"Philosophers can be both imaginative in their ignorance and ignorant of their ability to imagine."

-Attercap Skvosip, survivor

On the third morning after Earl's less than triumphant return. Charlie woke to find Herschel was up, but she wasn't sure what he was about. Facing the barred window, he was swaying slightly from side to side. A bit like one of the drunks she was used to seeing in the cells. Except he gave of a peaceful energy, instead of the smell of the morning after. In her many jobs, she'd smelled a little of everything. Still, there was nothing like the rotting from the inside reek of a hangover.

It annoyed Da that Charlie'd taken Rascal's example. They were both sleeping in the cell corridor. Because except for waking up to drink, and babble nonsense, the tall, dark stranger had been out for days. She regretted that her other jobs had gone undone as of late. But someone had to nurse Herschel back to health, and Rascal must have her reasons too. Since setting herself the task, Charlie even spent most of her birthday in the jail. It was yesterday, and Fannie'd been in to try and shoo them out for some fresh air and cake. Neither of them were very understanding. Rascal'd tilted her head, like Fannie was trying to sell water to a drowning dog.

Right now Herschel reminded her of an indecent tomcat soaking up the morning sun. Because the bedclothes wrapped over his shoulder weren't covering him properly. Not moving, she just laid there eyeing the improper backside.

What Da and Fannie couldn't see, was that this was the most exciting thing to ever happen in this two-horse town. Meeting a real-life Nontie, even if he was only part Áettar. It wasn't until Earl carried the tanned man into the office that she realised what the missing tracks had meant. As the peas-keeper, he was still hoping people would accept Herschel as human. But even with his round blue eyes, he still looked much too foreign.

Herschel was taller than most men she knew, but still managed to look frail. While he slept, she tried guessing his age. Earl'd taken to calling him the old man, and with the grey streak in Herschel's black hair, he might be right. Still, his skin was smooth, and its reddish-brown colour reminded Charlie of Fannie's precious bar-counter.

Remembering skin, her cheeks flashed red. She'd had to remove his leather gear to check for injuries. In hindsight she sure wasn't keeping her eyes closed was the more modest choice. Charlie was far from shy. Growing up around farmers and day labourers took that out of you real quick. Even so, she'd been uneasy about disrobing the unconscious man. And the feeling was making a comeback the longer she laid there watching his bare arse.

So, she summoned her courage, pulled the covers up to her nose, and squeaked, "gud mornin."

Herschel turned to face her, thank Zissmus the wardrobe malfunction was just in the back.

"Hello, it is certainly a morning. But what is it about it that makes it good?"

"I dunno, it's jus' somethin' people say. But ya've been asleep for three days. So wakin' up should be gud, rite?"

He raised a black eyebrow considering this for a moment. "Yes, I suppose that is good. Can you please tell me where I am?"

"Ya don't know? No, I reckon ya wouldn't, would ya? Ya're in the marshal's office."

Herschel scrutinised the cell, "this is the nicest prison I've ever been in."

The compliment caught Charlene off guard and her cheeks reddened again.

"It's too nicshe ifin ya aschks me!" Seamus saved her from having to respond.

"You get outta 'ere Seamus! Ya've been snoring in holding for two days! If ya're not sober by now, ya never will be!"

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Charlene held up a finger to stop Herschel from talking. There were some grumbling noises, and the front door to holding opened and closed. She pointed at him to continue.

"What's a marshal?"

"How can ya not kno' about the town marshals?"

"Everything is easy once you know it, but I try to know nothing."

"Well, I dunno wha' tha' means, but they're law-men, they uphold the peas."

"Law-men? Who uphold the peace? That sounds unlikely, the law is always riddled with conflict."

A shock went through her system. Like most Agalians, she was a proud of her law-abiding nature. "How can ya say that? If there weren't no marshals people'd run amok!"

"Those who worship the law are often the same who want to bend it to their purpose. And if the only way to uphold the peace is by enforcing it with violence, there couldn't have been much peace to begin with. Don't you think?"

Her lips pursed in annoyance. "I dunno 'bout yer law worshippers, but my Da's not like that!"

"Your father? I don't see how he connects to this?"

While keeping an intense amount of eye contact, Herschel sat down, and crossed his legs into a position that looked horribly uncomfortable.

"He's the marshal, an' he's a gud man!"

"Oh, I see the confusion. You're talking about your father, but I'm talking about the idea of law in general. They're not the same. I'm sure your father is a good man from your perspective."

His calm way of talking was getting on her nerves. "He risked 'is life to save ya from a lynching! I'd tink that'd make 'im a gud man ta ya too!"

Herschel's whole face seemed to attack the idea. She watched as his frown wrestled with itself. "Yes, I'll accept that your father is both a law-man and a good man, and I'm sorry if I implied otherwise. Does that mean I can go?"

"Eh, ya've been arrested for stealin', so no, ya can't leave."

"Ah, I suppose the most we can expect from freedom is being allowed to choose our own prisons."

She was getting worried. Most of what he said made no sense, but something about how he said it made it feel right.

"Where exactly did ya come from?"

"How far are we from the valley of skulls?"

"The passage ta the east? That's a long way aff. An' no one goes there, the Bergs charge mad taxes ta pass."

"And where is Stagna?"

"The town's north af where Zanja splits in three?"

"Oh, it's that town," Herschel said with a knowing tone. "That's a substantial bit less than further than possible."

"What do ya mean further than possible?"

No answer, but he started shaking his head in a worrying manner. Looking like a man who'd sold his horse and lost the money. Her Da'd been right, getting a straight answer out of this one wasn't going to be easy.

"Jus' forget tha' other thing an' tell me, where did ya come from?" Herschel frowned like a baby trying hard to soil its diaper.

"I-I ran, for a long time, I have to keep running." He put his arms on his legs hiding his face in the cradle. "Can I please go?"

This was the first time Charlene'd ever seen a grown man cry. For a split second, she considered letting him go. Rascal was enthralled by the plea as well. The dog'd been sitting in the corner of the cell, they let her in out of fear she'd chew through the bars. Now she went to Herschel's side and dug her head into his cradle licking his face.

"No sorry, ya're still under arrest."

"For what?"

"The chickens, ya took 'em didn't ya?"

"I was hungry."

"But the chickens belonged to the farmers, so you stole 'em?" Her statement ended up sounding like a question.

"No, we can't own living things, but if we catch one it makes it food. Putting them in little buildings makes them very easy to catch. I'm sorry if I took something they believed they owned, but I only took where there was excess. I would never take anything, lawful or not, if I thought it meant someone else had to do without."

"Ookay, I'll go tell Da ya're awake, he can explain all this ta ya." Charlene retreated instead of giving up a full-blown surrender.

On her way out, she remembered what she'd prepared earlier. "Would ya like a bath? I had Da put a small tub in the other cell."

"I'd enjoy that and please thank your father for saving my life."

"I'll see if I can find ya some regular clothes too, and a hat."

"I don't like hats."

"Of course ya do, that's silly, everyone likes hats." In this Charlene would brook no argument.

Lighting the small office stove to heat some water, she was surprised how well the bath idea had gone down. Da always said, 'a bathtub is just a boat, that hasn't found enough water to sink in.'

Coming out of the marshal's office, she overhead a group of men loitering around the hanging tree.

"Mi brother saw the marshal 'auling 'im in. He swore it wus one of 'em Nontie, leather clothes an' everythin'!"

"I ain't ever seen no Nontie before, but with the 'anging we'll all get a gud look."

"Yup, gonna be tha best market in years!"

They were discussing the coming entertainment. It made Charlie sick.