Shina’s saloon wasn’t exactly what I’d expected, to be honest. The place was quiet, for one thing. A few people sat at the bar, drinking and chatting amiably enough, while four more sat at a table, cards in hand as they played a game I didn’t recognize. A man in a smooth, white shirt covered by a dark blue apron stood behind the bar, his pinkish hair slicked back and gleaming against his head and his pale mustache neatly trimmed. He glanced up at us as we entered and inclined his head toward the sheriff without saying a word.
The saloon was also somewhat elegant and tasteful. The floor was wood, sanded smooth and stained chestnut brown. The wooden walls gleamed, and various pictures and woven rugs hung from them. Brass candelabras hung from the ceiling, their candles bathing the place in a cheery glow, while a long, silver mirror dominated the wall behind the bar, allowing the bartender to watch his customers even as he poured drinks. Stairs led up one wall to a balcony that overlooked the main room, and three women in low-cut dresses leaned over the railing, eyeing the customers below while occasionally lifting a leg to give those customers an eyeful of what lay hidden beneath their skirts, but they didn’t call out or crudely proposition anyone.
The sheriff led me through the room to a back door marked with more script I couldn’t understand. As he knocked on it, I focused my thoughts inward.
“Sara, how long do you think it will take to work out their written language?”
“It’s hard to say, John. Their script seems surprisingly complex and intricate. If I could get a decently sized book, I could probably work it out in a few minutes, but with the bits and pieces I’m seeing, it might be a couple days.”
“If it helps, I’m pretty sure that sign says, ‘Private’,” I suggested.
“It might. Of course, it also might say, ‘Shina’, or ‘Office’, or ‘Owner’, or any of a dozen or more things, too.”
“Good point.” I suppressed a sigh, reminding myself that Sara was way the hell better at that sort of thing than I’d ever be, and I should probably just shut up and let her do her job. She laughed quietly in what I took to be agreement.
The door opened, revealing a short woman with light green hair gone mostly white, pulled back in an elaborate bun. Her narrow face seemed extra pinched, and her dark eyes looked smaller than the norm in this world. She wore a violet dress with elaborate silver stitching across the chest and down the front, and a pair of glossy, black boots with sharp toes protruded from beneath them.
“Sheriff,” the woman spoke in a surprisingly deep and fluid voice. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, Shina, I’m hoping to do something for you,” he replied, touching the brim of his hat. “This here is Naasi, a newcomer to town – and I think he’ll serve as poor old Pradmu’s replacement.”
She turned and looked me up and down critically. “You’re not very large,” she observed sourly. “Or muscular. That gun tucked into your waistband; is it just for show, or can you use it?”
“I can use it, ma’am,” I answered. “I’d hope not to have to, of course.”
“Hmm.” She took a step toward me, and her right hand darted out like a little snake. Without even thinking, I leaned to the side and slapped her hand away, gripping the wrist and twisting while I locked up her arm. The blade of a little knife gleamed in her fist, and I quickly twisted it out of her hand with my free one, then released her arm and handed it back to her hilt-first.
“I think you dropped this,” I said dryly.
“Well, then,” she said approvingly, massaging her wrist as she took the knife back. “You’ve got good reflexes, and you’ve obviously been trained.” She looked at the sheriff. “Handler?”
“Wannabe,” he replied. “No pets yet, though.”
“One of those,” she sighed. “Very well, you’ll do. Come on in.” She stepped back and held open the door, allowing me to walk past. “My thanks, Sheriff. Things were getting a bit tense in the evenings.”
“Glad to be of service, Shina,” he tipped his hat toward me. “When you’re done, come back to my office, and I’ll get you set up in the deputy’s quarters. Good luck.”
He walked away, and Shina shut the door. I took a moment to look around her office. It was small, only ten by ten and dominated by a large, heavy desk in the center of the room. A painting of the saloon’s interior hung on the back wall, well done in muted colors. A large, floor-to-ceiling wall safe made up the wall to my left, while to my right, a bookshelf held a dozen or so leatherbound books. Curiously, I took one off the shelf and opened it. I couldn’t read the script, of course, but I flipped through the pages nonetheless, giving Sara a chance to process the writing. After a few seconds, I snapped it shut and slipped it back on the shelf.
“Did that help?”
“Quite a bit, yes. It’s an impressive writing style, really. I’ll need more to fully work it out, but I think I almost have it.”
“You can read, then?” Shina asked me as she sat behind her desk, looking like a child behind the large structure.
