Lizard, Black Wizard, and Red Bird
This was originally published in Raconteur Press’ Wyrd West anthology. I think it’s weird enough. I can do weird for days. It’s not as western as I’d like, but you can judge for yourself:
I hung, limp and exhausted, tied to the saddle. No matter how far the mad horse ran, The Lizard was still in my head. She showed me visions of the dwarf who tied me here, and the vengeance she took on him. The Lizard commanded my return, calling me like a mother. "Abigail! Time to come home!" Even now, exhausted, saddle-sore, so thirsty my tongue was swelling up, I'd crawl back to her if I could.
I rode to my death. It was better than serving The Lizard, and I took the dwarf's moonstone with me. That was his price for helping me escape.
But I didn't die.
My horse was wandering down a gully when the creaking of a wagon spooked him. He climbed out the gully and almost ran into the old wagon, a Murphy, with no canvas between the bows. A pair of oxen pulled it, as it protested with squeaks and groans and loose slats of wood clapping against one another. Two men walked alongside it.
The first was a pale sickly man dressed in a black vest, black trousers, and a black Derby. He leaned on a wide cane with bands of silver. The other was a darker man wearing a red shirt and red Stetson. My horse fled from them as they spoke.
"What did I tell you, Red Bird? Providence shall provide."
"Providence? You don't serve the Lord."
"I serve one who rewards favor with favors. Catch that horse for me, will you?"
The mad horse wasn't sprinting, but I doubted anyone could catch us on foot. The oxen pulling that wagon weren't going to. I heard no running footsteps behind me, but the mad horse slowed. I began to hear a muttering. Tied as I was, I couldn't turn far enough to see who was doing it.
My horse stopped. The man in red approached and grabbed the reins. The mad horse didn't make the slightest effort to bite, but his eyes were wide, his breathing fast, and he kept jerking his head away.
"Well, now, little lark," the man in red said, "what a beauty you are." He wasn't talking to the horse. "How did you get yourself tied to this stallion?"
He was dark, like a Mexican or Indian, but he spoke like a rich man from back East. He began untying me as the man in black limped towards us. I tried to tell him to stop, to keep me tied on the horse, to let it go, to let me die. I couldn't make the words. When I struggled and pulled my hands away, he smacked the back of my hand hard. "Stop that," he said. There wasn't any point. He would end up untying me one way or another.
"Why don't you introduce us," the man in black said. He sounded foreign, but I couldn't place the accent.
"You may call me Red Bird. Call him Black. We'll get you fed and watered, little lark. You'll be singing for us by morning."
"Yes, give her a little water," Black said, "and put her in the wagon. There's a creek a few hours south. I'm sure the lady will feel better after a bath." Black shook his finger at Red Bird as if he was scolding him. "And there will be no peeking." Black turned to me with a smile that was not in the least reassuring. He wouldn't meet my eyes, staring instead at my forehead. "We'll treat our guest like a lady, and maybe she will return the favor. Do we still have Widow Olson's clothes?"
Red Bird nodded.
"Then she can be dressed as a lady as well. And bring the horse. We should give something back." Black turned his gaze away from my forehead and limped back to the wagon. Once he untied me, Red Bird easily lifted me off the horse and let me drink a little—too little—from a canteen. He carried me back to the wagon and let me down gently in the back. The mad horse followed him. Looking up, I saw there was no canvas, but there was fencing wire wound between all the wagon's bows in intricate knots.
The Lizard called in my head. "Abigail! Time to come home!" I rolled over and tried to get on my hands and knees.
"Did you feel that, Red Bird?" Black asked. I heard him limp up to the wagon, and he climbed in and loomed over me. He pushed me down roughly and rolled me onto my back. "Hm," he said. "Who's pulling your strings? Well, I feel like cutting them."
Black began to adjust the fencing wire between the bows, then opened a trunk and got out more wire, winding it back and forth between the bows of the wagon. "Abigail! Abigail! Time to—" The Lizard was gone. I relaxed and only then realized how tense I was.
