A sense of weary well-being carried Ash along as he followed Kieran down the beach. He could barely remember what had happened after the men with the guns had grabbed him. Later, he'd think about it.

For now, he'd think about how Kieran seemed to like him better today. That was a little odd, not at all what he would have expected. He would have thought going catatonic would be the worst thing he could do. It was exactly the kind of thing Kieran had been afraid of when he'd tried to make Ash head east. He should have awakened in the clutches of the mob or the police or worse, or never woken up at all. Instead, he'd been drawn up by Kieran's heartbeat in his ear, the smell of gunsmoke and leather, and the kind of soft, sweet words he'd never imagined hearing from Kieran's lips, even in his most self-indulgent fantasies.

They still echoed in his head: those pretty blue eyes of yours... didn't I tell you I'd keep you safe? And then for all his grumpiness and bantering, Kieran had treated him gently. His reaction to Ash's sudden embrace had contained no anger, no disgust. Just a mild alarm, and perhaps a flicker of desire.

Ash felt light, floating, as if nothing were quite real. A little bit head-blind on his left side; the effect of the river? Kieran was leading him along the riverbank, picking a path through tumbled slabs of building stone and fragments of rusted oil barrel. It wasn't at all clear where they were going, except that it was upriver. Ash remembered reading that the town of Burn River was the point where the river became navigable, that upstream of the town the water was shallow and fraught with hazards. Maybe it would be cleaner there too, maybe that was why Kieran was taking him this way -- no, what was he thinking, the river was full of chaotic charge even before the factories dumped their phosphors and coal by-products into it. That was why it was called Burn River.

In fact, now that he was looking, he could see that the vegetation along the bank was a little strange. He didn't recognize most of it, so he couldn't be sure whether it was right, but there were a few plants he knew were wrong. He stepped carefully around a clump of daisies that were bowed over by the too-long petals of their flowers, avoided a cottonwood sapling with white growths on its trunk.

"How can anyone live here?" he murmured.

"Hm?" Kieran turned back to look at him. "Quit dawdling. Look -- here." He stopped to let Ash catch up, and while he waited he dug in the pockets of his coat. "Got a present for you."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. This is for you." He tugged something free of the pocket and held it out.

Ash froze. It was a gun. A fat-bodied revolver. It looked big, even in Kieran's hand. "I -- ah --"

"Take it, you baby. And put your coat on, it's about to get cold."

Glancing at the sky, Ash saw that it was later than he'd thought. The yellowing of the light had just seemed part of his mood, but it was nearly evening. Shrugging into his sheepskin jacket, he gingerly reached out and took the revolver. It was heavy, the metal warm from being in Kieran's pocket. He began to put it in his own pocket, but Kieran stopped him.

"Hang on, it's not loaded."

"I don't want it loaded."

"Tough. I want you to be able to defend yourself. This takes forty standard, same as mine, it's a pretty common caliber. Here's where you break it, see? Just pop 'em in like this -- hold it steady, idiot!"

"Kieran, the only firearm I've ever touched was a bird gun, years ago. I don't know how to use one of these."

"Neither do half the homicidal dumbshits running around out here. Pay attention. Pop it back in like that and it locks. You wanna fire it, you have to cock it first. It's single-action. That means you gotta cock it each time. Just pull it -- no, you do it." He used both his hands to wrap Ash's fingers around the grip, put Ash's thumb on the hammer. "Pull back. Yeah, it's hard."

"It's going to go off."

"Not by itself. What, you think it's an animal, it's gonna bite you? It's a machine, Ashes. Be the boss."

Wincing, ready for the noise of a shot, Ash pulled back the hammer. It hurt his thumb. When it clicked into place, he prayed he was done. Kieran wouldn't risk alerting people that they were down here, would he?

No such luck. Shifting behind Ash, he reached his long arms around and moved Ash's hand, making him aim the gun at the middle of the river. "Get your finger on that trigger, now. You need to feel what it's like, or you'll drop it when there's a fight on. Just squeeze down on it."

Breathless both from fear of the gun and from Kieran's voice in his ear, Ash tried to pull away. "Someone's going to hear it and come --"

"No they ain't. People are always shooting off their guns for the hell of it, around here. You're not getting out of this."

Ash took a deep breath. "What am I aiming at?"

"Nothing. Just the water. I just want you to feel it kick, once."

"It's going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Not if you don't tighten up your wrist. Keep it loose. Not limp, dumbass, just loose." His hands wrapped Ash's wrist, giving it a shake. "That's better. Now don't jerk the trigger. Just haul down on it real slow."

