seemed to be in good form. For all her teenage cynicism and the little rebellions that Sam had witnessed at close quarters, she had spent a lifetime being trained by her parents to behave well when people were watching. Sam began to see how they would function as a political family, if Jefferson pursued his ambitions. He wondered briefly whether the family's involvement with FireStorm would help or hinder them, but before his mind could wander too far down that path he was called on to help shift the central pole, and the physical exertion to which he was so unaccustomed demanded the entirety of his attention.
As soon as the tent-building was finished, there was a mass migration down to the river. It had been hot work, and most of the delegates were now sticky with sweat. Sam's hair was plastered to his head and his throat was like sandpaper. He had emptied the contents of his waterskin before work on the main tent had even begun, and now he wanted nothing more than to down mouthful after clear, cool mouthful of river water. He cupped his hands and scooped it into his mouth, over and over again, until his thirst was quenched and he was ready to go downstream and join the others who were already wading to cool off. The water was brackish and cold despite the beating sun, and Sam plunged into it gratefully.
By the time he surfaced he was a little giddy from the change in temperature and the roar of the water in his ears. He took a step toward the bank, but his foot landed on a slippery rock and he lost his balance, collapsing sideways into the water. As he fell he was vaguely aware that he had barely missed a collision with someone next to him, and he scrambled to his feet to apologize.
"Don't worry about it, Sam," Sara's melodious voice washed over him. She stood up to her hips in the water, her long, dark hair soaked and glistening in a long braid down her back. Her long, loose cotton shift clung to her golden skin. "Are you suffering in this heat? This is tame for Parashant, but I remember that you mentioned how warm you were finding Montana. I can only imagine how you're finding it here."
"It's… it's fine." As hard as he tried, Sam was struggling to maintain eye contact. "I know this must be really mild for you. I've read about how hot it gets out here. But where I come from, this is heat-wave temperature. This is when Scottish people just lie in darkened rooms with a fan pointed at them. Or we strip off and bake ourselves until we're pink, but I always favored the darkened room, myself."
"I believe you," Sara smirked, looking him up and down. "I'm sure you'll get used to it soon enough, but until you do, here's a hint — pure cotton is your best friend just now. If it's thoroughly soaked, it won't provide any insulation at all. It'll just trap all the moisture, which will keep you cool, and it'll dry slower than that blended fabric that you're wearing, buying you a few more precious minutes of cooling. If it's a loose garment, it'll work even better. Something like… mine, for instance." She smoothed the drenched cloth over her body in a gesture so unsubtle that Sam was extremely glad that he was standing in deep, cold water. "If you don't have anything with you, talk to Cody. We always bring a few spare shirts along for anyone who needs them. You'll be glad of it, especially at night."
As she strolled off downstream, Sam plunged back under the water. When he reemerged, Nina was watching him with an amused grin on her face. "Was that you getting converted?" she inquired politely.
"Something like that," Sam said. "I might yet be convinced about all this connection malarkey."
As he headed back toward the connection tent, a delicious aroma of cooking hit Sam's nose. His stomach growled urgently. He had not even noticed that he was getting hungry, not while he had been so busy attending to his other needs, but now he found himself ravenous. He joined the line of people filing into the tent and gratefully accepted a bowl of some kind of stew. He had no idea what it was. There were definitely lentils, and as he took an eager mouthful he could taste herbs that his uneducated palette was at a loss to identify. All he knew was that it was food, and it was delicious, even if it was vegetarian.
Once he had scraped the last remains from his bowl, he set it down on the reed-strewn floor where he sat cross-legged. Only then did it occur to him to wonder where the food had come from. It was being served by Cody from a large cauldron suspended over a fire pit near the center of the tent, but Sam could not imagine that so much food could have been prepared by one man, with apparently no counter space or storage for ingredients, in such a short time. It had been less than an hour since the connection tent had been finished, and at that point the fire pit had not even been constructed.
Or had it? Sam leaned over to get a better look at it. Beneath the rough hewn stones he could just make out a base of breeze blocks. As the fire began to burn a little lower he could see the soot and carbon markings on the stone, darker and more deeply ingrained than he would have expected to see on a newly constructed pit. I suppose they built it for a previous Vision Quest, he thought. Makes sense. If they always bring their groups to the same place, it would save time and material just to have this already built and covered up. I’m still not sure where they conjured up the food from, though. It tasted fresh, but what do I know? That's probably just because it was healthy. That must have been pre-prepared. There's no way Cody could have made this much so quickly.