I tried to speak, to smile, to thank him, however strange he behaved, but I only managed a weak rasp. "There," he said, "that should do it. Sleep tight." He pressed his hand on my forehead. I slept.
I woke to Red Bird shaking me. "Time for that bath, little lark," he said, holding his canteen so I could drink a little more. He carried a dark bundle under one arm, and I leaned on the other arm as I stumbled down to the creek. I worried The Lizard might return as soon as I left the wagon, but my mind remained my own.
When we reached the creek, Red Bird dropped the bundle on the bank and unfolded it, revealing black clothes and a little sliver of soap. I gave Red Bird a genuine smile. "I'd stay and watch, little lark," he said, "but..." My smile froze. He shrugged and looked back the way we came.
What sort of company had I fallen into? I was grateful to them for untying me, for getting The Lizard out of my head, and for the clothes and soap. I feared I'd fallen from one wizard's employ to another's.
The creek ran fast and clear. I cupped my hands and drank more. Tears returned to my eyes, and it felt like I might be able to talk again. I washed myself, shivering in the cold water. The new clothes weren't for riding. They were lacy, like what an old woman back east might wear to a funeral. They fit well enough, even if they hung a little loose at the top and the skirt didn't quite reach my ankles. I left the old clothes where they lay.
"It's soup tonight," Black said as I approached the camp. The fire was much too large for cooking. The pot sat off to one side. "Not my first choice, but due to your condition, I recommend soup."
"Soup would be lovely," I managed to whisper, sounding like some poor touched soul with my swollen tongue. There was an odd smell, and I looked in the fire. There was a horse head atop the branches. I stepped back and looked around. Off to one side, the mad horse lay headless. He was, to put it politely, no longer a stallion, and there was a deep gash in his chest.
Black smiled at me again and said, "I believe in giving back. A heart for a heart, a favor for a favor." He ladled some soup into a bowl and handed it to me. "To our benefactor," he said, and favored me with another false smile. Hunger rapidly won over my reluctance. I tried to taste horse flesh, poison, or worse, but the soup tasted only of dried meat, peppers, and corn.
"So sing for us, little lark," Red Bird said when I put the soup down. "Who are you and how did you end up tied to that horse?"
"I'm Abigail Hewitt," I said. "I begged...someone to tie me to the horse to escape."
"Ah, but what were you escaping?" asked Black. "It must have been dreadful."
"I was employed by one Elizabeth. I don't know her surname. She goes by The Lizard."
Black's hand began to shake, and he put his bowl down. He got up and limped around the fire. "The Lizard. The Lizard. That flagitious, insensate, faithless—" He came to sudden stop and then limped back and sat again. "My apologies. Please. How did you end up in her employ?"
I wasn't sure how much to tell. "My brother died. In a duel. I practiced drawing a gun, shooting prairie dogs, rats, and birds. When I thought I had a chance, I challenged the man who killed him. He laughed. The whole saloon laughed. He said he wouldn't fight a woman, that it wouldn't be fair. I turned and started to leave, then I thought about my brother and the other men he'd killed since. Some he killed for the crime of passing him in the street or asking him to pay what he owed. So I turned and shot him three times. In the back."
Neither Black nor Red Bird showed any reaction. "I was waiting for my trial when The Lizard came. She said she wanted to get me out of jail, that the judge was set against me. She said I'd hang, even though I was a woman. But she offered to get me out if I served her. I said yes, and she put her hand on the lock and the door swung open. I knew she was dangerous, but I thought maybe she was a bank robber, not a...a..."
Black tried on another smile. "A wizard? A robber of dreams, childhood, and flesh? Rarely banks. Or trains. Yes, a robber of the gods themselves. The Lizard and I know each other. Indeed, we knew each other at the burning feast, in the stifling darkness, in the frigid wastes where love never..." Black paused, looking up at the stars. He reached into his suit pocket and drew out the moonstone. "That would explain how you ended up with this."
"I promised." I held up my hand then let it drop. "A moon-eyed dwarf gave it to me. He's the one who tied me to the horse. I promised I wouldn't let it fall into a wizard's hands. That was his price for helping me escape."
