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straight for the general store. The main street was unusually quiet for the time of day. The men, he assumed, were either resting after the long hunt for Raven throughout the night or were at work, but he had to wonder what kept the women and children indoors. Everyday errands and chores would still need to be done.
    The town had no saloon, something that did not surprise him. After the goddesses had been driven from the world by the demons, the Godseekers had taken to immortal worship in the hopes of bringing them back. After a demon cut short his career as an assassin, it had amused Blade to take ownership of a saloon in Freetown, the most lawless town he could find. His dead Godseeker uncle would have rolled in his grave. Some sects were more pious than others, even denying themselves pleasures that the goddesses had once enjoyed because the goddesses could no longer experience them.
    That was what was missing here, Blade suddenly realized. He had seen no temple, and yet he would have expected a man like Justice, who had once been the favorite of a goddess if the amulet he wore was genuine, to erect one in his patroness’s honor. Perhaps he’d had no time since the settlement was so obviously new, but Blade did not think that was the reason. Considerable effort had been expended on the Godseeker’s own house that could as easily have been spent elsewhere. Intuition told Blade something was wrong with this town, and he had learned never to disregard his instincts.
    As he walked down the street he exaggerated the limp that once had come naturally to him. A big man was more noticeable but less threatening if he had an obvious handicap, and likely to be dismissed. He entered the general store, a narrow frame building with a false front, low-slung veranda, and a backyard enclosed with picket fencing. Someone had taken the time to transplant two young blue spruce trees to either corner of the veranda. Inside, a single small window near the ceiling joists lit the murky room.
    A thin, colorless woman with gray skin and hair was the store’s only occupant. She eyed him over her bony shoulder from behind the wooden countertop, suspicion darkening her expression at the sight of a stranger. She had been in the midst of wiping the interminable desert dust off some of the store’s merchandise and she paused when he entered, the cloth in her hand hovering above several boxes of tobacco on a high shelf.
    Blade nodded a greeting as he limped past the counter toward a long rack of preserves lining the back wall. Some of the suspicion in her expression lessened as she followed his awkward progress.
    “You were at the town gathering last night,” she called out to him after several moments of silent observation.
    Blade glanced up from inspecting the preserves. So, the residents were calling it a town gathering, as if that somehow absolved them of any responsibility for its outcome. The euphemism irritated him. His first impression of the town had been accurate, that it was dirty beneath the cleanly exterior, and he could not wait to put it behind him. He wondered how Raven, who did not appear to lack either courage or vitality, had fit into the fiber of this place.
    “Yes,” he said.
    He made his response neither friendly nor hostile, yet managed to convey in the single-syllabled word his indifference for small talk because she looked as if she had more to say but kept silent. He wondered how many people had seen him the night before and if any of them would notice that he didn’t normally walk with a limp. Most had been too preoccupied with the Godseeker’s performance to pay attention to such details.
    Blade grabbed several jars of preserves without reading their labels, three boxes of matches, and moved on to the packaged goods. The woman said no more to him and went back to wiping down the counter and shelves, her movements methodical and weary. Once he had all he needed, Blade carried everything to the cash register.
    She took