Ash felt the weight of the gun, the heat of Kieran's body at his back, his own anxiety and arousal, the chemical reek of the river, the last rays of sun on his cheek; it all melded into one thing. Frighteningly real and beautiful. I always pick the strangest times to be happy, he thought, and tightened his finger.

The gun roared, sending a shock up his arm, more like a sound than a sensation. He realized he'd closed his eyes, and opened them. He couldn't see where his shot had gone, and Kieran was letting go of him. He wanted to start over and do it again, wanted to ask Kieran to show him again, to whisper in his ear the finer points of marksmanship -- is this why people become so irrational when they get hold of guns? Or am I sick, that it turns me on? Frightened of his reaction, Ash held still and didn't try to stop Kieran from moving away.

"Still scared?" said Kieran.

"Yeah." It came out a whisper. Ash gulped and tried again. "More scared than I was before. I'm afraid I'm going to fire it again."

Kieran gave a satisfied nod. "Good. You respect it. Put it away now. It won't go off if you don't cock it. Later on I'll show you how to clean it, maybe have you shoot some targets."

"Okay."

"You still think it's gonna bite you, don't you?"

"I think it already did."

Kieran laughed, slapping Ash's shoulder. "You're an outlaw, kid. Did you forget that? We're outlaws. Now let's get the hell out of town before somebody finds us."

"This came off a dead man, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Someone you shot."

"You have a problem with that?" Kieran watched his face, as if his answer mattered.

Ash gave it some thought, for that reason. At last he said, "No." He took one last look at the gun, then set it carefully in his pocket. "It seems appropriate, somehow. I'm just wondering how long I can travel with you before I end up killing someone. Or getting shot because I won't kill someone. You saw what it did to me, just having people die near me."

"Guess we'll cross that one when we come to it."

"It was just -- they were so scared of you. I wanted to tell you that, when they had me --" He pantomimed the gun to his throat.

"Wouldn't have changed anything." Kieran set off down the beach again.

"I suppose you're right," he said, trying to match Kieran's pace. "And it's not as if I'd never felt anyone die before. I lived in Ladygate. People dying and being born all the time. I just didn't know what it was I was feeling. It's worse, knowing. There's this, this blinding fog of fear, and then it just pops, and there's nothing."

"You figure it was you being scared, or them getting mixed up with you?"

"I'm not sure I can tell the difference. Just like now, I feel full of butterflies, like something good's about to happen, and I don't know if it's me or you."

Kieran turned his head, but his smile was apparent in his voice. "That's me, I guess. Sorry 'bout that."

"Why --?"

"You know damn well. Quit trying to make me say pretty things to you."

Ash smiled to himself, and managed not to answer.

Gradually, the riverbank became less cluttered and less steep. There began to be shacks perched on the shore, sad little things made of sheet metal and scrap wood. Thin, hard-eyed Iavaians in dull-colored clothes watched them pass. Even the children looked wary. Smells of cooking mixed with smells of rot, smoke, and human waste. Ash tried not to stare. Kieran didn't even bother looking.

"It's sad," Ash whispered. "I knew, intellectually, that people lived like this. But I never understood. I wish there was something I could do."

"Pick one."

Ash frowned in puzzlement. "What?"

"Pick one. One family." Kieran swung his coat back to get at his trouser pocket.

"But -- I get it. You can't pick one."

"I'm not being a wiseass. Just point."

"Um. All right." Not certain what Kieran meant to do, Ash peered into the shantytown, intending to choose the nearest house. If you could call them houses. But the nearest one seemed deserted. Just past it, though, was one in front of which two little girls stared at him, frozen in the act of digging a hole with sticks. Their mother, enormously pregnant, stood half-hidden in the doorway of the shack, glaring. The mother looked younger than Ash was. She couldn't have been more than four and a half feet tall, and there was something wrong with her face; her cheeks and chin looked red. She was far enough away to be a blurred to his imperfect sight, so he couldn't tell what exactly was wrong, but it wasn't nice. "That one," said Ash quietly, feeling sick.

"All right. I'm going to teach you some Iavaian. Say it after me: nahia aberu inamat."

"Na -- nay --"

"Nahia."

"Nahia --"

"Nahia. Aberu. Inamat."

"Nahia aberu inamat."

"Good. Means 'well water please.' See how she's got a jug by the door? Here." He pressed a bank note into Ash's hand and gave him a little shove. "I'll be right behind you."

"Uh -- okay --" Ash's feeling of floating intensified with everything Kieran did, and he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever wake up. The pregnant girl and the two kids watched him approach. They didn't move. He smiled at the children as he passed them, but they didn't smile back. He stopped in front of the girl and cleared his throat. Now he could see that the skin of her face was flaking off in pink, shiny patches, some disease of the river. "Ah -- um. Nahisa -- I mean -- nahia aberu ina, inam --"

The girl's mouth opened and closed once. Then she burst out laughing.