Black smiled and palmed the moonstone. "And you didn't give it to a wizard. Your word is good, for I took it! A small price to pay for your rescue, wouldn't you agree?" He smiled again, in a way I supposed he meant to be friendly. "This isn't quite enough. You still owe us a little, Abigail. So who was this man you murdered?"
"Albert Wick," I said.
"The Wicker Man?" Red Bird asked.
"Some called him that."
Red Bird bowed to me. "Whatever debt you might have to me is paid and more than paid." He regarded me differently, and I thought I saw tears welling up in his eyes.
Black coughed. "I heard of his death, but I knew nothing of the details. It seems world owes you a favor. Instead, they put you in jail. And they call me wicked!"
Black pointed to the old Murphy. "My wagon, you'll note, has some modifications. Poor shelter in the rain, but under that canopy is...privilege. A different law. We shall all sleep there. It may be uncomfortably cramped, but a few nights under the wire will sever The Lizard's reaching fingers. Tomorrow we can discuss how you might finish repaying me. A favor for a favor. Good night."
I slept well, in spite of the company, and both Black and Red Bird were gentlemen, as much as they could be in the close quarters.
In the morning we had biscuits, jerky, and even bad coffee. "I was heading to Santa Fe to look after some property," Black said between sips, "but with this moonstone, I can correct a mistake. It isn't often one gets a second chance." Black leaned back with his hands on his head. "Last month, Red Bird and I tried to acquire a trunk from a train. I miscalculated. The train became...inaccessible." Black got out the moonstone and held it up to the rising sun. "With this, I can bring the train back. Long enough to get the trunk."
"What's so valuable about this trunk?" I asked.
"It belongs to an antiquarian. It contains relics of a forgotten age. Items that would be useful in my work. I'm telling you this because we need your help."
"What do you need me for?"
"All you'll have to do is carry something like a clock. I shall craft it over the next few days. You'll need to keep it with you and keep it wound up. It may seem like a small role, but it is a crucial one."
Red Bird glared at Black briefly, then shook his head and turned away. I wasn't sure I wanted to get involved with these men, but I also wasn't sure what alternatives Black might come up with for repaying the debt he thought I owed him. "What's my share? If I'm robbing a train with you, I'll want a gun."
"Ah, yes, I expected that," Black said, and he held up a gun belt with a double holster. The right side held a revolver, while the left was empty. "I punched new holes in the belt, so it should fit you."
It fit me well enough. I drew the gun and examined it. It was a Colt Navy Revolver, the same kind of gun I used on Albert Wick. "Thank you," I said. Wearing a gun made me feel a great deal better.
"I will give you a small bag of rounds for it. Special rounds as you'll see. As for your payment," Black continued, "there was a shipment of silver on the train. I command wealth. I never need carry too much of it, and I never lack for it. But you might find a bag of Spanish silver useful."
I thought a bit about my last days with The Lizard and decided to tell Black. "The Lizard wanted that moonstone. She captured the moon-eyed dwarf to get it, and she said something about a collector on a train. I don't know if it's the same—"
"Oh, undoubtedly, undoubtedly. But she'll have to find another moonstone. If she does interfere," Black said, with the first genuine smile I'd seen on his face, "I've been looking forward to seeing her again. On flatter ground."
"I'm in," I said. "After all, I owe you for the rescue."
"Excellent. A favor for a favor. You'll only need to carry the clock and keep it wound. You'll have to be the first to get on the train and the last to leave."
The next day, I woke early. I climbed over Red Bird and out of the wagon without waking either of the men. I noticed it had rained last night, as the ground was muddy, but the wagon, in spite of not having any canvas, was bone dry.
The first light of dawn was just appearing in the east, over what seemed like an endless field of switchgrass. I could start walking, find a small town where no one knew me, start over far from anything unnatural. I took a few hesitant steps away from the wagon.
