I woke into distinct consciousness, and with the hammering of the post-liquor sickness, arrived shame. I had despaired to the point of breaking down, apparently only because Motsa knew me for what I was. Men were the smiths of their own misery, and I had been busy at the anvil and furnace. Not busy, perhaps. But indolently present at the withering heat and clinking alloy.

My appearance was indeed a disguise, one which my old friend had appropriated for his benefit at the first opportunity. Motsa had turned my idiocy and poor life decisions into a way to make myself useful for the motherland. He always had a knack for choosing his pawns well: here beside me snored his target. With his neck relaxed and mouth open, Vesija lacked the habitus of an enemy of the state, but then again, appearances are deceptive.

Trying to outguess Motsa's schemes only intensified my headache. On the brighter side, the hangover was the main culprit for my desire to end. I went to the bathroom, which lacked both a real shower or sink. The hose did offer lukewarm water, which was enough to wash away the physical grime of the previous night. While I combed my hair, the floor of the main room thudded under heavy feet.

"Good morning", Vesija called through the door.

"Morning. Do you have anything for a headache?"

"Sure. I am a physician, after all."

In a brief moment he knocked the door. I opened it a little.

A large hand pushed inside to offer two small pills. "These'll help with nausea too."

"Thank you." I took the pills, even if his eagerness to help had already taken away most of the discomfort.

We ate the breakfast together. Not in the saloon, but a half-respectable workers' restaurant close-by. In my evening gown I was rather overdressed for the establishment, but so was Vesija in his satinate suit.

"Is your offer still available?" I asked. "My employment situation didn't turn out to be quite what I hoped."

Vesija's spoon stopped midway to his mouth. "Oh. You mean travelling with the show? Of course. I'm sorry to hear your plans didn't work out."

"Mine weren't very good plans." I moved my twiddling hands under the table. "Would you be in need of a guard? It may not look like it, but I am a decent shot."

"I can believe that. Marksmanship is the pride of the old Jaan families, is it not?"

"Yes. The 'Old Art'." I pointed at my eye. "The stereotypical Jaan is expected to have big eyes and good eyesight, which is supposed to translate into accuracy at long range. Naturally, that was more relevant when the only working guns were heirlooms. I personally have no military experience, however."

"Well, I wouldn't have expected that. Never mind. Can do you trickshoot? With your appearance, that would work as an addition to our show."

"What do you mean by my 'appearance'?"

"Audiences tend to respond well to femininity and beauty. You wouldn't have to be a world-grade shootist to entertain."

For a moment I had the notion that he meant to have me as the freak in the show. But Vesija wasn't the same as my employer.

I pursed a smile. "World-grade... Perhaps not. Safe to say that I am as good as anyone on this continent when it comes to idle gunplay."

"Do you have experience of theatrics?" Vesija put his spoon down and leaned forward. "If not, do give me a sample of your poshest accent."

My squeaks hadn't been particularly lowly, but I could stretch the enunciation to its proper extend. "Very well. How does this sound: 'I am Jaan. The mastery of the world is my heritage.' Anything more archaic and I shall be reciting liturgy."

A miniscule shudder shifted Vesija's shoulders. "Yes. That will do. Capital refinement is ever fashionable in the frontier, but few have the lifelong experience require to affect it so naturally."

"I don't affect, I am." My hunch was correct. The fancy articulation did have an effect on the man, presumably in the combination with my appearance and voice. I moved a hand to adjust my gown, which shifted my bosom. "I'll need a new wardrobe, if I'm to travel."

Only at the boutique did I realise that the shop was the same as yesterday. The tailor showed no reaction at my arrival in a dishevelled state, accompanied a wholly different man.

The collection of more pragmatic clothes surprised me with its vastness. Vesija waited patiently, as I dithered about. Eventually my own indecisiveness bothered me also. To get it over with, I picked a carmine gown of a shiny dirt-resistant fabric, a dainty but warm felt hat and a pair of comfortably tight boots. Additionally, I selected warm sets of underwear and a hefty suitcase to carry my wardrobe.

Despite my poor investments, my wallet still held a considerable sum. Enough to pay for the purchases if not much else.

Vesija placed a large hand on top of mine. "I'll pay. It'll be another investment." The darting of his eyes told what the earlier 'investments' had been. Warmth flared across my face, and without a word gainsaid I let the man waste his slivers on me.

In the familiar boudoir, I changed into the new ordinary but distinctly womanly attire. The brisk air outside was significantly more tolerable now that my flesh wasn't in the open.

"Thank you, Vesija", I said. "I shall find a way to repay you. Failing that, you can take it from my wages."

"Please don't consider yourself beholden to me", Vesija said. "Let's get rest of the equipment you'll need."

Our next stop was the gun store. There I didn't have to rely on any half-remembered impressions of stylish women to guide my purchases. I knew what I wanted.

"That's a good item, miss", the shopkeeper said.

I grinned at him. The Ulpema series boasted a pedigree which reached all the way to the brink of prehistory. The carbine in my hands was furnished with fancily white wood. An internal filament array reinforced its rifled barrel of hyperdense bone. The pump was similarly laced to enable impressive pressure inside the alloy tank, which lay hidden in the stock. Lever-orifice action allowed easy use of even osmium slivers as ammunition, though normal needles were enough for deadly power and precision.

