I blinked in the sudden darkness of the room and stood still, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I was glad that I did a moment later, as I probably would have tumbled down the two steps leading into the room beyond otherwise. I stepped down the stairs, noticing that the floor beneath my boots was hard-packed dirt rather than wood, and looked around the room I assumed was the sheriff’s office.

The space was smaller than I’d imagined it might be. The room was maybe fifteen feet deep and ten across. One wall had a gun rack with a pair of gleaming rifles and a shotgun resting on it, all chained to the wall and secured with a padlock that looked to be steel. A wide safe four feet long and two high nestled below the guns with a real combination lock. The wall opposite the weapons was covered with posters that I assumed were wanted posters, considering that most of them had what looked like charcoal sketches of faces on them with a bunch of fancy, flowery script beneath that Sara still couldn’t quite decode. A simple door in the back wall either led deeper into the office or out the back – I didn’t know if this place also served as a jail, or a courthouse, or even the sheriff’s home, or if it was just somewhere people could find him during the day – and a black, potbellied stove occupied the corner across from me, its grating cold and dark.

The sheriff walked over to a poorly built desk that occupied the middle of the room and sat down. He pulled out a leather folder and flipped it open, then indicated a wooden stool in front of the desk.

“Take a seat,” he instructed, and I obediently if hesitantly sat on the coarse, unpolished wood of the wobbly stool. It rocked from side to side, suggesting that either the legs were cut unevenly or the dirt beneath wasn’t level, and a splinter stabbed into my ass with a sharp pain that I ignored.

“You’re new in town,” he said in his laid-back voice, not looking at me as he flipped through the folder, then glanced up at the wall. “Any outstanding bounties I should know about?”

“Nope,” I shook my head, fairly certain that no one in this world had yet put a bounty on my head – and equally sure that it would probably happen at some point, considering my luck.

“Let’s hope so,” he replied. He glanced up at me. “If you think of any, though, you be sure to tell me. If a bounty’s declared, and a detective comes around, it can be settled with a legal duel. If it’s undeclared, the detective’s got free rein to take you however they want, and I can’t interfere. Got it?” I nodded, and he looked back down at his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper.

“Name?” he asked.

“I haven’t heard any names, John, so I can’t give you any suggestions,” Sara said helplessly.

“I’d rather not give one, if that’s okay,” I replied slowly.

He looked up at me, his eyes narrowing. “And you say you’ve got no bounties on you?”

“No bounties, no,” I assured him. “I just…” I hesitated. This world seemed a lot like the American Old West, but I didn’t know how much of that culture carried over. I mentally crossed my fingers and took a gamble. “I came out here trying to make a new name for myself, is all. I’m trying to get rid of my old one – too many bad memories.”

He grunted and looked back down at the paper. “That’s fine. I’ll just call you Naasi, then. It’ll do as well as anything.” He pulled out a charcoal pencil and began scratching on the paper with it.

“It’s a word in the local language, John,” Sara explained. “It means something like ‘beginner’ or ‘newcomer’.”

“Or ‘tenderfoot’,” I suggested.

“Judging from the context of your thoughts, yes, that’s exactly it.”

“What path have you chosen?” he asked. “And what’s your current rank?”

“I – I haven’t chosen one,” I replied, not sure what he meant but assuming he was talking about the three professions I’d seen earlier. “Sorry.”

He looked up at me, his eyes hard. “Wait, you really are a naasi? A brand-new handler?” He snorted. “And you thought coming out here to the Gistal would be the smart way to learn? What the hell is wrong with you, boy?”

I remained silent since I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t highlight my lack of knowledge.

He shook his head and put down the paper, gazing at me with hard eyes. “Let me guess,” he said scornfully. “You grew up out east in Na Jhauta, right? Son of a merchant, I’d guess – or maybe a noble who’s got more money than family name.” He leaned back. “You aren’t going to inherit, so you thought you’d try your hand at being a handler and decided to come out here and make a name for yourself so you could go back east and demand top-price for your services. Am I right?”