"I wouldn't, if I were you," Red Bird said. "The oxen, now, they'd be fine if we left them here. Plenty of grass. They can find water. But a little lark? Tsk, tsk. Your odds are better with us."
"I wasn't—"
"I admire honesty in women." He got up and began to make breakfast.
Once we were underway, Red Bird and I walked in front of the wagon while Black sat in it, tinkering with clockworks and wood tools. "Why are you traveling with Black?"
Red Bird said nothing for so long I thought he might be ignoring me. "He owes me," Red Bird said.
"A favor for a favor?"
"No." After another long pause he said, "All his debts will be paid when we reach the train."
"What happened with the train, anyway?"
"I wish I knew, little lark. We approached it and used the device he made. By we I mean myself, Black, and Goliath. The train slowed, almost to a stop. I don't mean...everything in the train was moving slowly. The passengers were still as statues unless we got too close to them. The train turned to fog beneath us and then blew away. Black was furious. I didn't care until I learned..." Red Bird turned away from me and said, almost with a whisper, "I learned someone else was on that train."
"What happened to Goliath? A friend of yours?"
"He wasn't a friendly sort. We left him behind." He turned back towards me with a forced smile. "No more talk about the job, and don't worry. Black will betray you, but I won't let him hurt the little lark who killed The Wicker Man."
"What? What do you mean—"
"Hush, little lark. Everything will be okay."
When we reached the tracks, the moonstone device was ready. Black showed me how to wind it, how the moonstone dropped into a cylinder with a magnet on either side, and how the clockworks moved it in and out of a coil of wire. There was a lever that controlled how fast the cylinder moved. I was supposed to adjust the speed slowly up and down as we walked.
The three of us walked along the tracks as I gave the lever little bumps up and down. I had just moved the lever a tiny bit slower when the train tracks grew a bit foggy. Black saw the change immediately. "Hold it there!" He limped back towards me, his eyes bright, and he kept smirking and then forcing his face to relax. He moved the lever slower, slower, slower and then the train congealed out of the fog.
It wasn't much of a train; only an engine, a tender, a single passenger car, and a single baggage car. Both cars were old and made of cheap wood. I thought the train wasn't moving, but when I looked at the wheels, I could see them turn slightly.
"Hop on up," Black said, gesturing at me. I climbed onto the coupling between the passenger and baggage cars. Red Bird drew his revolver and hopped up next to me. I wondered how Black would get up with his lame leg, but he held his cane limply, then put his other hand palm-down. It looked like he was trying to push himself up on an invisible shelf. He stayed firmly on the ground and then looked up at me. "If you would be so kind, Abigail. Please face that device away from me."
I turned the device, but kept watching him. Repeating the gesture, he floated up, and landed gently right in front of the baggage car door and opened it. Black entered and motioned for us to follow him. I walked in, careful to keep the device pointed to the side. Red Bird came after me and stood in the door.
The baggage car was dark. The only light came from two tiny windows over each side door. There were trunks stacked in the center and shelves along both walls that held canvas sacks. "First things first," Black said, and limped over to one of the sacks. He opened it and showed it to me. Even in the darkness, I could see the glint of silver. "A favor for a favor." He opened a side door and heaved it out.
Black limped back to the stack in the center and pushed a few of the trunks around. He slid out one that looked ancient, elaborately painted with gold flowers and blue birds. If it was smaller, it might have been a lady's hope chest. Black held his hand over the lock again. I heard a click and the trunk opened. "Ah," Black said, pulling out a sort of floppy white hat. I couldn't help but take a few steps forward. Even in the dim light of the baggage car, I saw the hat was made of either big fingernails or little toenails.
He pulled out a dress made of white feathers, a fan of dark green leaves, the head of a shiny silver trident, a smaller wooden box filled with plain-looking rocks, a leather necklace with an enormous tooth, and a white conch shell with gold tips. Black adored them, touching each treasure several times in turn. Then he packed them all back into the trunk. He shoved the trunk out of the side door. I heard it crash on the ground.
"Easy," Black said, picking up his cane. "Come, Red Bird. Jump first, then I'll go."
