House of Midas

by Chloe Garner

  “We’re looking for a place to stay tonight,” Starn said again.

  “You have money?” he asked.

  “Some,” she said.

  The man eyed Palk and Starn.

  “You wanderers?”

  “Yes,” Starn said. He nodded.

  “You drink?”

  “Don’t think so,” Palk said. The man nodded.

  “Looking for work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “One of my waitresses got married today. Met the guy yesterday, sends her friend in today to tell me she’s not coming back. All the rooms are taken, but you can have her room and I’ll pay you three Kennar if you’ll fill in for tonight and tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to be a waitress for more than a couple of days,” Starn said. The man shrugged.

  “No one does, but then they start getting the tips during the hot season, and they forget to look for anything else. You do what you like, but that’s the offer.”

  Starn shook her head.

  “No, I’m happy to do it. Just don’t want you counting on me to stick around for very long.”

  “There’s always someone else I can pay to do the work,” the man said. “Go see Elza for an apron and a menu.”

  Starn glanced at Palk and winked, then went in the direction the man had indicated. He left, ignoring Palk, to go back to the bar.

  Palk watched after Starn for a minute, then followed the bartender back into the main room.

  The place was packed with men drinking and talking to each other. Some of them were green, of the same species as Whalk, but there were many more, none of them as pale as Palk and Starn were.

  Palk found a seat in a corner and put his feet up on a table to watch, learning the way the animal-herders related to each other, how the temper flareups happened and were put to rest, how the men behaved.

  “You waiting for someone?” someone asked. Palk looked up to find a deep-blue skinned man standing with his hand on the back of a chair.

  “Nope,” Palk said, shifting his feet over.

  “Which ranch are you with?” the man asked as he sat. Palk shook his head.

  “I’m not,” he said. “Looking for one.”

  The other man nodded.

  “Good time to do it. A lot of the guys will be quitting this week, taking the train back in and trying to make good on whatever little bit of scratch they’ve managed to put together.”

  Palk looked at the man and gave him a little nod.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re a big dude,” the man said after a minute. Palk grinned to himself.

  “Apparently.”

  “You good at throwing stilth?”

  “Don’t know,” he said. “Don’t know what that is.”

  The blue man sat forward.

  “You’re a wanderer? Or just a city boy?”

  “Wanderer,” Palk said, jerking his head at Starn as she came out of the kitchen. “I’m here with her, looking to start a life.”

  “Hell, man,” the blue man said, sitting back again. “Every time I meet one of you guys, I get a chill. She’s pretty enough, though.”

  “Yeah,” Palk said.

  “You staying here, then?” the man asked him. Palk shook his head.

  “Just getting room and board,” he answered. “Just got off the train. Want to pick up a job at one of the ranches.”

  The blue man nodded.

  “You’re a big dude,” he said again. “Be good at throwing stilth.”

  He put his arm in the air, summoning Starn, who took his order without glancing at Palk and continued on her way. The blue man laughed.

  “You sure you’re together?” he asked.

  “No doubt at all,” Palk answered. The man nodded to himself. “So who are the ranches out here?” Palk asked.

  “There are five big ones, the Garps, the Plangows, the Riches, the Tiedmonts, and the Dandys. I’m a Dandy boy, myself. Those five own probably three quarters of the grazing land in the district. After that, you’re looking at another dozen or so smaller ranches. Outfits that kinda come and go as someone gets the bug to go ranching and buys out the last guy who went broke. The boys end up staying there longer than the owners do, a lot of them.”

  Palk nodded.

  “Where would you go, if you got to choose?”

  The man laughed.

  “Hell, man, we’re all just happy to have coins in our pocket at the end of the day. Choose.”

  He shook his head and Palk shrugged.

  “You said they’re going to be looking.”

  “And there are plenty of fresh-faced dudes running around, looking just as hard,” the man said. “You take it from me. Someone offers you a job? You take it.”

  “Which one?” Palk asked. “If you got to choose.”

  The blue man sighed at him, taking his drink from Starn with perhaps more familiarity than was necessary for Palk’s sake, then leaned back in his chair.

  “Depends, I guess,” he said. “The Dandys are good folk. Treat you right, if you show up and do your job. Don’t hardly fire anyone unless they got to. I know a few of the Garp boys, the family boys, mind you, and they’s tough guys. Like to prove it, too. Don’t know what it’s like, working for them, but they don’t take no stuff from no one. Plangows keep to themselves. Their boys do, too. Been here longer than anyone, I think, and know the way it goes. Lotta boys wish they were working for the Riches. Good money there, if you can get it, but they fire you for nothing, man. Beat some of their boys, too, just to make a point. Tiedmonts, are okay. All of ‘em have been doing this long enough to know what they’re doing, see, but the Tiedmonts have a knack to it. Always bring in more animals than anyone, and they say that the Tiedmont herds are the biggest in the region.”

  “You wouldn’t go with one of the smaller outfits?” Palk asked.

  “Hell, no, boy,” the blue man said. “Work for those greenhorns? Not on your life. They get people killed.”