Ash felt his ears getting red. He turned to see if Kieran was right behind, as he'd said he would be, but he was too far away to help. Taking his time strolling up to the shack. Smiling sheepishly, Ash tried again. "Nahia aberu inamat." He pointed at the jug. "Inamat."

This only made the girl laugh harder. Now the children were joining in, and a couple neighbors were wandering over to see what was so funny. Ash sent Kieran a pleading look. "Kieran, help! I think I said it wrong!"

"No, no." That was the pregnant girl talking. Her accent was strong, but her Eskaran was understandable. "You say right. But that --" she pointed to the jug -- "is wizgi. You see? You ask water. Point to wizgi."

"Oh." Ash chuckled a little. "Sorry. Yeah, that's funny."

"I give water, okay. You tell me, kinatta, what you want with talk Iavai'ai. You white."

He pointed at Kieran. "He's teaching me."

"Why?"

Ash shrugged. "Because he feels like it? I was just doing what he told me."

The girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but there was an amused glint in them. "So who is he, eh, get a white man do what he say?"

It was Kieran who answered, with a rapid-fire string of Iavaian that made all the gathered natives burst out laughing. Then he grinned at Ash. "You should see yourself, Ashes. You're bright red."

"That's not fair! What did you say?"

"I just said not all whites are too dumb to take good advice."

Ash turned to the girl. "Is that all he said?"

"Oh, he say so all right." She giggled. "You want water? Pay for bottle."

"Right. Here." He pushed the bank note at her.

She examined it, eyes widening. "Too much!"

"Really? How much is it?"

"Too much." She made it disappear anyway. "Rich man, eh?"

Kieran said something else in Iavaian and made them laugh again. The girl ignored Ash's queries this time, ducking into the shack to emerge with a green glass jug mostly full. She thrust it into his arms.

"Thank you, miss. Um -- Kieran?"

"Inai ou kii an'na," Kieran prompted.

"Oh ki anna," Ash repeated dutifully. He wasn't much surprised when they burst into laughter again.

Grinning broadly, the pregnant girl, babbling in her own language, gave Ash a series of short shoves until he moved away, back to Kieran's side. Kieran gave him an unreadable smile, taking him briefly by the back of the neck and giving him a little shake before leading him away again. Ash looked back once, to see that most of the shantytown neighbors were clustered round the girl who'd given him the water, but the little ones were smiling at him. One waved her muddy stick. He waggled his fingers at her.

"Here." Ash offered Kieran the jug. Kieran took it, still smiling, and drank a little, then gave it back. Ash drank as well. It was clean water, with only a slight mineral taste. "So what was all that about?"

"You did good."

"I see. You were testing me."

"Nope."

"Yes, you were. You were seeing how I'd act with them."

"Okay, I was a bit curious about that. But mostly we needed the jug. I gotta teach you more of the language -- the farther west we go, the less people are gonna speak Eskaran."

"Sure, and speaking of languages, what was all that about? What did you say to make them laugh so much?"

Kieran grinned. "Nothing."

"Oh, come on. What did you tell them?"

"Nothing."

"I want to know!"

"What I told you I said."

"And when she said I was rich?"

"I said you were just a rich man's friend."

"And what did she say?"

"She told you to get back to your husband."

"What?" Ash gaped. "She did not."

"That's what she said."

"What the hell made her think -- Kieran, what did you really say?"

"Well, we Iavaians have a lot of words for friend." He looked at Ash, and his grin turned into a laugh. "You look like a fish."

"I -- uh -- well. I'm glad I could amuse you."

"Oh, come on. It's funny."

Ash tried for a little longer to be mad, but it was no use, he just couldn't be angry. He turned away to hide his smile. "When will it be your turn to be the source of humor?"

"Never. That's your job."

There wasn't anything to say, after that, but Ash didn't mind. Had Kieran really told those people that Ash was his boyfriend? His lover? It was undignified, a shade belittling, to have it made into a joke like that, and yet -- visions of the possible future filled his head, and despite the chill of impending night his face felt far too warm. Don't count on it, he told himself. He's changed his mind before. It's not safe to assume, with him. But that was part of Kieran's -- well, charm was a very wrong word. His draw, the truth of him, a component of the thing that made him the only possible destination. All right, I'm not expecting anything. But I'm not giving up, either.

They climbed the bank in blue twilight, and found a gravel road at the top, running beside a set of railroad tracks. Kieran led the way parallel to the tracks, back toward the river, where Ash could make out a bridge. It looked like the bridge was just rails and ties over open water, with no road bed to walk on; Ash didn't look forward to crossing it in the dark. But when Kieran stepped onto the tracks, he caught Ash's arm and turned him the other way, away from the water, walking between the rails this time.

