The man with no name looked at the warrant card in his hand. He looked at the

houses clustered together until they resembled one big ramshackle house. He put the

card away.

He doubted the residents would want to talk to him. He represented some kind of

authority. And authority was best avoided at even the best of times. Anyone he

grabbed would play dumb, or lie so that he would move on down a false trail.

He spotted some kids playing with a ball. He rode up to them. The older ones ran. He

snagged a young boy by the back of his shirt before the child could flee. He held the

boy up so they could see eye to eye.

“How do you do?,” said the dead man. “I’m looking for Canterwell Court. Do you

know where it is?”

“It’s three houses down, one house over, then across the courtyard,” said the boy. He

tried to point, but swivelled in the grip of the gunfighter. His shirt bunched up to try

to choke him.

“Let’s go over and have a look around,” said the man with no name. He urged Stupid

forward, and pulled the boy along as the horse ambled toward their destination.

The directions were good. The dead man smiled when he saw a sign pointing him the

rest of the way. He dropped the boy to the ground and tossed him a coin.

“You better run,” said the man with no name. “You don’t want to be around when I

go up to ask my questions.”

The urchin tucked the coin away and ran at full speed from the coming confrontation.

He didn’t look back.

Stupid carried his rider up to the circle of houses that made up Canterwell Court.

Numerous eyes glared at the stranger as he approached the one house he wanted. He

looked around as he dismounted.

He didn’t want to kill anyone who wasn’t being served, but if they gave him no

choice, some of the people around him would join his target. He couldn’t turn aside

from the task he had been given. And he didn’t want to turn aside.

He had been given a hundred names to a hundred people in the black cards he carried.

Everyone he had tracked down so far had been doing things they knew were wrong,

or damaging to the people around them. Everyone he took made the world safer in his

opinion.

And he didn’t think he was about to meet the exception to the rule.

The man with no name went to the door of the place he wanted. It was crammed

between two other houses. He felt the buzz of wards kick in as he stood on the porch.

Something nasty would happen if he tried to force his way inside unless he shut the

buzzing off.

He flung his poncho out of the way so he could pull his guns. He knocked on the

door. He listened. He glanced at the crowd coming nearer. He eyed the ragged men

and women as he knocked on the door again.

How many would he have to kill in the next few seconds?

“Ben Carriff, come on out,” said the man with no name. “I have a warrant I need to

serve.”

Silence answered his request. He looked at the crowd. Some of them had armed

themselves with pipes and knives. They drew closer.

“The Sharriff isn’t home,” said one of the men. He looked at the crowd for strength.

“Why don’t you clear out? We don’t recognize any authority but the Sharriff’s.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where he is?,” said the man with no name. “I have a

job to do, and I need to find him so I can do my job.”

“Why should we tell you anything?,” said the spokesman. He scanned the crowd,

drawing confidence in their numbers.

“Because I will kill anyone that so much as raises a hand,” said the man with no

name. “I’m going to take your word that Carriff isn’t here. Tell him I’m looking for

him. When I find him, he’ll get what he deserves.”

“You don’t get to make threats,” said the spokesman. He held up an arm to include

all of the people with him. “This is our neighborhood. We make the threats here.”

The man with no name looked at the crowd. He straightened his hat. One hand dipped

down. Flame ate the air as it roared across the space between him and his target. The

spokesman looked down at the part of a pipe he held. The metal glowed from the

impact.

“I’m only here for Carriff,” said the dead man. The muzzle of the gun tracked across

the front of the crowd. “I could care less about the rest of you. Don’t make me care

about you.”

The crowd started to break across the front as some of the people realized what would

happen if one of those lances of flame actually touched them. None of the smarter

ones wanted to have a hole in the middle of their bodies.

The man with no name edged down to where Stupid waited. The horse had decided

to crop the grass until it was needed to do something. One ear flicked back and forth.

Anyone getting behind the animal was going to have a bad day.

The dead man swung up in his saddle. He held his firearm close to his body as he

urged Stupid to start walking. The crowd parted to let him go.

He holstered the weapon when he was clear. He shook his head. It looked like his

target was the head of the neighborhood watch. How did he get around that?

He admitted subterfuge wasn’t his strong point. He preferred direct methods to solve

his problems. Burning that part of the city down didn’t seem the best way to get

things done.

And he didn’t want to kill everyone in his way. He didn’t know how that would

look on his conscience while he was trying to serve the rest of his warrants.