I thought quickly as he spoke, processing what he said but also trying to work out what it meant for the culture of this place. He assumed I came from wealth, which meant that something about my appearance suggested it, and trying to pretend I didn’t would require me to make up a story that explained that incongruity – hard to do when I couldn’t be sure what it even was. He talked about coming from “out east”, which suggested that the eastern parts of this continent, or world, or whatever were more settled and civilized than where I was now. And he seemed doubtful of my plans, meaning people probably tried to do what he suggested – and often failed.

“Close enough,” I finally shrugged. “Although I don’t have all my hopes set on being a handler. I know it’s not something everyone can do, but I’m also a hand with firearms, knives, and axes – and an okay sailor, scholar, and investigator – so if it doesn’t work out, I’ve got options.”

The sheriff nodded, his eyes faintly respectful. “Well, boy, at least you’ve got sense enough to plan for the worst – and the likeliest.” He leaned back. “You got a place to stay? Money?”

“No and no,” I shrugged. “I came into town with exactly what you see, nothing more.”

“Figures,” he rolled his eyes. He slid open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a worn, battered revolver. “You say you can use one of these?” he asked.

“I can,” I nodded confidently.

“Show me,” he said, tossing the pistol my way. I caught it a bit awkwardly, still unused to my new body, but I quickly adjusted my grip and settled it into my palm. I hefted the gun, feeling the weight – it was a little front-heavy, but that might help if it used black powder charges and heavy slugs instead of smokeless powder – then thumbed the switch to drop the cylinder out to the side. I pulled it off and examined it, noting the worn grooves where it didn’t quite rotate smoothly, then sighted down the barrel before replacing the cylinder and giving it a spin. I slipped it back into place and cocked it, listening as it caught slightly during the rotation. I pulled the trigger, which traveled too far before the hammer tripped.

“Barrel’s off,” I noted. “Not much, but enough that it’ll reduce the muzzle velocity and increase the recoil. The cylinder doesn’t quite rotate cleanly, and the trigger’s got too much creep and some stacking. It won’t fire as accurately as it should, and until you get used to it, you’ll fire slowly.”

He nodded. “Well, you know your guns,” he admitted. “I confiscated that piece off a detective who thought he could sweep into town, claim his bounty in the middle of the saloon, and not give a good damn who he hurt in the process.”

“What happened to him?” I asked curiously.

“Old Parri out there happened,” he said shortly, pointing toward the door behind me. “See, boy, Murkburg is a law-abiding town. Oh, we don’t follow the Sarjan Code the way they do back in Na Jhauta, but we have a charter of laws, and I make sure everyone follows them. One of those laws is no unsanctioned duels. Anyone who sets a pet on another person without my say-so becomes a snack for Parri, no two ways about it.”

He leaned back. “We don’t have judges out here, you see. No courtrooms, and no trials like they do out in someplace like Takiha or Dagadi. I’m all the law there is. Someone’s guilty when I say they’re guilty, and that’s all there is to it.” I did my best to conceal a frown; that sort of absolute authority seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Despite my efforts, though, he must have noticed my concern.

“That bothers you,” he nodded. “Good. It should.”

“It should?” I echoed.

“Of course. It bothers the hell out of me.” He shrugged. “I’m just a man, Naasi. I make mistakes, same as any other man. That’s why I try to err on the side of caution. I’d rather give someone a whipping or ride them out of town than kill them; I can’t exactly apologize to a dead man, after all.”

He spit once more, again tagging the spittoon perfectly. “Like I said, this is a law-abiding town, and everyone in it earns their keep. If you want to stay here, you’ll need to do the same, and there’s a job for a man who’s handy with a gun – but not too handy, if you get my drift. You said you’re good with knives and axes, too; that mean you know how to fight?”

“Yes,” I answered simply, not bothering to elaborate.

“Good.” He tapped the revolver. “Shina, who runs the saloon, needs a new bodyguard and bouncer. Someone who can keep an eye on things, make sure everyone stays peaceful, and keep tempers from flaring out of control. It’s a job for a person who can use a gun but only does it as a last resort, and you strike me as someone who thinks first and acts second. Am I right about that?”

“Even if I weren’t, would I admit it to you?” I laughed.