Obscuring our trail. I get it. It was a deeper layer of thinking than Ash had expected from Kieran: knowing that Watch trackers would expect them to hide their trace in rail interference, Kieran was making the trail disappear in such a way that the trackers would think they'd crossed the river. Why can't I get used to how smart he is? I keep thinking he's not quite as intelligent as I am. Is it just the way he talks? In the present circumstances, he's effectively much smarter than I. The thought made him a little dizzy, a kind of awe. God, I'm really crazy about him, aren't' I?

"Hey. Kieran."

"Yep."

"What you told those people, I mean, which of these many words for friend did you use?"

"Tiv'haan."

"What's it mean exactly?"

"Kinda like 'little brother.' Guess that woman assumed I wouldn't call a white boy that unless I was getting some."

"Oh." Disappointed, Ash was prepared to drop the subject.

Kieran wasn't. "The word you're looking for is ediya'haan. Unless we're not a couple but we have sex for ritual purposes, and then it's kaitinan. Or if one of us was pretending to be female, then it would be chikeru, but that's an insult."

"What was the first one again?"

"Ediya'haan."

"Which means, exactly?"

"Dear friend. Beloved friend." Kieran shrugged, as if to make it sound less important.

"Beloved friend."

"Yeah."

"Are we?"

"Hell, you're my only friend, Ashes. Now you're trying to make me say pretty things again. You know I'm not gonna do that."

"I'm just trying to figure out..." He trailed off, realizing he was digging a hole. Making Kieran uncomfortable and annoyed. "Sorry. I shouldn't push you."

"Yeah. Look, I know I'm jerking you around. Not doing it on purpose. I'm just not... good at this."

"At what?" Ash asked softly.

"At... at being... you know. I don't know. It's just. Whatever."

Of all the possible responses, getting incoherent was the last thing Ash had expected Kieran to do. He dared to ask, "Is it because of Shan Dyer?"

A sharp headshake. "I'm not being faithful to his memory or any maudlin shit like that, if that's what you're asking. We weren't like that. We were just good friends who screwed a lot."

"But you liked him."

"Is this going somewhere?"

"I gather you haven't had a lot of people that you've cared about, and so far they've all died horribly."

"Two for two," Kieran said with a nod. "Okay, you might have a point. You do have a point. Hope you don't think talking is gonna fix it."

"Not talking, no." He slipped his hand into Kieran's, meaning it as a gesture of support, reassurance.

Kieran jumped and jerked away as if it had been an attack. "Fucking empath. Leave my head alone."

Ash stumbled on a rotted tie and stubbed his toe. "Ow. Shit." He was glad of the excuse to swear, because he couldn't quite bring himself to direct it at Kieran. Not yet. Any minute, though. At least he's being more honest with me. "So do you still think I'm deluded for -- for liking you?"

"Yep. Just walk for a while, all right? I'm tired of talking."

"Sorry."

"And quit apologizing."

"Oh -- fuck you."

Kieran laughed. "There you go. You're getting it."

"Getting what, for god's sake?"

"Another week and I'll have you drinking corn liquor wizgi and smoking cheap cigars."

"And then I'll be bad enough for you? Is that it?"

"Shit, don't get so worked up. It was a joke."

"Go to hell."

"Working on it." He flashed Ash a smile, and all Ash's irritation melted into a little puddle of soppy longing.

I'm such a sucker. He's playing me like an automatic piano. Just push the button and watch it spin. I bet he thinks it's funny. No, it is funny. I wonder where we're sleeping tonight. I hope it's somewhere cold, so he'll have to let me hold him.

Soon, though, desire was drowned by exhaustion. The tracks seemed to go on forever. There was a pair of them, and once Kieran pulled Ash across to the other set to let a freight go by, making sure they didn't leave the railbed. Ash didn't like to think what would happen if two trains happened to come at once.

Ash was plodding in a daze of weariness when Kieran finally called a halt. The city's lights had been left behind long ago. Now the stars were blocked on either side by walls of rippled stone. Ash could barely see, but Kieran seemed to have no trouble. He took Ash's hands to help him down a slope of loose gravel, but Ash lost his footing anyway and knocked them both down. Kieran didn't say anything; just helped him up again and led him away.

Kieran seemed to know where he was going, as he hauled Ash through a twisting channel between the stone walls, sometimes so narrow that they had to flatten themselves sideways. It was so dark now that they were navigating by Talent sight alone. Ash just wanted to lean against the wall and rest. But Kieran pulled him onward. The channel widened out, and then they were climbing rounded steps of water-cut stone to a darker shadow in the cliff wall. When they reached the place, so dark Ash couldn't tell if it was a cave or just a dip, Kieran stopped him with a hand on his chest. Rooting in his pockets, Kieran snatched up something from the ground, then made a sudden sharp noise and a blinding light. Ash was so tired it took him a long moment to realize Kieran had struck a match.