  “I see,” Palk said. Someone bumped into the table and issued a loud greeting to the blue man, who stood to talk to the new arrival. They wandered off a moment later, and Palk resettled his feet again.

  He went through the bits he’d gotten, sorting them, trying to pull all of the meaning out of them that he could, given his limited background to compare them against. Something about the family that knew what they were doing appealed to him. He wanted to make enough money for them to do something else if they wanted to, sure, but he had an idea that an authoritarian, centralized control would rub him the wrong way. He didn’t want to risk a conflict with an employer in an area where there were this few of them to pick from. No doubt they talked to each other often enough to know when there were troublemakers around and, looking around the room, avoiding troublemakers was hard enough as it was.

  Palk stood and switched tables.

  “Sorry, Plangows only,” the gray-skinned man who noticed him said, pulling his glass in a bit closer.

  “Didn’t know,” Palk said, moving again.

  He circled the room a few times, that evening, talking to everyone he could, getting the best picture he could get of each of the ranching families, but he never did find any Tiedmonts. Finally, he asked why.

  “Tiedmonts don’t get paid until they get home,” a drunk Garp boy said. “Everyone else gets paid when they get here, and they come into town for a good time.”

  “Why not?” Palk asked. Another man, drunker than the first, leaned over and answered loudly.

  “Cause they think it’s better for you to go home with your money than to drink it. I says the drinking’s good here. May as well enjoy it.”

  There was a round of agreement from the table and Palk nodded.

  The room was getting less civilized as the hours crept on toward dawn, and Palk was tired. He went to the bar, waiting for the tender to notice him.

  “How late do you stay open?” he asked.

  “Light,” the bartender answered. “You looking to duck out?”


  Palk thought about it, scanning the room for Starn. She was bending over a table full of rowdy, drunk men, handing out drinks while another waitress held a second tray of them.

  “I guess I’ll stay,” Palk said. The bartender put his hand on the bar, giving Palk an intent look.

  “Advice? From an older fella, because you’re a wanderer?”

  Palk nodded.

  “Sure.”

  “She can take care of herself. I’ve met all kinds, and she’s the kind that tends to not be on the wrong end of trouble, if you know what I mean. Not only that, she’s the kind who isn’t going to take it lightly, you acting like she needs you to look out for her. Me, I see you doing the honorable thing, keeping an eye out for a lady, but she’s just going to see someone who doesn’t take her at full value. You get me?”

  Palk nodded.

  “Yeah. I guess I could use some quiet. Hey. If you were looking to join one of the ranches, which one would you pick?”

  The bartender watched the room thoughtfully with the air of a man who had never once considered giving up what he’d fought for.

  “You’ve got pluck, thinking you might get to pick, but I’d go with Tiedmont or Dandy. I know the ranchers, myself, and those are the men I trust to see their lot through the biggest storms.”

  “Thanks,” Palk said.

  “Cindra’s room is through that door, down the hallway, turn right, and it’s the door under the stairs,” the bartender said. “She should have cleaned it out this morning or last night, but if there’s anything still there and in the way, just move it. I won’t throw it out for a few days, in case she comes for it.”

  “Thanks again,” Palk said, following the bartender’s instructions.

  The room was windowless and it took him a few minutes to figure out how to turn up the flow of fuel to the lamp so that he could see it. It wasn’t dirty, but it was worn, it showed everywhere. Cindra still had some clothes and a few personal items lying around the room, but it was clear she had been here and packed most of the important things. The bed was made, Palk assumed that the bedding belonged to the inn, and the rug on the floor was where it belonged, and those two things combined were inviting in a way that surprised Palk.

  It was almost homey. He didn’t know what home should look like, but certainly this wasn’t a bad example.

  He sat down on the bed and took his shoes off, looking around the room quietly. He could still hear the rowdiness from the main room, but it was far enough away that it didn’t really bother him. There was a mirror on the wall, over there, and he stood to go look in it, finding a stranger looking back at him.

  It was cold, how he recognized Starn more readily than he recognized himself. He had pale skin. He knew that from his hands. But to see it on his face was stark, familiar in a way that all of the faces out at the bar weren’t, but at the same time foreign and strange by comparison to every single memory he had.

  Every single one.

  He pulled his face around, feeling how the expressions looked, and having the same sense that if he worked at this too hard, he was going to forget how to have natural expressions as he talked.

  Maybe that wasn’t so bad. Starn couldn’t read him then, he thought.

  Maybe.

  The only other furniture in the room was a solid wood chest. He opened it, finding more bedding but not much else of note, so he put the lid back down and went around the room, collecting Cindra’s remaining belongings and putting them on the small desk under the mirror.

  In case she came back.

  He would spend one night here, maybe two, and then it would be someone else’s home, just a memory for him. One of very few.

  It would be his home for a very long time, in that sense.

  He sat back down on the bed, then, realizing how tired he really was, he lay down and let his eyes close, just resting until Starn finished work.

  *********

  He woke at the sound of the door opening.

  “You get any sleep?” she asked quietly as he sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes.

