Eliott watched the three drinkers from the moonlit rocking chair beside the Magma’s double hung windows. Nearest the door sat the large woman. Her skin was the color of moss, and the blood pulsing through her bulging veins carried a level of testosterone seldom found even in male humans. Next to her hunched the scholarly craftsman who squirmed sheepishly in the bartender Cecilia’s gaze. Lastly, and more interestingly to Eliott, there was the brigand who pecked at his drink as though each sip had the power to send him reeling to bed. Eliott was not quite sure how he knew this last man, Mr. Cross, was a brigand. Perhaps it was the drawl in his voice. Perhaps it was the effortless power had over the other two. In Eliott’s days as a lawman, he would have taken Mr. Cross out back for no better reason than to investigate the suspicions now blooming in his imagination. This, his ex-wife would have told him, was the reason Eliott was no longer a lawman. No matter. There was another, even more interesting person in the barroom.
His posture spoke of total disinterest and his voice spoke not at all, yet for some reason Eliott expected his presence. It seemed to him the most natural thing in the world that the saloon’s smattering of antisocial constituents should be observed by someone who stood apart. It was rather illogical, it occurred to Eliott, that he should label this last stranger as more ‘other’ than the rest. He did though. And that was that. He nodded to the observer. The observer stepped outside. Rather rude, thought Elliot. Not unexpected.
The sound of shattering brickstone rent Eliott’s boredom in two. He liked surprises. He liked violence. Something had impacted the Magma’s chimney with great velocity, and he was keen to see what it was.
It was a rock. Nine inches of semi-translucent quartz encased in a potpourri of porous moonstones. It had come from the sky with a great enough momentum to burrow two feet into the boulder behind the saloon, but it carried no heat. It reminded Eliott of something, but he couldn’t quite remember what it was. He had to touch it. Surely once he touched it he would remember. He prodded it gently. Why had he touched the crystal? He couldn’t remember. He shook his head and rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“Pardon!” Cecilia called from the crater out back.
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“Yes ma’am?” returned Mr. Cross.
“Will someone check the chimney? I think it’s broke!”
“Sure thing ma’am!” Cross beckoned to the big woman. “Sutha, why doncha take a look….”
A racket of shattering stone caused Hadraniel to slosh crabapple juice all over his nightclothes. He blinked his artificial eyes. Flexed the artificial fingers of his right hand. Wriggled the artificial toes of his left foot. Most of the time, Hardaniel was glad for how human he felt. Now, as he lay in a moist, sticky mess of bed linens, he wished to feel less.
“Pardon!” the inn’s matron called from somewhere below. Hadraniel shrugged the covers from his small body and allowed himself to drop to the floor.
“Yes ma’am?” returned a stranger from the bar downstairs. Hadraniel began the painstaking process of donning his tiny boots.
“Will someone check the chimney? I think it’s broke!”
Hadraniel very much wanted to help. It was his favorite thing to do. In order to get downstairs, however, he would have to wrestle with his room’s doorknob. He stood only three feet eight inches tall, and had only one hand capable of gripping a circular knob. Doors, especially rusted doors such as this one, were trouble for him.
“Sure thing ma’am!” the stranger returned helpfully. He would not beat Hadraniel to aiding in the task at hand! “Sutha, why doncha take a look….”
“I can do it!” Hadraniel called as he descended into the barroom. He did not mind the way that three of the strangers stared, or the way that the fourth scowled. He was used to it. He sauntered across the room to peer up the chimney. The dull glow of the smoldering coals at his feet was too weak to illuminate anything of interest. A monstrous woman joined him at the hearthside.
“You must be Sutha!” He greeted her with his standard cheer. “Would ya mind helping me up into this chimney?”
She thrust him up the flue with one powerful arm, and it became clear to Hadraniel that the chimney most definitely was broken. The top ten feet of the chimney stack was nowhere to be seen, and the stunted tunnel that remained was obstructed by a chunk of brickstone debris.
“Apologies Ms. Cecilia.” Hadraniel reported. “It’s quite broke. Blocked too.”
Sutha set him beside the hearth, where he clapped soot from his hands.
“Hello!” He greeted everyone at once. “I’m Hadraniel.”
Cecilia humored him with a nod. Sutha waved. Cross looked amused. Eliott looked cross.