When Joey woke up the next morning, he felt a moment of jarring confusion. There was no Johnny. That had just been a dream. Or something.

Then he remembered all the crazy stuff Emerald had said yesterday and wondered. Could he really have gone Travelling, or been recalling memories of previous Travels?

And why him? Hadn’t he/they been Emerald in the previous dreams?

He shook his head in confusion, but thinking about it didn’t seem to help. Mechanically he dressed for his flintlock lessons. Being dead wouldn’t help either.

When he got to the weapons shop he had his next surprise of the day. The store was surrounded by crime scene tape, and policemen swarmed in and out. He really didn’t want to talk to one – any identification he might be carrying would have belonged to Emerald’s previous host.

He managed to set his body language to innocent bystander gawping at the murder scene, to match several other pedestrians who had stopped to watch. He still felt conspicuous in his borrowed and ill fitting clothing. Damn. He could have gone shopping. Why hadn’t he?

Trying to think and feel like an uninvolved rubbernecker, he ambled casually over to another observer. He was slightly overweight, about the same height and coloration as Joey but with a much softer body. No muscle.

Joey asked casually, “So what happened here?”

The other man shrugged. “The police won’t talk to anyone or let anyone in, but I heard one talking on his radio. The owner got shot with some kind of antique gun.”

Joey didn’t want to attract attention, but he had to know. “I was reading about them somewhere. Was it a Mauser? A flintlock?”

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Sounded suitably ignorant when you put it that way.

Except to Mr. Softy. “Hey, sounds like you know guns. I think you got it on the second try. Some kind of flintlock.”

Joey shook his head. “Cities are so violent nowadays. It’s a shame.”

He walked off before the other man could reply. He didn’t have any proof, but he was pretty sure he knew who the murderer was. He wondered if there was any way he could get that information to the police despite his identity problems and the secrets he had to hide. Then he thought about local corruption, and wondered if it would matter.

When he got back to the mansion, Mario was waiting for him. “Have you been practicing your shooting lately?”

He felt pretty sure Mario knew the answer. Joey said, “Not today. A nice gentleman had been giving me some lessons. Funny thing. Somebody shot him with an antique weapon. A flintlock. I wonder who would have done that. He was such a nice guy. A little mischievous, but not a mean bone in his body.”

The other man replied, “I’m not saying he wasn’t a nice guy, but he had a little problem. He didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

Joey raised his eyebrows, as if surprised. “Are you sure you know who I’m talking about? Maybe we’re not talking about the same guy.”

Mario scowled. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to definitely confirm his involvement. “Listen wiseass, you going to stall? Say you need another teacher? Because I think we should set a date to take care of our business, and I think it should be soon. I really do.”

He asked inside his head, “What do you think? I’m not sure we’re going to learn much more, and if we find someone else they might just become another corpse. Want to set a date?”

Emerald replied readily, “Ask him how he feels about tomorrow at noon. Do me a favor though, let me distribute all our points if we level up after we kill him.”

Joey grinned to hear his elder’s confidence. Not if they killed him, but after they killed him. On the other hand, there was no sense worrying about what they would do if they lost. They would be dead.

Mario asked, “What the hell you smiling at? You happy to be dying?”

It sounded as if he had unsettled Mario. Good.

“Oh, just talking to my elder.”

“Let me tell you something. Your elder is weak.”

Joey smiled politely. “Then you’ll be happy to fight us tomorrow at noon I’m sure.”