Wincing against the light, Ash watched while Kieran lit a handful of dry weeds and used this makeshift torch to explore what seemed to be a shallow cave or deep overhang, not quite high enough for him to stand upright. Kieran bent to peer into a crevice, waved his burning weeds at it, stomped and made a crunching sound. Scraped something off his boot and kicked the befouled sand into the crevice. Then he dropped the torch, which had burned down to his fingers, and stepped on it.

Now doubly blinded, Ash flinched when Kieran's hand brushed his arm and crawled down to his hand. Relaxed and let himself be led. He groped in front of his face to avoid hitting his head on the overhang. When Kieran pulled him down, he folded.

Kieran's voice was something between a rumble and a whisper, and ran over his skin like steam. "Don't bother taking your boots off. We won't sleep long."

Unable to see even where Kieran's face was, Ash used the one hand he held as a reference. Explored up the arm, across the chest; found throat and jaw and mouth; holding his breath. Lips rough with dryness curved under his fingers, and a wave of weakness ran through him at the idea that his touch made Kieran smile. Then a large hand caught his and pushed it away.

"I'm tired," Kieran said. He placed Ash's hand on his side, and both his own hands went around Ash's waist under the jacket. There was some awkward shifting and accidental shin-kicking until they lay pressed together, arms inside each other's coats. "Warm enough?" Kieran whispered.

Ash tried to explain that he wasn't sleepy at all, it would be impossible to sleep with all the marvelous country of Kieran's body yet to be explored, but it came out as: "Mn." His last waking thought was that it wasn't fair that he should feel so safe, when he couldn't make Kieran feel safe in return.

Before the sun was up, they were moving again. They found a place to fill their water jug, a thin trickle sheening a rock face, but they had nothing to eat. They walked the tracks until midmorning, when Kieran chose a dry streambed and followed it to the river. Without explaining himself, he started stripping off his clothes. When he stood stark-naked, he turned to see Ash still clothed and staring, and he laughed.

"We're going across," he said.

"Oh." Ash shook himself, looking away. You've seen it all before in the bath, haven't you? You're acting like a child. "Right." Face flaming, he stripped as well, and rolled everything into a bundle. Holding their clothes atop their heads, they forged in. Ash expected the charged river to feel different, but it was just warmish slow-flowing water. He slipped a little, ducking himself, and got part of his bundle wet.

On the other side, Kieran set his bundle down, then glanced back. He flashed a grin: "What the hell." He ran back toward the river, hopped up on a bit of flat stone, and took a flying leap. For a split second he was silhouetted against the sun, wet hair splayed behind, long legs curled up and arms outstretched, like some crazy bird. Then he hit the water with a gigantic splash.

Ash had to do the same thing, of course. And of course he botched it, slipping on Kieran's wet footprints on the stone, hitting the water hands-first where it was only about a foot deep. He came up yelping, and popped a scraped finger into his mouth. Kieran, damn him, laughed. Then he turned thoughtful.

"Hey Ash. Does a river count?"

"What?"

"Remember what you said once? How when we got out we should find a lake and swim around until we get pruney?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess this counts."

Kieran gathered up his hair behind his head, stretching, twisting to look downstream. Rivulets ran glittering down his skin, spattered off him in showers of diamonds. Ash aborted his motion to get out of the shallows, and knew he was staring saucer-eyed. The rushing in his ears prevented him from hearing the words when Kieran's mouth moved, though he fully appreciated the glint of teeth behind finely shaped lips. Kieran glanced at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Um. What?"

"I said, we don't have time to make raisins of ourselves. Which means we don't have time for what you're thinking about, either."

Ash gulped and tore his eyes away. "You're cruel."

Kieran laughed. "I'm cruel? You're the one reclining with your ass half out of the water. Get in deeper, get cooled off, it'll revive you. Then we gotta go."

Ash obeyed, hoping it would also cool the embarrassment, disappointment, relief, and blind searing horniness that were warring right beneath his skin. And that bastard Kieran was just laughing and splashing like it didn't matter. Infuriating, and lovable. He was really enjoying himself. Was this the real Kieran, this whirl of energy and sparkling eyes and flashing teeth? Had the dour killer he'd first known been as much a mask as his own meekness? Probably exactly like that, he decided. He had that meekness in him, could play the mouse when threatened because it was part of him; similarly, Kieran had made a wall of the cruelty that was already in his soul, but could play in the river like an overgrown otter when he didn't need to defend.