“It depends on the language,” I hedged. “I can’t read everything ever written in any language.”
She grunted. “Fair enough.” She gestured to a leather-covered chair, and I sat down gratefully. She looked me up and down, her eyes appraising.
“You’re from the east,” she said after a moment. “And from money.”
“Is it that obvious?”
She nodded. “You haven’t spent your life in the Gistal, or you’d be tanned by now – and your hands would be calloused. Your clothing is well made but not fancy, but it’s in too good of condition to have come here in the standard cars on the Western Line or along the roads. You came here in a sleeper car, and that means you’re used to having enough money that you don’t care how you spend it.”
She leaned back. “What did Sheriff Ramka tell you about the job?”
“That it involved keeping the peace,” I said. “Preferably without drawing my pistol.”
“That’s the basics, but it’s a bit more than that,” she shook her head. “Your job is to see fights coming and stop them before they happen. That means you move around the edge of the room, watch everyone, and look for signs of tempers flaring. If you see them, you make yourself visible. Usually, that’s enough to remind people to behave themselves.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you calm them down.” She turned in her chair and looked at the painting hanging behind her. “Do you know what the purpose of this place is, stranger?”
I grinned at her. “To make you money, I’d guess.”
“Exactly,” she nodded, her face surprised. “Most would say that it’s about having a good time, or drinking, or gambling, but they’d be wrong. All those things exist to make me money, nothing more.”
She looked back at me. “My alcohol is cheap because drunk people gamble more and whore more, no other reason. I keep the place quiet so more people will come drink in it, and I keep it orderly for the same reason. I want my customers to feel safe here, to know they can come drink, gamble, fuck, or whatever they like without having to worry about their safety.”
She leaned forward. “When things get out of hand, you calm them down, nothing more. No killings. No throwing people out. No broken bones or unconscious people I’ve got to pay to have carried home. Dead people don’t spend money here. People out in the mud on the street don’t spend money here. Your job is to keep them at their tables, drinking and gambling – and to keep my girls safe, of course.”
“And if they won’t calm down?” I asked dryly. “Not everyone will, you know.”
“Then Rajdra at the bar will fetch me, and I’ll tell you it’s time for them to leave,” she said firmly. “Only I make that decision, not Rajdra, not you, not anyone else. Understood?” I nodded. “Good.”
She tapped the table. “Pay is a taan a day. Probably doesn’t seem like much to you, but to most, that’s three to five days’ pay. I pay well because I expect a lot from those who work from me. You’ll start an hour before sundown each day and work until three hours after midnight, when we shut down. You get a piss break every two hours. You can drink all the water or tea you’d like, but no alcohol when you’re working – it makes you slow and stupid. Questions?”
“What about food?” I asked.
“This is a saloon, not an eatery. You can eat at Shantu’s place down the road before your shift, or you can buy rations at Manasi’s general store and eat them during your shift, so long as it doesn’t keep you from doing your job.”
“How often do I get paid?”
“On seven-day, same as everyone else. Do you have any money?” I shook my head and she sighed. “Of course, not. Damn rich kids, don’t understand how money works.” She took a key from her dress and unlocked a drawer at her desk. She pulled it open and slipped out a couple of dull, gray coins, sliding them across the table to me.
“Here. This is your first two days’ pay. One taan will feed you for a week at Shantu’s, or you can buy about the same amount of rations from Manasi. The choice is yours.” She shut the drawer and locked it, then rose to her feet. “Come. I’ll show you around and introduce you to everyone.” She hesitated. “Obviously, Naasi isn’t your real name. Is that what you’re going by, or is it something the sheriff stuck on you?”
“He picked it, not me,” I shrugged. “I don’t mind too much, though. I really am something of a newcomer to all this.”
She nodded. “Fine, but if you don’t want to use your real name, I suggest you think of a better alias. People aren’t going to be intimidated by ‘Naasi’.”
She took me outside and walked me around, introducing me to the others. Rajdra, the bartender, was a friendly sort who had a ready smile and an open expression. The three women upstairs were Rose, Lily, and Jasmine – not their actual names, I suspected. Rose and Lily greeted me perfunctorily, barely glancing my way, while Jasmine gave me a shy smile.
“It’s so good to have new blood in this town,” she said in a slightly girlish voice, one hand reaching up to play with her bright orange hair while she looked at me through coquettishly lowered lashes. “And such a handsome man, too! I’m sure we’re going to be great friends.”