Red Bird swung me around so I, and the device, was facing Black. "My woman was on this train," Red Bird said. He lifted his revolver and aimed at Black.
Black held up his free hand. "You're not married," he said.
"I didn't say my wife," Red Bird responded. "And I won't let you strand this little lark here. So we need to bring four people back, not two. You know the rules of this place."
"You don't know the price."
"I do. You can pay it."
I wasn't sure what was going on, but I rested my hand on my revolver in case I needed to draw. Black's cane began to wobble as his hands began shaking. "Two lifetimes," he said, "or equivalent ghosts."
"You can afford it."
Black shook his head. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I know we're not leaving Betsy or Abigail here."
"Unless Betsy is...exceptional, she won't be here, either. Abigail? Turn around, and I will handle this delay. Red Bird can take your place. The two of us—"
"See how quickly he betrays me? Who would you trust, little lark?"
I didn't trust either of them, but I didn't turn away from Black. Red Bird and Black looked at one another. Some understanding occurred between them. "We'll have to deal with the passengers," Black said.
Red Bird turned and said, "Nervure-ladden. Oh, Betsy, be strong." I started to scoot over towards the door. "Stop!" Red Bird yelled. "No closer." He lifted his revolver and fired three times. "Now take one step towards me. Keep the device pointed at Black. Good. Another step. Another. Got them."
"When we find this Betsy of yours is no more than a husk," Black said, as he stood, leaning even more heavily on his cane, "we shall leave her. I can pay for one. I can pay for Abigail. Not two. I can't pay for two."
"What are—" I began.
"This place has a price," Red Bird said, still aiming at Black. "Black was going to leave you, the way we left Goliath. Cover him. Keep the moonstone facing him, and he can't work his magic. Now, Black, come up through the door slowly. Abigail, make sure you keep that device facing him. Cover him with your revolver, too."
Black limped over to the door. I drew the Colt as I turned to keep both the gun and the device facing him. "Remember to wind it," he said as he passed. "Bad enough for one of us to get stuck here."
When Black was on the coupling, Red Bird motioned for me to come up behind him. Red Bird was stepping up to the observation deck and the next he was in the doorway, but frozen in place. Black was on the coupling, then frozen like a statue in the middle of pulling himself up to the deck.
Black unfroze and shouted, "Interference! Turn away from me! Do you want to be enspelled again?" I didn't understand him until it was too late. He and Red Bird were frozen in one position, then still as statues in another position with no space between. I sensed more movement and looked up. In the sky was a winged man frozen in midair. Then much closer, but still frozen in place. I could make out that it was a woman, and her wings were not feathers, but steel and canvas. She had a gun drawn and was pointing it at me. I raised and fired my revolver at her.
Then she was gone, and the moonstone device in my hands shattered. It sent splinters on my arm and in my side. Most of the device was still under my arm, but it was no longer running.
The woman stepped up to the edge of the passenger car's roof, enormous canvas wings spread out behind her. I recognized her. The Lizard. "The wonder," she said, "at my age, to be so surprised." I raised my revolver. She turned to face Black, but slightly away from me. She was in my head again, as if she never left. I put my hand down. Red Bird fired at her until his revolver was empty, but the bullets vanished before they reached her.
"Black, a short-tempered stranger, and one of my slaves," The Lizard said.
I stepped back. Black and I spoke at once.
"I was never your slave."
"I never thought I'd be glad to—"
"No," she said, "a slave would have served me better. Have I rescued you again, wizard? You fall further into my debt." The Lizard twisted something on her chest and her wings split in half and fell, too slowly, off the sides of the train. She jumped down right behind Black. There was a faint blue glow on her chest, and I saw it was another moonstone, wrapped about with wires, pulsing with light. "The wise course would be to kill you. But for past considerations, you may run after your treasures."
Black did not hesitate. He leaped off the coupling and landed badly on his lame leg. "Now the three of us are going to move slowly into the passenger car. You will stay in front of me and kill everyone on board except The Collector."