“Let’s look for an inn so I can think about what I should do about this,” said the

dead man. “Maybe something will present itself. If it doesn’t, we can try for one

of the others that are nearby.”

Stupid flicked his ears. He lifted his head and looked around. He turned and headed

down the street out of the neighborhood of shacks to a better neighborhood of brick

and glass. He sniffed the air and carried his rider to an inn with his ambling walk.

“The Lionfish?,” said the man with no name. He eased his hat back. “You want

some oats before I go in?”

The horse snorted an affirmative, stomping his foot. Oats would be good.

The dead man slid out of the saddle. He reached in the saddlebag and pulled out

a cloth bucket. He halfway filled the bucket with oats from a bag. He pushed the strap

over Stupid’s head so the horse could eat in peace.

“Don’t go anywhere,” said the dead man. “I’m just getting one drink, and then we’re

moving on.”

The man with no name entered the inn. The locals glared at him from their tables, but

said nothing. He nodded as he walked to the bar. He took an empty place at the end.

He waited for the tender to come down to take his order.

He looked around. The people seemed okay, a little prosperous from the look of their

clothes. They slowly went back to their conversations. He supposed they didn’t see

many strangers in that part of town.

The tender finally walked down to talk to the stranger. He wiped his wide hands on

a towel. The towel went over his shoulder. Beady eyes glared at his newest customer.

“What can I do for you?,” asked the tender. His graying hair looked like a spider on

the top of his head. Tiny scars on his face revealed themselves when he stood close.

“I just want a beer, and directions to Elzay Tower,” said the man with no name.

“Hold on,” said the tender. He retreated down the bar. He returned with a bottle, and

a glass. He popped the top of the bottle and poured the beer in the glass. He placed

the glass down in front of his customer.

“The Elsi is across the bridge on the north side,” said the tender. He pointed in the

direction he meant. “You can take the train to get over there from here.”

“Sounds easy,” said the man with no name. He sipped his beer. “Is it a landmark?”

“Yes,” said the tender. “Supposedly some witches and monsters started fighting with

the Alvas there. The only thing left over from the battle is the tower. It looks like a

tree made of stone.”

“Thanks,” said the dead man. “That’s really helpful.”

“It’s not a problem,” said the tender. “Do you want another beer?”

“No,” said the dead man. He finished his beer and put a silver on the bar. He started

for the door.

The Elzay Tower was on one of the cards he carried. Scoping it out might give

him a lead on a target not surrounded by a mob. Then he could get back to work.

Warrants weren’t going to serve themselves. He smiled at that. Maybe they could

if he knew the right spell to put on them.

The man with no name walked over to his horse. The animal flicked an ear at him

as he munched on the oats in the feed bag.

“We’re going north to see if we can find a stone tree,” said the dead man. He climbed

up in the saddle. “You can eat while we go.”

Stupid ambled away from the inn and made his slow way across town. They didn’t

need speed yet. That would come later when they were chasing some villain who

wanted to set a poor riding animal on fire.

Or when they were chasing someone who didn’t want to be set on fire.

The man with no name kept his eyes moving. Someone from the crowd might be

following him. Maybe one of his targets had enough magical strength to keep an

eye on him. Maybe something random was going to get in his way. He wanted to

be ready no matter what happened.

He patted Stupid’s neck as the horse carried him along. The beast’s gentle nature

and slow moving said he wasn’t as dangerous as his rider. Some people had found

out the hard way that wasn’t true.

The strange pair paused when they made it to the Elzay Tower. A tree turned to stone

stood in the middle of a park for the city. Nests for birds covered the upper branches.

The man with no name slid off his horse. He took the feed bag off and cleaned it with

water from his canteen. He put it back in the saddle bag.

He wanted Stupid ready to bite if he had to bite someone.

The dead man pulled out his cards. He flipped through them until he found the one

he wanted. He saw a sliver of blue running through the card. The target was here.

All he had to do was find him, or her.

He started toward the tower. He looked up at the branches. He supposed someone

could live up there if they could climb the stone trunk.

He decided to circle and see if he could find his quarry in the park. That seemed safer

than trying to climb the tower and seeing if the target was up there above the city.

If he had to head up to the sky, he would. He couldn’t turn away from another target

after missing one.

He drifted along, holding the card in his hand. He stopped when it glowed blue in

his hand. He saw the flash from the corner of his eye, then a closer look said the

warrant was close enough to touch the person who was supposed to receive it.

He looked at the people walking around him. Which one was supposed to be served

the card?