  “A little. I think. What time is it?”

  “It’s bright out,” she said. “Still early, but fully light.”

  He nodded, rubbing his face again. He hadn’t gotten anywhere near enough sleep, but it would have to be enough.

  “I need to go see…” he shook his head, muddling through the waking up phase. “I need to go see a guy.”

  “Which one?” she asked. He frowned, trying to remember the name.

  “Tiedmont,” he said. She shook her head, standing in front of the mirror and shaking her hair out.

  “Didn’t hear that name go by,” she said. Palk turned to put his feet on the floor, finding his shoes and bending over, sore, to put them on.

  “You wouldn’t. They don’t have much money to spend in town. They don’t get paid until they get home.”

  “Smart,” Starn said. “How are you going to convince them to hire you?”

  He stood and smiled.

  “Sparkling wit,” he said. She shook her head, stretching.

  “Make sure you have a plan,” she said. “There are a lot of hungry young men here, looking for a few seasons of work.”

  “How did you do?” Palk asked. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a veritable handful of coins.

  “Don’t get excited,” she said. “They’re mostly fractional coins, but it’s more than Whalk paid both of us combined for the two days. The boys tip well when they’re drunk, but it won’t last. We need a better plan for after this week.”

  “You think you want to stay all week?” he asked. She shook her head.

  “I’ll do this for as long as we need to, and then when it’s time to move on, we’ll move on.” She yawned. “Honestly, I feel a little bad. It’s too easy, taking their money. Every single one of them tells me exactly what he wants from me, just there on his face. All I have to do is give it to him, and he gives me money.”

  “That’s prostitution,” Palk said, surprised at his ability to come up with the word. She laughed.

  “It would be if any of them got sex,” she said. “This is just good customer service.”

  He looked in the mirror again.

  “Did you eat?” he asked.

  “Going to bed,” she murmured, laying down. He watched her fall asleep, then straightened his clothes and left the room, going back out to the main room.

  The bartender was still there, counting money and bottles and a few other things.

  “You headed out already?” the man asked. Palk nodded.

  “Don’t want to miss any opportunities because I was asleep,” he answered.

  “Good man,” the bartender said. “Go ask the cook if we have any bread. If there’s any left over from yesterday, it’s yours.”

  “Thanks,” Palk said, finding the purple-skinned woman in the kitchen. She gave him a small bag of goods, making him promise to return the bag, and he left, standing in the road in front of the tavern for a minute, looking up at the vast herds of livestock on the hillsides.

  It had been too dark to see them, the night before, by the time they’d left the train. Today, he could see the dotted shapes of animals as far as the grass went, cresting over the hill and into the next valley. Here and there, there were larger clusters of dark spots, presumably tents or other constructions there for the people to use.

  The animal handlers had all gone back to their camps, and Transit was almost completely empty. A woman was out front of her store, sweeping, as Palk went by, and he paused.

  “Do you know where the Tiedmonts are camped?” he asked. She pointed in a vague direction, continuing with her work without ever looking at him. Palk put his hands in his pockets and set off.

  It was a long walk, up into the hills far enough that the ranches could still keep their livestock separate, and he passed few people.

  Finally, someone stopped him.

  “Don’t know you,” the green man said.

  “No
pe,” Palk answered. “Looking for Tiedmont.”

  “You found us,” the man answered. Palk shook his head.

  “No. The Tiedmont.”

  The man gave him a quick, evaluating glance.

  “You aren’t important enough for him to talk to you.”

  “I want a job,” Palk said. The green man looked at him longer this time.

  “You want to talk to Gamm, then,” he said. “He manages the boys.”

  “All right,” Palk said. The green man shook his head.

  “Gamm won’t like you just showing up.”

  “Is there any other way?”

  There was a sly mouth motion that implied a dark humor.

  “Most of us have our jobs because we know someone. Not often a stranger gets a job with the Tiedmonts.”

  “Maybe I’ll be one of them.”

  The green man gave him a dismissive little motion.

  “Your morning to waste. You’ll find him in the tent at the top of the hill. Ask for him. One of the boys can take you in to see him.”

  Palk nodded and kept on.

  The swarms of animals were getting thicker, and Palk had to walk carefully, a few times, to avoid getting charged by one of the dark purple, furry creatures. They were just as cagey here as they’d been on the platform, and he still liked them for it.

  He got more odd looks from the animal handlers as he went, but walking with purpose, no one spoke to him again until he came in sight of the tents.

  “Oy,” someone called. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to Gamm,” Palk said, turning to find a much larger green man on a path to intercept him.

  “Gamm’s at his breakfast,” the man said. “I let you in now, he tells you no, and he busts me back down to fleecing taims.”

  Palk nodded, holding up his bag.

  “I have food, if you can show me where I should sit and eat while I wait.”

  “Chow tent’s over here,” the man said. “I’ll sit with you.”

  They went a little way away, to where a large tent was set up with rough planks of wood for tables. The green man got a bowl of something salty-smelling and came to sit next to Palk.

  “Where you from, friend?” the man asked.