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it!”
    The good humor spread back to Barley, who smiled sheepishly. Gertrude offered her meaningless little smirk, and Boudica was grinning anyway. Lizards don’t exactly have lips, but Cinnabar seemed vaguely happy all the same. Even the Captain smiled.
    Sort of. It was close. It counted for the Captain.

Chapter 14: Later . . .
    “What happened to the Captain’s eye?” Bonsoir asked Barley while getting steadily drunk in the corner.
    “That day when—”
    “What day?”
    “That day.”
    “Oh.
That
day.”
    “Yeah. Anyway. Remember Alfalfa the hare? Said pistols bored him, liked to do his work with dynamite?”
    “Sure. He still owes me money.”
    “I wouldn’t expect to collect. Mephetic turned him, I dunno how. Once the trouble started he lit one of those boom sticks. Captain put him down, but . . .” Barley shrugged his swelled shoulders. “Not fast enough. The explosion took out the Captain’s eye, and it did for that half of Reconquista that isn’t there anymore.”
    “I always liked that half.”
    “I imagine Reconquista was partial to it as well.”

Chapter 15: And Later . . .
    “I don’t remember her being so crazy,” Bonsoir began. Bonsoir often began things wiser members of the company preferred to leave sleeping.
    “She was always off,” Barley said. Slurred, really.
    “She was always off, but she was not always like this.”
    “You can’t trust a bird.”
    “You can’t trust anyone.”
    “She took the betrayal hard.”
    “I didn’t like it any more than she did,” Bonsoir responded. “But I didn’t let it drive me mad either.”
    “You didn’t lose your arm,” Barley growled.
    “It’s not the wound,” Gertrude chimed in. “It’s the one who made it.”
    “You mean the Quaker?” This from Bonsoir.
    “Can you remember how they used to be together? They refused to be separated. Not in camp or on a job, not sleeping or waking. When Elf toileted, he used to coil outside.”
    “I remember.”
    “One thing to be betrayed by a friend. Another entirely to be betrayed by a lover.”
    “Wasn’t that either,” Cinnabar piped in. His chair was tilted backward, his legs up on the table. “It’s the ground.”
    Bonsoir looked confused. “The ground?”
    “She wasn’t meant for it. She’s a flyer, and she’s spent the last five years hobbling.” The brim of Cinnabar’s hat still covered his eyes. “That would drive anything crazy.”

Chapter 16: And Yet Later . . .
    The Captain had just finished marking his territory when a shadow hooted greeting. He buttoned unstained trousers and turned to face her. “Well?”
    “He will be there?”
    “He’ll be there.”
    “You’re certain?” Elf’s eyes were bright, and between them and the moon there seemed no distinction in circumference. “You’re certain?”
    The Captain was not honest, exactly, as many a creature had learned to its despair. But the Captain had a word, and once that word was given one did not question it, not even if one was Elf.
    “Excuse me,” she said, turning away from his scowl. “It’s just that I’ve so longed to see him.” Her malformed wing shuddered against her torso. “I’ve just longed to see him so.”
    When the Captain walked back into the bar, the rest of them assumed he was only unsteady with drink.

Chapter 17: And Later Still . . .
    The rows of empty jugs had multiplied with the speed of caged rabbits. They piled onto the table and flowed over onto the ground. They were stacked high in the corner. They rolled out the back door.
    “Down with the false lord!” Reconquista shrieked suddenly. “Long live the Elder! Long live the true Lord of the Manor!”
    Bonsoir borrowed a pistol from Cinnabar and fired into the air. Barley beat his chest as if to break a rib. Boudica hooted once then fell silent. Drunk as they were, they’d have cheered for the moon to make war on the stars, and offered odds on the result.

Chapter 18: So Late as to Be Early . . .
    Morning had begun its