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“I’m sure we will,” I replied with a light smile, refraining from rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “I’m always looking to make new friends, after all.”
“Yes, yes, we’re all friends,” Lily sighed. Her pale green hair was elaborately styled and braided, but her pretty face had a hard, world-weary expression to it.
“Jas,” the crimson-haired Rose spoke in an amused voice, “before you get all excited, he obviously only looks rich. If he had money, he wouldn’t be working as a bouncer here, would he?”
Jasmine’s face fell into a pout. “Oh. That’s true, isn’t it? So, you’re not rich?”
“Sorry, no,” I shook my head. “Does that mean we can’t be friends?”
“Sure, sure,” she sighed, turning away from me and looking back down at the sparse clientele below, obviously no longer interested in me.
Shina led me away with a long-suffering expression on her face. “Jasmine’s convinced that a wealthy merchant or railroad baron is going to come through here one day and fall in love with her,” she said tiredly.
“They won’t?” I asked. I knew the answer, of course, but the person I was playing wouldn’t.
“No. Murkburg is a fine place, but it only exists so lumber from Grimbark and ore from Whitestone can be carried south on the river or east on the Western Line. We’re a stop-off, nothing more, home to a few stores, some farms, and a couple of shipping offices. There’s no reason for someone with money and influence to come here.”
She led me back downstairs. “Those with real wealth and influence don’t stop in places like Murkburg,” she added. “They take the Western Line south past Vadoo to Fazil, at the mouth of the Songkhee, or they take a steamship past the Nayeg Grasslands up to Magoor, opposite the island of Kahet.” She sighed appreciatively. “That’s where the real money is.” She glanced back at me and made a face. “At least, out here in the Gistal.”
“So, why doesn’t Jasmine go to one of those places?” I asked, certain that I knew the answer already.
“Because she’s not going to make any money whoring in the streets of Magoor, and she knows it. All she’ll get is old before her time and regular beatings from rough customers. If she wants safety, she needs a madame, and the ones in Magoor and Fazil aren’t hiring backwoods girls from Murkburg. They want the merchant daughter from Na Jhauta who didn’t want to marry and ran away from home; they want a dark-skinned girl from the Gathan Confederacy who came here thinking she’d make her fortune and found out she could make it on her back; they want the pale Kazari whose father lost everything on a bad investment in the Kahetian markets and who was seized as partial payment for his debt.”
She shook her head. “Jasmine’s a good girl – all my girls are – but the only way she’ll make real money is if she somehow finds a way to Pala and the Sarjay Empire. There, she’d be an exotic beauty from far-off Mukkal, able to demand sonats for her time and get it. Here, she’s just another farmer’s daughter who realized it’s easier to be plowed than to work a plow.”
I had to suppress a snort of amusement at that, but my incipient laughter faded as she paused and looked toward the door with a sigh. I glanced over and saw two men enter the saloon. They both stood taller and wider than me. The one in front wore dark brown jeans and a long leather jacket that I had a feeling covered at least one hidden pistol. His face was dusty, and when he removed his hat, his silver hair lay plastered flat with sweat against his head. The one behind was dressed similarly, but he kept his hat on, and a dark blue mustache covered the lower half of his face in a wild tangle.
“Shit,” Shina muttered. “The Nagal brothers.” She looked over at me, her expression grim. “Well, looks like it might be time for you to earn those two taans I just gave you.”
“Rajdra!” the man in front bellowed. “Whisky for me and my brother!”
“Manas, you know Miss Shina told you boys you can’t drink here anymore after the last time,” Rajdra replied, his voice tense as he spoke. “Why don’t you head down to Shantu’s and grab a bit to eat, instead?”
“We don’t want to eat, you little prick,” Manas said, sitting at the bar. “We want to drink, and then we want to fuck!”
I looked around the room and noticed that everyone had stopped what they were doing and watched the two men. Manas sat at the bar, oblivious to everyone around him, but his brother remained standing, looking at the card players with a challenging glare. The people at the bar grabbed their drinks and walked away, heading toward the back of the room. Everyone seemed to think that an explosion was imminent, which meant that it probably was.
Shina walked forward, but I hung back, edging around the side of the room, putting space between the two of us.
“Manas, Chettur, you know you aren’t welcome here,” the diminutive woman said in her loud, clear voice. “Head on out, now, before there’s trouble.”
“There’s not going to be any trouble, Miss Shina,” Manas shook his head. “I’m going to get some whisky, then go see my Rosie, and everything will be fine.”
