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The smiling gunslinger ducked behind the bar with a salute to the tender, heading past the swinging doors into the back hallways of the dancing hall. It was a hot night, and there were more folk than usual crowded at the bar, at the gambling tables, ogling the girls on stage. Which meant more work for him, keeping the tables honest and tossing the inevitable troublemakers outside on their rumps. Bouncing wasn’t his usual profession, but it paid well enough to delay him a few weeks, maybe a month or two, before he moved on again.
But right now it was his turn to swap out with the other bouncer, to snag a big mug of water and a plate of chili, and find a place out of the way to camp out and eat. He was stuffing the last bits of cornbread into his mouth when a high little voice interrupted him.
“Uncle Caleb?”
It was one of the girl’s daughters. Accidents happen, even in a place such as this, and there were a number of kids running the back halls. This one was Sesemi, a tiny thing of about six who had taken a shine to him. She’d clearly just woken up from a nap, and her cloud of black hair was all in tangles.
“Yeah, darlin’, what can I do for ya?” Caleb set his bowl to one side and propped his elbows on his knees.
“Mama and the aunties are all working, and none of the other girls will help me. Will you fix my hair, please?” She held a comb in one hand and offered it to him, dark eyes wide.
Caleb squinted at her, which made her giggle, and took the comb. “Surely will. Siddown, kid.”
Sesemi dragged over a bucket, overturned to make a seat, and settled between his knees. “Jana and Bimi think you can’t do hair. Boys don’t know how, they said.”
“They just don’t know enough boys,” Caleb said, laughing. He started patiently working out the tangles, starting from the bottom with short measured strokes. “I know lots of boys who have long hair who can do it up just as pretty as a gal’s.”
“Really? Who?”
“Old friends of mine. They’re long gone now.” He tilted her head to get at a big snarl just behind her ear, picking it smooth again. Once he had her locks straight, he plucked a tie from his shirt pocket, stuck it between his teeth, and set about braiding the whole bit to keep it from snarling again.
“Will you tell me a story, Uncle Caleb? About your boyfriends?”
Caleb huffed a laugh from behind his teeth. “Sure, darlin’. How about I tell you the one with my buddy Sainen and the thorntoad? Y’see, Sainen was a city boy, born and raised up north. He didn’t know all the tricks to livin’ out in the desert. So one day…”
A woman in a red silk gown materialized in the shadows between backstage and the girl’s quarters, down the hall from Caleb and his small friend. Another woman, this one shorter with violent plum-colored hair and black leather armor, showed up next to her. She narrowed dark eyes at the domestic tableau.
“Are you sure this is the one, Lysistrata? He doesn’t seem very impressive.”
“I’m certain, Deus. He cares. He’ll be the one to take up the challenge.” Lysistrata drew several sheets of fine rice paper prayer strips from her full sleeves. “Now, you and I both have some fate weaving to do. I’ll do my part here.”
“I hope you’re right about that Lawgiver. Good luck,” Deus said. She stepped back, deeper into the shadows, and drew a knife. With a flick of violet essence on the tip of the blade, the shorter Sidereal vanished.
“I don’t need luck,” Lysistrata said. “I have fate on my side.” She drew her resplendent destiny around her shoulders like a cloak and started down the hall.