Vaguely nodding, Harmony sat on the edge of the bed. 'Better. I'll remove the sling in a day or so.'
'Nowhere to change,” Eddinray remarked, holding his forehead in a befuddled state.
'Change?' she asked, lost. 'Into?'
Eddinray rubbed his chain mail like an apple, then plopped himself opposite Harmony on the bedside. 'Best keep my armor on then,” he muttered to himself. 'Yes — prepared for danger.'
He sat back against the headboard and froze the moment Harmony took his hand. 'You carried me a long way today, Godwin. How could I ever express my appreciation?'
His ears turned red, and an aching dryness attacked his lips and trickled to the back of his throat. 'It was nothing…my dear! Any man worth his salt would have done the same.'
His lips were briefly parched by her tender kiss, but somehow he managed to hold his composure.
'Truth of the matter is,' he said, recovering; 'I was the only fellow capable of supporting you. Daniel had succumbed emotionally and the samurai? Well, need I say more? Are we sharing a bed tonight, or shall I get acquainted with the floor?'
'The bed is fine,” she replied, shyly. 'We will have to sleep on our sides, facing one another; I cannot rest on my wings you see, and will not have them plugging your nostrils through the night.”
Eddinray smiled. This evening he would undoubtedly be the happiest man in all hell-fire.
***
I sat atop the bed, the mattress like stone and the sheets too filthy to sleep under. At the foot of the door, Kat sat with a ready katana perched across his lap.
'Don't forget to wake me,” I said, head fidgeting against a pathetic pillow. 'Change over in two hours. Did you tell Eddinray?'
Kat didn't have to remind our friends of sleep shifts or to keep them on guard; they were more than aware of the risks in a dive like this. Besides, our room was next to theirs, and anyone planning a sneak attack would first have to ascend the squeaky staircase, then past our door and Kat's ears before reaching Harmony and Eddinray. Yeah, we were safe in this saloon for the night, with the warhorse Kat, and self proclaimed chosen one next door. 'What about that large guy?' I asked, watching our lantern oil burn out. 'Deadeye they called him. You humiliated him downstairs.'
'And he considers himself lucky. Sleep Fox.'
Obeying, I attempted to settle myself by counting cracks on the ceiling like many bouncing sheep, but infuriatingly awake, I decided to scratch another itch. This was my first night alone with Kat since our horrendous time on the Macros, sharing snow caves and a frail tarpaulin tent during our search for the Weather-Maker. We communicated then — I wanted to try again now.
'Your real name?' I diligently asked. 'It can't be Kat, can it? Will you tell me?' Of course, Kat said nothing. 'Come on samurai! Aren't you interested? Don't you have curiosity and questions like the rest of us? You must do!'
'Sleep,” he muttered from his corner.
'You are allowed, you know!” I continued. “You can ask me anything you want! Whatever is on your mind! Don't you want to learn more of the man you're risking your soul protecting?'
Exasperated, I went back to counting cracks, when suddenly and without any conscious effort, my mind numbed and the mouth ran free from thought.
'My name is Daniel Franklin Fox.” 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
“Divorced. Father of Kathy.” 6. 7. 8.
“41 years old when I passed on.” 9. 10. 11.
“I killed a man…I killed one man.' 12. 13.
Finishing my count, Kat's head creaked to observe my distant dreaming. 'There are twenty five steps on the landing,' I added, 'leading to four rooms. The barman has a limp under that coat of fire, a machete down his pants and three missing buttons on his shirt. There were twenty-four glasses stacked near the register — none of them clean. There are nine stools along the counter, six tables and eighteen chairs around the bar. Oh, and there are thirteen cracks on the ceiling above us. Unlucky for some.'
'Why?' he rasped back.
'It's what I do,” I exhaled. 'I was a police detective, if you know what that means. The job is solving crime, observation, seeing the details. Could've made a good career if…' I forced myself to stop, to again close that painful door in my head.
'Detectives,' I resumed after a moment, 'rely mostly on scientific evidence and teamwork, but old fashioned observation and instinct should still be strong in all of them. Now it's just my bad habit, I could tell you for example that Harmony scratches her elbow when she's nervous, always the same spot and with the same two fingers — although not so much since she broke her arm. Eddinray bites his thumb raw when he's lying — I'm surprised he has any left to chew on. Subconscious actions are easy to spot Kat, but they are the beginnings of unravelling a person's nature.'
Kat looked intrigued by my rambling, and I was happy to share my view on his nature. 'You samurai? You Kat? You have no nerves as far as I can see, your blood runs cold. Sometimes I have seen you do things that contradict the murderer legend, but that human being doesn't hang around for too long. To be honest, you're a complete and utter mystery.'
The samurai's spirit seemed heavy against the door, and there followed a short absence of sound before his own mind ran loose from the mouth.
'My name is Kendo Katamuro.
Married.
No children.
Fifty-four years old when I passed.
I killed men…I killed many men.'
***
There was rest for some and not for others that evening. For my own pleasant night's sleep, I settled our account with the barman by giving up a quarter canteen of well water, his dreg light that he was delighted to receive. The saloon was less crowded, the storm had passed, and outside is where most lingered this morning.
Beyond the swinging doors awaited a stuffy atmosphere and strong sunlight; the grey road was beset by the mixed droves, minding their business over the thoroughfare. Before we joined them on the dust, a brisk voice called at us from the bar counter. 'Away?'
An unusual concoction leant against the bar counter. His body was lanky in denim, but at the neck grew the large head of a grunting pony, with wide nostrils and protruding teeth. It was Mr. Ed with legs, a thought I kept to myself.
'Only here for the night,” I answered, disguising a grin. 'Good-day.'
We didn't walk far before he called again, this time leaving his drink to join us at the exit. 'Didn't figure you'd stay long. Nah, I didn't figure. You don't look like the staying' sort.'
'Not the talking sort either,” said Kat.
'Just wanted to thank ye is all,” he replied, following us outside to that harsh daylight. 'Name's Mothershud, and today I am grateful. Extremely grateful!'
'Grateful?' pried Harmony. 'Whatever for?'
'For Deadeye, O' course! That cursed bastard made me what ye see! Every soul in the bar had a beef with Deadeye- nay, every soul in Breakneck! Used to have genuine human features, proper eyes and handsome too — till he struck his knifes in ma throat! Five days bed bound I woke to this face…Can still see the scars if you look close.'
Ashamed of his appearance, Mothershud lowered his long face and stammered before concluding. 'This saloon is the only place I feel content. More so now with him gone so thank ye! Gather y'all headed to the fields? Guess it's the only way ye can go.'
'Is that the way?' asked Kat, eyeing a flat land out of town. The pony confirmed with a wink, and Kat nodded him a rare thanks.
'Goodbye Mothershud,” said Harmony.
'Y'all take care in those fields!' he yelled returning to his ale. 'Dangerous, dangerous place is them!'