I glanced up at the three women at the railing and noticed that the red-headed Rose had vanished, while the other two seemed nervous and on edge. I looked back at Chettur, the silent brother, watching him warily as I sidled toward the door leading out of the place. He was the dangerous one, I could tell. Manas looked like an idiot; Chettur looked ready to hurt someone.
“Rose doesn’t want to see you,” Shina said. “None of my girls do after last time. You know my rules, Manas. No hurting my girls, or you aren’t welcome here anymore.”
“We weren’t hurting her,” Manas protested. “She liked it! That’s why she kept begging us for it!”
“You hurt her bad. I had to get a doctor in here from Vadoo just to see to her.” Shina shook her head. “Get out, now, or I’ll be calling the sheriff. You know what he’ll do if he sees you in here again.”
“Ain’t gonna be no sheriff,” Chettur growled, pulling back his jacket to reveal a pair of revolvers strapped at his waist. He put his hand on one, his expression daring anyone to challenge him. “Anyone goes to get the sheriff, he won’t make it three steps before I shoot him down.”
“Chettur!” Every eye in the bar turned toward me as I walked toward the pair, my arms outstretched, and my face creased with a smile. “Chettur, is that you?”
“I don’t know you, mister,” the bigger man growled.
“Chettur, how can you say that?” I demanded, walking closer. “Don’t you remember? We spent the whole night in Vadoo drinking and whoring! It was the best!”
“I ain’t never been to Vadoo, stranger,” Chettur denied. “Now, get back!”
“Sure, you have!” I laughed, ignoring him and idly moving closer. “I mean, I understand why you might not want to admit it after you couldn’t get it up the whole night, but that’s nothing to be embarrassed about!”
“Damn you, mister, I never…!” Chettur was fast, drawing his revolver in a smooth motion and twisting toward me, his face mottled with anger, but hampered by his heavy coat and the leather strap holding his pistol in place, he wasn’t fast enough. I grabbed his wrist with one hand as he brought it up and twisted, bringing his hand high above my head and forcing him to bend forward or risk his arm breaking. At the same time, I kicked upward, and my boot caught him in the solar plexus. He coughed and gagged, dropping to his knees even as I grabbed his pistol and twisted it free from his grip.
Manas spun toward me, fumbling for the gun hidden beneath his jacket, but I reached out and grabbed his shirt, yanking him forward and pulling him off the stool. He stumbled, and I slipped behind him, snaking my arm around his throat and locking it in place by grabbing the opposite shoulder of my shirt. Chettur lurched to his feet, but I snapped a kick at his knee, and he dropped with a howl, clutching the wounded leg. He grabbed for his pistol, then froze as I leveled the one I’d taken from him at his face.
“Now, gentlemen,” I said in a calm voice even as Manas went limp in my grip as my arm around his neck cut off the blood flow to his brain. I let go of him, and he dropped heavily to the floor, so I kicked him onto his back with one foot, bent down, and relieved him of his pistol without taking my eye or my gun off Chettur. “Or should I say, gentleman. I’m pretty sure there’s a law in this town that you can’t go around carrying firearms. I’m going to need you to take that pistol out of your belt and lay it down on the floor for me.” His hand reached down for the pistol’s grip, and I quickly cocked the revolver in my hand. “Gently, please. None of us want anything unfortunate to happen, do we?”
Chettur stared at me, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and hatred, but he slowly slid his pistol out and laid it on the floor.
“Good. Now, take two steps back and get on your knees, hands laced behind your head.” The bigger man followed my orders, his face hateful but his gaze resigned. I stepped forward and slid his pistol to the side with my foot, then stepped back as Manas coughed and groaned.
“What the fuck happened?” the man said, clutching his forehead as his eyes slowly opened. “Damn, my head hurts!” He looked up at me, and his eyes widened. “You! You son of a bitch, I’ll…” He reached for his belt and swore again when he found his empty holster.
“Stay there and don’t move,” I ordered. “Someone go get the sheriff.”
“Yes, sir,” a man near the door spoke before he bolted out the front, leaving the doors swinging behind him in his haste.
“Who the fuck are you?” Chettur growled. “Whoever you are, you’re a dead man!”
I didn’t say a word but kept the pistol aimed at Chettur. A minute later, the sheriff strolled into the saloon, his posture lazy but his expression flat, and I lowered the pistol and replaced the hammer at his entrance.