Ash was warmed by the understanding. Kieran trusted him enough to cut loose. That was wonderful. But it didn't make it much easier to put his clothes on and leave the river behind, only a few minutes later.

Up another twisting path through the rocks, they reached a dirt road, and started walking roughly west. Northwest, Ash thought, but he wasn't sure. The terrain was so confusing. They were really in the badlands now, and nothing was flat or straight.

"Where are we going?"

"There." Kieran pointed at a space between melting castles of sandstone which looked much like every other direction.

"I don't see anything."

"You don't see that smoke?"

"Nearsighted, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. You'll see soon enough, I guess."

About an hour later, they rounded a bend to see a dozen buildings clustered around a shallow creek. The road went right through the creek, without even a bridge. Two of the buildings were large, square, and wooden, with signs over their doors. Most of the others were those little adobe beehives the natives built. At the end of the village, on higher ground, stood a small temple in very poor repair. Beside the road where it crossed the creek was a fenced area with horses in it. They looked tired. The whole town looked tired. Kieran led Ash down the road as if they weren't wanted men. He hopped the creek as lightly as if they hadn't been walking all morning.

Kieran stopped to lean on the fence, looking at the horses. Just past the corral was a shack built against the side of the stable, and on the side of the shack was a misspelled sign indicating that these horses could be rented.

"Can you ride, Ash?"

"Yes, please."

Kieran considered for a moment, then slapped the fence post. "Okay. Riding it is."

"Thank you," said Ash as they made for the shack. "I was afraid we'd have to walk the whole way. To wherever."

"Doubt you could," Kieran said, and pushed the door open. Inside was dark and surprisingly cool. The only furnishings were a small table and a chair; an old white man sat in the latter with his feet up on the former, head back, asleep. The rest of the single room was crowded with stacked barrels; one near the door was open, revealing dry oats and a scoop. A sign proclaimed it eight moons a bag.

Kieran knocked on the table. The man continued to snore. With a nasty smile, Kieran grasped the table by a leg and yanked it out from under the fellow's feet. Coming awake with a snort, the man flailed and fell off his chair.

"Ouch! Dammit!" Scowling and rubbing his backside, the man climbed to his feet. "You didn't have to do that."

"We did try knocking," Ash said sheepishly.

Kieran replaced the table with a businesslike thump. "Two horses and feed for a week."

"Right. Um." The man fumbled in his shirt pocket, producing a pair of spectacles. "Two. A week, you say?"

"Now."

"No manners, you natives." He continued to fiddle with his glasses, putting them on and adjusting their fit meticulously. Kieran reached across and plucked them off his face, startling an indignant "Hey!" from the old man.

"Ash, try these on."

Half guilty and half amused, Ash put the glasses on. He blinked a bit as things struggled into focus. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be able to see fine details. He peered out the open door, checking his long sight. "Better than without. Not as good as the ones that got broken."

"Fine. We'll take those too."

"The hell you will, you thieving --" The man stopped with a gulp as he found himself talking up the barrel of Kieran's gun.

"We'll pay for them, of course," Kieran smiled.

"Um." The old man swallowed hard. "Yes. Thank you. I appreciate that." Afraid to take his eyes off the gun, he scrambled blindly for a pencil and ledger book perched on a barrel behind him. "Um. Two horses. One week. Standard fee is one throne, plus one-five a week, five throne deposit or kind, that's per horse, and you'll need feed, two sacks per horse, that comes to, um --"

"Fifteen three and two," Ash finished for him. "And a throne for the specs."

In a moment of insane and pointless courage, the man drew himself up and said, "They cost me one-nine."

"You got ripped off," Kieran said. He put his gun away and pulled out a wad of paper money, thrusting it into Ash's hands. "Ash, pay the man. I'll pick out the animals." He shouldered through the side door into the corral.

Shaking his head and smiling, Ash peeled off banknotes. A ten-throne note, six ones, four signets. When he looked up, it was down the length of a rifle. Where had the old man had that hiding?

While his mind froze, his body went on moving. He put the counted money down on the table, and slipped the rest into his pocket. The one that had the revolver in it. He saw a speck of rust on the end of the rifle barrel, saw his own left hand coming up to catch the rifle's end and thrust it upwards. He thumped it against the low ceiling of the shack, locking his arm straight, while his right hand seemed to remember how to cock the pistol without his intervention. He stopped short of aiming it at the old man.

"I believe my change is eight moons," he said, and the calm in his own voice astonished him.

"You're those escapees," the old man said. "The ones the Watch was asking about."