"My," Red Bird stammered, "my...a...a woman I know is on board. Please, let me—"
"The Collector can bring her out," The Lizard said, "if she's not full of vines. Now press on."
The passenger car had benches, wide enough for two people on each side and an aisle between. Most of the benches were empty. The passengers were facing away from us, so all we could see were their backs. They were still as statues.
I saw movement. One of the passengers was reading a newspaper. From the back, he looked like an overweight man in an expensive suit. He was sitting right where a shaft of light from one of the tiny windows came down to his paper. He casually turned a page.
"He's moving," I whispered.
The Lizard said, "Ignore him unless he stands. Shoot the passenger in the back row. One of you will hit. Take your time."
Red Bird and I looked at one another and then took a few steps up, still in range of The Lizard's moonstone. I aimed, but this felt wrong. Shooting Albert Wick was one thing, but here I was shooting men who were frozen and couldn't fight back. "Why do we have to kill—"
The Lizard sighed loudly. "I could force you, but my aim isn't as good." She took a few steps forward. The nearest passenger unfroze. He turned and leaped over the bench and through the air toward us. I aimed and fired, as did Red Bird. One of us hit his chest. Instead of a wound, his body shrunk and twisted, looking as if it was being pulled down a long drainpipe. His arms and legs spun and swirled away last. Before he vanished, I saw a face of melted wax. Long bulges pulsed under his arms, and at the sides of his neck. Instead of fingers, he had long, wriggling tendrils that looked more like vines than flesh.
"Special loads," Red Bird said. "They're not men anymore, little lark. No need to weep over them. We should reload after each row, in case we miss."
We repeated the same steps for the next two rows. Both of us fired at each passenger, our bullets not quite reaching them, but hanging in midair. The Lizard stepped up, our bullets unfroze, and the passengers were each sucked down a drainpipe.
"That is Betsy," Red Bird said, pointing at the only woman on board. "Shoot the one on the right, but leave her."
When The Lizard stepped up, Betsy turned her head halfway towards us. "Betsy!" Red Bird cried out and ran up to her. He knelt next to the bench and put a hand in her lap. She faced him the entire time, but her face remained still. Her eyes were dead. Red Bird put his head in her lap and seemed to be crying.
"More work for you," The Lizard said. "Next row. Move up."
I shot the passenger on the left. I had to step between the benches to avoid hitting Red Bird and Betsy. On the right in this row was the man with the newspaper. I pointed my gun at him. "Should I?"
"Don't bother," The Lizard said, stepping up. "Next row."
We cleared the passenger car. Now it was just me, The Lizard, Red Bird, and Betsy. I reloaded my revolver again and holstered it. The Lizard stepped up to the man with the newspaper, drew a gun of her own, and aimed it at his head. "Get up," she said.
He didn't look up from his paper. I was close enough now that I could read the headlines, but they were not English. They weren't even the right alphabet. "I am not one to obey, but to be obeyed," he said with a foreign accent I couldn't place.
I turned to Red Bird and Betsy. She was still seated primly on the bench with her hands in her lap. It didn't seem as if she'd moved, apart from turning her head. Red Bird had his hand on top of hers, but her fingers were long, terribly long, and had grown twisted around each other. I didn't think she could pull her hands apart.
Red Bird stopped sobbing and looked up at her. He said something to her in another language, and she lifted her hands out of her lap, still clasped together, and put them over his head. He got up partway and leaned towards her. As they kissed, her fingers began growing down his back and around his neck.
"Lizard," I said, "uh, there's—"
"Unimportant. We'll be gone before she's done." She pointed her gun at the man again. "You. Collector. Get up!"
"I prefer to stay here. No wizards. No treasure hunters. No fools." He folded up the paper and sat it gently on the bench beside him.
The Lizard poked him with the gun again. "Do you know what sort of bullets I have?"
"I can smell them, of course."