“No, but asking that question pretty much answers mine,” he chuckled. “The pay’s a taan a day plus meals and all the water you can drink – no alcohol when you’re on the job – and you’ll earn every piece of tin. You interested?”

“What if I say no?” I asked curiously. “I’m not saying that I will, just wondering.”

“Then I’ll give you three days to either find a way out of town or meaningful income,” he shrugged. “You’ll end up mucking stalls in Bibhav’s stables for a taan a week, sleeping in his hayloft, or you’ll try to leave town on foot.”

He pointed to his left. “Grimbark is a week’s walk that way. It’s a lot less orderly than here, but it’s a logging town, so if you don’t end up getting robbed or your throat slit, you might be able to get by there.” He pointed the other way. “Whitestone is twelve days walk that way, but it’s through some rough terrain, and even if you make it, the only thing to do there is mining.” He shrugged. “Choice is yours, though.”

I leaned back, tapping my knee. “How else can I leave here besides on foot?” I asked.

“Trains run through here every few days,” he shrugged. “You can take one south down to Vadoo on Lake Talb; that’s a big town by Gistal standards, and you can find work there, maybe even someone to teach you how to be a handler. You can also take the train north as far as Chatrig, but that’s just a day’s walk south of the Uttar Forest, and it doesn’t get much more chaotic and murderous than it is up there. Course, there’s also the Sonkhee River that you can take in both directions, too. If you can sail, you might find work on a paddleship plying the river, but none are scheduled to arrive before you have to leave. Same problem with hitching a ride with a merchant heading for Grimbark or Whitestone.”

“And how much would a train to Vadoo cost me?”

“Three taans for standard fare. Work hard, and you could save up enough for a sleeper car in a couple weeks.” He leaned back. “In fact, I’ll make it easier for you. I’ll let you board right here if you want. Cost you a taan a week, so you’ll be making six in profit if you don’t waste it on women, liquor, or gambling. Work here for a month, and you’ll earn yourself a silver chaand; five months, and you’ll make a gold sonat, a year’s wages in most places.”

“Why’s the pay so high for this job?” I asked warily.

He grinned. “Because drinking, whoring, and gambling don’t mix, Naasi. Plus, you remember that detective I mentioned? The one whose gun that is? Well, that’s what happened to Shina’s last bouncer. Poor bastard tried to get between the man and his quarry, and he ended up as a silverbell’s dinner.” He shook his head. “Don’t do that, by the way. A handler comes in throwing his weight around, you come get me, you understand?”

“I haven’t actually taken the job,” I pointed out.

“You will,” he grinned. “But just to make sure, how about this? While you’re staying here, I’ll teach you what you need to know about becoming a handler. I won’t help you bond a pet or anything – that’s on you – but I’ll give you tips on how to go about it and maybe help you keep from making some of the dumb mistakes I did.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked dubiously. “Surely, you’ve got better things to do with your time than that, right?”

“You’d think that, but no,” he chuckled. “That’s the downside of running an orderly town, Naasi. The people here don’t really break the laws that much, and my reputation’s good enough that the people who prefer to live outside the law find someplace like Grimbark to do it, someplace where they don’t have to worry about finding out what the inside of Parri’s stomach looks like.”

He sighed. “Besides, you seem like a decent sort, the kind of person who might actually do well here. It sounds like you’ve put at least some thought into your future, which means you aren’t some glory seeker with sonats in his eyes and no common sense in his brain. If I set you on the right path, you could help make this place a little bit better, and really, that’s about all any of us can ask in this world: to leave it a little better than we found it.”

I nodded, finding myself liking the man despite my usual distaste for law enforcement. “That’s pretty much the code I live by,” I agreed.

“Then let’s go introduce you to Shina,” he said, rising to his feet with a grunt. He gestured to the revolver. “Don’t forget to grab that. You’ll need it.”

“What about bullets?” I asked, hefting the gun. “And a holster?”

“I can get you a holster, no problem. Bullets, though…” He grinned at me. “Those you’d better not need. Just having the piece should be enough to convince most people to behave.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then you’d better figure out a way to convince them,” he chuckled. “Or you’ll find yourself mucking stables faster than you can spit.”