[i]Little Sister... [/i] People around her were not usually so friendly. Whiskey, she thought, she could trust him as far as whiskey...

... In the tavern the barkeep was not in a good mood. She over-drank with the man. She would listen to his stories and be careful to tell none of her own. It wasn't much effort on her part. She didn't fancy herself a story teller, or fancy herself having a story worth telling... "Solomon is full of bad luck." She'd tell him this "getting more each day." Then she would stumble home...


... That night, she woke. She told herself that she had lost her flint and dropped it at the undertakers. However, this was a small lie. She didn't really know what roused her and brought her back into the heart of Solomon. 

There were people in the undertakers office. The man who had hired her, and another young man. 

She stood in the street, rolled some tobacco and herbs, wondering if she should intrude or wait. If the man had been alone she would have entered, but this other boy, baker, she didn't know him well, though she had seen him. 

She decided to look for a back door. She wanted to know what this man who had hired her was up to.