"We've done you no harm. Let's not start, okay? Let go of the rifle. Let go. Thank you." Ash slung the rifle over his shoulder on its grimy strap.

"You're not bringing my horses back, I'll bet."

"Probably not. I think you should get that feed ready." Ash looked at his pistol and sighed. He took his finger off the trigger and eased the hammer up. "Hell, I'm not going to shoot you. But my friend gets impatient." When the man still hesitated, Ash added, "He kills people. In batches, to save time."

Nodding so his jowls shook, the old man snatched a stack of bags off a shelf.

When Kieran came back in, he looked from the sacks of feed on the table to the cowering proprietor to the rifle that had appeared across Ash's back. "What happened?"

With a wry smile, Ash unslung the rifle. "This kind gentleman gave us a present."

Kieran took it, examined it, tossed it at the old man's feet. "Rusted out piece of shit's more likely to blow up in your hands than shoot straight. We'll get you a better one in Canyon." He pointed at the old man. "We were never here, understand?"

The man nodded, looking down at his rifle as if it were a poisonous snake.

Outside, two horses were saddled and waiting. There was a dark-gray gelding who danced and nodded in excitement, and a bay mare who regarded the gray's antics with cool scorn.

"You get the bay," Kieran said.

"Why am I not surprised?" Ash patted the mare's neck, let her whuffle his hair, getting to know him. "I'm going to have the last laugh, you know. Look at this lady's big feet. Look at her big fat butt. We hit a patch of soft ground and she'll leave your jumpy gray way behind."

Kieran smiled. "Could be."

"The old man said the Watch had been 'asking about' us, by the way. Which doesn't sound like some printed notice. They were here."

"Already? That's not so good." Taking the gray's bridle, Kieran set off toward one of the two large buildings, the one with a sign that read 'Hengist's Dry Goods.' "You hungry?"

"Yeah, but shouldn't we get out of town? That old man --"

"Won't do anything. I know him. Course, he doesn't remember me 'cause he's a racist dipshit and we all look alike to him, but I pulled that once on him already. Pay for a week, they can't report the horses stolen until the week's up. By which time you're in West Mauraine for all he knows."

"But he knew who we are. He said 'You're those escapees.' What if he --"

"Suddenly decides to risk his life to do his civic duty? He'll wait until we're gone."

"Immediately after we're gone. So why pay for the horses?"

"I didn't know the Watch was here," Kieran said patiently. "You want to go take the money back?" He threw the gray's reins over the rail in front of the store, looping them in a one-handed half-knot as if he'd done it a thousand times. Which he probably had. Ash was a little slower about tying up his own horse; he'd never owned one, and it had been a couple years since he'd ridden.

Kieran waited for him, with no sign of impatience. It's like he doesn't want to risk letting me out of his sight. Does he even know he's doing it? Ash hurried to join him, not wanting to test this new attitude too far.

A plump middle-aged woman behind the counter glared at them suspiciously as they came in. Her suspicion only deepened when Ash handed Kieran what was left of the money. She leaned back when Kieran came and put his hands flat on the counter.

"Hafta wait outside," she belched out.

Kieran tilted his head. "What was that?"

The woman found a bit more space behind her, and occupied it. She pointed at Kieran and spoke with exaggerated slowness. "You. Hafta wait. Outside. No darkie, see? No wizgi."

Ash darted forward just in time to catch Kieran's hand before he could draw his weapon. "Let me talk to her, okay? Please?"

"Like hell I'm gonna let some pea-brained sow push me around. What happened to the old lady used to run this place? How do you expect to make any money around here if --"

"You ain't nothing but trouble, you people. Now git outta my store."

"Kieran, please. Please. Just take a step back, okay?"

Kieran turned his glare on Ash; if he'd been giving the shopkeeper that look this whole time, Ash was surprised she was still standing. His green eyes were like glowing pools of poison. But Ash stared him down, and after a long breath, he relaxed into a bitter smile. "Sure. Since you asked so nicely." He put his hands up in surrender and stepped back.

Ash turned to the shopkeeper. "Ma'am, you've offended us both by talking to my friend that way. We'd really like an apology from you."

"Like hell. You can both get outta my store, you and your sand-rat pal."

"I see." Ash shrugged and put his hand in his pocket. I can't believe I'm doing this. He drew his gun and aimed it at the woman's face, deliberately cocked it. "Open your till, please."

Behind him, he heard Kieran give a small, surprised laugh. "Oh, Ashes."

"Well, she wouldn't apologize. The till, ma'am."

The woman stared at him a moment longer. Then, with shaking fingers, she got a key from her pocket and unlocked the drawer. She stood back, hands up by her ears.

