I shove a handful of coins into a pouch on my belt and head down the hill back to Plastictown and to the western market. Past the merchants’ carts, I find Layshell’s home and announce myself.
“Hello there!” she says, greeting me warmly. “Your timing is perfect. I just finished your sleeping mat.”
Inside the cramped home, I see Layshell sitting in the middle of the floor with a stack of reeds, vines, and a bit of yarn. In the corner is a lump covered up by a large blanket. The lump moves slightly, and I can hear the sound of slow, regular breathing coming from underneath it.
Beneath Layshell is a grass mat, and she sits near a short table made of plastic bales. The bags of grain sit on top of the table, but there is no other furniture in the room. I take another step inside and crouch down in front of Layshell to get a better look at the mat.
“Fantastic!” I reach out and touch the mat Layshell has made.
It’s woven surprisingly tight—nearly waterproof—but is still flexible enough to roll up into a much smaller shape. She even included a strap at the top for carrying.
“I thought about making an additional layer on the top side,” she says, “so it would be more comfortable, but I know you wanted something compact. Comfort is going to add more bulk.”
“No, this is perfect,” I tell her. “Really, it is. I feel like I owe you more for it.”
“You don’t,” she says quickly. “I’m pretty sure I still owe you. I can’t thank you enough.”
“We are even.”
“I don’t think so. I could make you a good blanket to go with it or maybe a woven backpack of sorts? I can make just about anything.”
I point over to the lump in the back corner of the home.
“How is your brother?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Sleeping soundly,” she says. “He’s much better after getting good food into him. The grain will last a while, too. By the time it’s gone, he should have his strength back.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” I crouch down to roll the mat up and quickly slip two coins underneath Layshell’s stash of reeds. It will take her a while to find them, and she’ll have no idea how they got there. “Thank you again. I’m going to sleep better tonight!”
I bow and head out the door before she can try to offer me anything else. The mat fits easily over my back with the strap, and it’s light enough that I can barely feel it.
Contemplating better sleep on the ground isn’t enough to distract me from my primary thoughts, though. In my head, I see Moustache Man coming out of Ava’s tent, and my body runs cold, then heats up.
Back in front of Ava’s tent, I see Jonny sitting on the ground and sharpening his axe. He stands as I approach.
“I need another favor,” I tell him. “Well, an extension of the first one, anyway.”
“Is everything all right?” Jonny asks. “You’re being dodgy.”
“Well, that’s just part of my charm!” I smile broadly, but I don’t feel the least bit jocular.
Jonny crosses his hefty arms over his chest and stares me down. It’s obvious he’s going to require more information, and I can’t afford the time to explain it all. I don’t know how long it will take me to get across the river and locate Ava’s assailant.
One thing is for sure—I don’t want to leave her here completely alone. I don’t know the man who attacked her, and it’s possible he could come back. I could miss him when I traverse the river since there is more than one place to cross, and I can’t risk that happening with Ava unprotected.
“I may not make it back before morning,” I tell him as I stash my new mat just inside Ava’s tent. “I have a few things I need to take care of, and I don’t want her left alone. She’s hurt and she doesn’t need any clients bothering her, and it’s Friday night.”
“I’ll have to talk to my other half.” Jonny narrows his eyes, but his look softens. “I’m not sure he’ll be happy about it.”
“I’ll wait.” I give him a nod, and Jonny heads toward the home he shares with Milo, his husband.
I debate going inside and checking on Ava, but I don’t want her to start questioning me about where I’m going and what I’m planning to do.
Jonny returns, led by Milo. Milo is about a foot shorter than Jonny and nowhere nearly as stocky, but he’s got a lot of attitude.
“What is this all about, Talen?” Milo asks as soon as he gets close enough. “I was in the middle of making dinner, and now I’m eating alone?”
“Sorry about that,” I say, trying to look contrite. “If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask.”