“Manas. Chettur.” The old man shook his head. “I believe I told you to stay out of town for a while and to leave Shina’s alone when you came back, didn’t I?”
“We were just here for some fun, Sheriff,” Manas whined from the floor. “We didn’t hurt nobody! This asshole here jumped us for no reason!”
“They came here to see Rose, Sheriff,” Shina said in a flat voice. “When my new security intervened, Chettur drew steel, and he put them down. Davan-style.”
The sheriff glanced at me, his eyes startled, then looked back at the pair on the floor with a hard expression. “So, you brought firearms into my town, then tried to use them on someone?” He stepped toward Chettur and grabbed the back of the bigger man’s neck with one hand, hauling him upright almost effortlessly despite the man probably weighing 190 or so. “You’re looking at jail time, Chettur.”
“Fuck you, Sheriff!” the big man roared as a wide-bladed, curved knife suddenly appeared in his hand. His arm flashed forward, and the dagger plunged toward the sheriff’s midsection. I lifted my pistol once more but froze as the blade struck the sheriff’s stomach with the sound of tearing cloth – and stopped, resting against the man’s exposed skin, dimpling the flesh but not penetrating. I stared in surprise at the sheriff, wondering how he’d armored his skin like that. It must have been magic of some sort, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that sort of magic.
“Well, now, that was just stupid,” the sheriff sighed. “Attacking an officer of the law, Chettur? There’s only one penalty for that. Looks like Parri gets to eat today after all.”
“Wait!” Chettur said, his expression panicked as the sheriff began dragging him back toward the door. “No! I didn’t mean to! Please!” The big man struggled, but the officer hauled him along like he was a child caught in an adult’s grip.
“Oh, shit!” Manas said, scrambling to his feet. “No! Sheriff, no! Please!”
“I’d stay down if I were you, Manas,” Shina said quietly. “Otherwise, the sheriff’s likely to think that you’re attacking him, too.”
“That’s my brother!” Manas protested.
“Your brother tried to stab the sheriff. The penalty for attacking the law’s the same anywhere in the Gistal, Manas. The sheriff’s got no choice.”
“No!” Manas wailed as the pair disappeared out the door. “Chettur!” He scrambled to his knees, and I grabbed his hair, sweeping one of his arms with a foot but using his hair to keep his face from crashing into the wood floor. I pressed his head down and pushed my knee into the point between his shoulder blades, holding him in place.
“Let me go, asshole!” the man shouted, thrashing beneath me.
“He’s doing you a favor, Manas,” Shina said flatly. “You don’t want to see what’s going to happen.”
I silently agreed with her. Part of me was a little revolted by what I imagined was about to happen. Killing Chettur, I could agree with. I’d seen his type before; he was a sadist, pure and simple, a man who obviously craved violence. He’d been waiting for the chance to draw his pistol, hoping that he could use it on someone. He was a rabid dog, and rabid animals had to be put down before they hurt someone. Some people simply needed killing, after all. If the sheriff shot him right then and there, I’d have silently applauded the man. Hell, I’d have been happy to do it for him.
However, handing the man over to that monster didn’t sit well with me. Turning a human being – or whatever we were in this place – into food seemed like a savage and cruel way to kill them. Chettur was obviously an ass, but that didn’t mean he had to become meat for the beast. This felt inhumane, and I quickly reevaluated my initial thoughts about the sheriff. The man liked his law and order, and I was fine with that, but he was obviously a lot more savage than he seemed.
Outside, a low whistle sounded, followed by Chettur’s screams of panic. A shadow passed over the door, and the man’s screams grew louder and shriller. A loud thump rang in the silence of the saloon, followed by a frenzied shriek that ended abruptly. Manas fell still, began sobbing, and I stepped back and let him go. He curled up in a ball, his cries loud and pathetic. I for one was grateful for the caterwauling; it muffled the horrific crunching and cracking sounds coming from outside. After silence descended, the sheriff came back into the saloon, his face somber.
“Justice is done,” he said in a quiet voice. “Manas, you have one hour to visit Manasi’s place and buy and sell whatever you need. Afterward, I suggest you take your stock to someplace like Southfork or Grimbark and set yourself up there. If I see you in this town again after that, you’ll join your brother. Is that understood?”
Manas rose unsteadily to his feet, his face red and blotchy and his eyes tear-streaked. “I’ll get you for this, Sheriff,” he whispered. “So help me, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make you pay for this.”
“Better men than you have said the same, boy. I’m still here. Now get out of here, and don’t come back to my town again.”