"Very good," Ash said soothingly. "Thank you. Now I'd like you to pack us some picnic lunches. How about, what, ten pounds of flour? Couple pounds of coffee, couple pounds of sugar -- what else, Kieran?"

With a smile in his voice, Kieran rattled off a long list as if reading it from a page. While the woman got what Kieran asked for, including a pair of prospector's knapsacks and some saddlebags to load it all in, Ash moved around behind the counter and cleaned out the till. There wasn't much in it, maybe twenty thrones in paper and coin. All the time, the thought kept going through his head: I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this.

"Thank you so much," Kieran drawled as he slung a pack over each shoulder. "You've been a great help to us, ma'am."

"And so polite and friendly," Ash added. "We'll be sure to visit again, next time we're in town."

Still with her hands raised, the woman spat. "The Watch'll get you. They know where you are."

"Oh? And do you know where they are?" Ash smiled sweetly.

Too quickly: "No, no."

"Please don't lie to us, ma'am. It makes us sad."

"I -- I ain't --"

Ash leveled the revolver, wondering if he was about to pull the trigger. The heel of his hand was already anticipating the kick. Lying to an empath; she was too stupid to live.

"They're next door!" the woman blurted, eyes going round. "They're at Bee's, asleep! They came in this morning, asked around, then got rooms! I have three children, please don't, please don't kill me." Her fear so intense it was like a kind of amazement, around her in a cloud, blinding her.

Kieran chuckled. "Don't kill the lady, Ash. Don't want to deprive those poor kiddies of the chance to grow up bigoted and rude, right?"

"It would sure be a shame." Grinning, Ash saluted her with his gun and backed out of the store.

Outside, he put the gun away and took one of the packs from Kieran, tried to hide the way his hands shook as he untied his horse. Kieran was already in the saddle by the time he got the loop undone. The Iavaian was staring up the street at the building marked 'Bee's Tavern -- Rooms to Let.'

"I'm tempted to go see if they're really in there."

"For god's sake, Kieran, can we get out of here?"

"Lost your nerve?"

"I'm about to lose my lunch." Ash was thankful for the placid temper of the mare, because his pack nearly overbalanced him as he mounted. "I just robbed someone. At gunpoint!"

"And it was beautiful." Kieran grinned. He bent over the gray's neck and kicked its flanks hard. "Yah!"

"Wait! Oh, hell." Ash tried to follow, but the mare wouldn't do better than trot. He left the nameless village in a cloud of Kieran's dust.

All the way out of town, he kept feeling eyes on his back. Each time he turned, though, the road was empty. The feeling persisted even after he was out of sight of the village. At the top of a rising loop where the eroded ground opened out into a high plain, he found Kieran waiting for him, still looking delighted. Only then did the sensation of being watched go away.

"Please stop looking so happy," Ash said as they began riding side by side at a calmer pace.

"What, you don't want me to be happy?"

"Be happy, yes, but --"

"But don't look happy? Maybe I'm prettier when I sulk?" Kieran pulled a long face, sticking out his lip and batting his eyes comically.

Shaking his head, trying to clear it, Ash rubbed his dust-stung eyes. "Be serious. I didn't mean -- I like to see you smile, Kieran, you have the most beautiful smile in the world, but --"

"Don't get sappy on me."

"-- but that's the problem, don't you see? It makes me proud of what I did, and that's not something I want to be proud of."

Kieran raised an eyebrow at him, and said nothing for a while. The silence stretched long enough that Ash was startled when Kieran reached out and flicked his sleeve. "Tell you what, Ashes. You go ahead and feel bad for what you did. But be proud of how well you did it. That was one of the sweetest robberies I've ever been in. Just calm and clear, you told the bitch what to do and gave her room to do it, enough threat to get the job done and not enough that she freaked out and did something desperate. And you have to admit she deserved it."

"Kieran --"

"Go on. Admit it."

Ash found a smile on his face, wiped it off, felt it come back. "Okay. She deserved it."

"How much did you get?"

"Chump change. About twenty thrones."

"Hang onto it. Just in case we get separated."

The bay sidled and snorted as Ash tensed in alarm. "Separated? You're planning something that could split us up? Kieran --"

"No. I said I wouldn't ditch you." Annoyed. "I'm just covering all the angles. Let's pick it up now -- wouldn't be surprised if those Watchmen are half an hour behind us." Kieran sighed at the way Ash twisted in the saddle to look behind. "On tired horses. And I took the only decent ones at the livery. Plus they'll be lazy, 'cause they can track us."

"Oh god. They can. Horses can't walk on the rails, Kieran, they'll lame themselves."

"I know. It's covered. Trust me. You trust me?"

"Yes."

"Shit, I was afraid you'd say that." Kieran grinned, and nudged his mount to a faster walk.