"Then get up if you want to live. I prefer cooperation, but I'll—"
He raised a hand suddenly and The Lizard jumped back. "So skittish? You know I am powerless with that moonstone pointed at me." Then he rose to his feet, faster than I expected with such a heavy frame. He grabbed The Lizard's gun arm and spun her around to face me. She fired as she spun, down the aisle of the passenger car, hitting nothing.
As soon as the moonstone faced me directly, I was free again. Just like I practiced for Albert Wick, I drew the revolver and fired three times. One in her gut, one in her chest above the moonstone, and one under her chin. Blood splattered over the man, the bench, and the newspaper. The Lizard crumpled to the floor.
The man dabbed at the blood on his suit and said, "Perhaps I could trouble you for a little favor?"
"I...what?" I stared down at The Lizard. She wouldn't trouble me again. I could jump off the train, hide from Black if he was still out there, and follow the tracks to Santa Fe.
The man picked up his paper, sat down, and opened it. He shook it and the blood was gone—not only from the pages, but from his suit and his bench. "I'd put that revolver away and start moving your moonstone manually. The Lizard's stone is fading. You don't want to get stuck here, do you? Besides, I'd like you to deliver something for me."
I holstered the revolver and looked at the ruined clockwork device. The moonstone and the two cylinders were still intact. I grabbed part of the arm sticking out and began to move it back and forth. The interference, as Black called it, started again. The Collector's position and the page of his newspaper moved suddenly several times. Then the train began to fade out.
"Just a little faster, if you would," he said. I sped up the cylinder a little and the train was solid again. "Good, good. Keep that as steady as you can. And try to do it one-handed. The young Johansen will be returning with the trunk, soon."
"Who?"
"I believe you knew him as Black."
I looked toward the back of the train. "He should be long gone by now."
"Johansen tried to steal from me before. I made sure he failed, but now he comes back. Tsk. He won't leave this place again. He knows the rules, but not how easily I bend them."
Black, or at least someone in Black's clothing, came into the passenger car, carrying the trunk with birds and flowers. He was no longer limping, but his head was missing. Dark blue tendrils that emerged from his collar.
He dropped the trunk. "Thank you, Johansen," the Collector said. "Bring her the rocks and the hat."
Black opened the trunk and drew out the hat made of fingernails and the wooden box of rocks. He walked up slowly and held them out to me, one in each hand. I wedged the moonstone device under my arm so that I could move the cylinder with one arm and hold something with the other.
"Of course you could just leave," The Collector said. "You've dreamed of a normal life, finding a little town, changing your name, marrying some farmer. The bag of silver is still out there. But if that's not enough, take the gifts."
It was tricky to hold the moonstone device under my arm and move it with the same hand, but I kept it steady as I shifted it over. I took the hat and draped it over my arm. Then I took the box.
The Collector nodded. "As I expected. But I must request, never insist. When you get to Santa Fe, ask for Sandtooth. Give him the rocks. The hat is yours. When you wear it, no man can see you. Watch out for animals."
He went back to his newspaper. I worked the moonstone device and watched The Collector and what was left of Black. I turned to see what Red Bird and Betsy were doing, and quickly turned away.
My arm was getting tired. I walked back out the passenger car, carefully stepped down to the coupling, and jumped off.
I hit the ground hard. The box, hat, and moonstone device fell out of my hands. The clockwork guts spread across the ground. I lay there and closed my eyes, shaking my head slowly side to side.
The Lizard was dead, and I was free. Better, I was rich. I sat up and, with trembling hands, pulled the worst splinters from my arms and hands. I cried a little, and not from the splinters. I stood carefully, as I felt weak and dizzy.
If I left the box and hat here, maybe I could take the silver and make a new life. The silver might attract trouble, but the hat and box would attract a different kind of trouble. I wasn't ready to face another wizard, but I was too curious, too restless to let it go. My dream of finding a small town and settling down blew away.
I took the moonstone cylinder out of the ruins and slipped it into a pocket. The box of rocks was open, but intact. I crawled over to it and scooped all the rocks back inside. I picked up the box and the hat and started walking down the tracks.
The oxen were grazing in the distance next to the uncovered wagon. It would take me to Santa Fe.