The shopkeeper told the price, which managed to make Vesija pause.

"It will keep miss here safe, from both bandits or clanners a like."

"I haven't heard the clansfolk being much of a danger", Vesija said.

"Well, you never know with those people. Come a hard winter, and they'll be up to eating humans again. Anyhow, what will it be, sir?"

"Is that what you need?" Vesija asked me.

"This is the one. But I can pick something more affordable and pay it myself." The Ulpema was nowhere near the most expensive gun in the store, but it certainly wasn't cheap junk either.

Vesija turned to the shopkeeper. "I'll heed my bodyguard. We'll take this one."

"'Bodyguard'?" I asked when we were out of the shop.

Vesija smirked at me. "I didn't want the shopkeeper to think that I let just any girl upstage me on matters martial."

"Then again, the juxtaposition of a woman guarding a man of considerable size should generate notice."

"I thought so too. Do you like your new needler?"

"It's lovely. Thank you."

"Again, there is no need to be grateful for business expenses."

I leaned closer to him with silly grin on my face.

We headed to the stable, where Vesija's wagon waited. Though splayed low, the beast was of considerable size and had a whole wooden cabin on its back. While its owner had been away, the wagon had gone through an extensive rest and health regime, during which it had sprouted fresh set of legs to replace the worn old ones. Its chitin shone from the recent moulting, and the amaranth paint on the side of the cabin was similarly new.

"'Vesija's Tonics and Pharmaceuticals'", I read off the side of the wagon. "A descriptive name for a business, if not the most imaginative."

"I didn't want to embellish it too much. None of my articles require 'miracles' ––of science or otherwise–– to work."

Inside the cabin was a small laboratory workshop and a cramped slice of living space. Vesija was forced to stoop while he moved, and I too had to watch out for my skull against the hanging clutter. The room lacked in domestic decorations, but with a bit of a woman's touch, it could certainly turn cosy. I'd have to find that womanly touch first. There was only one bed in an alcove, though it was serviceably wide.

Vesija lowered my suitcase on the floor and pushed it under the bed. "Are you sure that you'll be content travelling in the same wagon? It's quite cramped, but we can arrange accommodations in the settlements."

"I shall manage. We survived last trip, didn't we?"

The man let out a heavy breath. "Right. Let's circle around to the back alley. I want to see my latest investment put to use."

The faded election poster sported five needle-holes in the stern forehead of the mayoral candidate.

Vesija leaned to examine the tight spread with smile on his lips. "I assumed that cocking the needler that fast would definitely shift your aim, but apparently not."

Though the carbine had a hefty kick, my new 'cushion' hadn't been much of an obstruction. Nevertheless, I made a mental note to look into tying the bosom down tighter. "Marksmanship comes from the spine after enough practice. Do you want to try?"

He gave me an amused but insecure glance. "I'd just end up embarrassing myself."

"Oh, do indulge me. It shall be fun. If you happen to lack the skill, maybe I can teach you later." I offered the needler to coax him further.

Vesija accepted the gun, hesitantly, and we returned to the line in the mud. His shooting stance was near-textbook but dreadfully stiff. Still, the weapon was rather small in his grip, which allowed him to handle it well. After each shot he paused to load and re-aim.

We returned to the posters. The holes were all over it.

"You hit the target, at least."

Vesija sighed out a large cloud of cooled moisture and handed the needler back to me. "I've never been much of a shooter."

"It's just matter of practice. Or having these Jaan fish-eyes."

"No need to disparage them. Yours is a fine phenotype to be a conventional example of."

I pursed a smile. "Aren't you a charmer."

"Anything else I managed to come up with would have been a platitude."

"An unconventional charmer then."

The man remained silent. His gaze was glued to mine.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry. I ended up lost, while examining your eyes."

My mouth twisted into an involuntarily silly smile. "Is that one of the platitudes you mentioned?"

"Possibly. I doubt many Jaan girls have escaped hearing its like."

"You know, not all of us share a family resemblance."

"I must be lucky then." The man paused and nodded at my needler. "What I meant... If you are right, and those eyes help with the aim, I couldn't ask for a better trick-shot bodyguard." He gestured towards his wagon. "Let's go meet the rest of the show."

According to the common wisdom, the typical Narshurian medicine show was merely a veneer for travelling salesmen of flesh and spiced intoxicants.

It certainly wasn't The Grand Continental Circus awaiting for us at the muddy field next to the palisade. In fact here were only three vehicles. One rather normal travelling carriage, a cargo wagon and a small odd buggy with a teetering hovel on top.

A man and woman strode to us, their thin limbs swinging in exaggerated motions. The weather-defying tight costumes emphasised their sinewy bodies. Sharply feature, both had a similar unusual look, which indicated siblings or foreigners.

"Hello Vesija", the woman said.

"Have you broken your bout of celibacy?" asked the man.

Vesija gestured at the man. "These are Dzaki" Then to the woman. "And Kaala."

The pair bowed. "The Utrian Twins, at your service."

The chirurgeon let out an uneasy chuckle. "In case you end up wondering, Neru. They are not actually related."

"As far as you know." Dzaki grabbed the woman from her waist. Kaala's stiff body was lifted to balance on Dzaki as if she lacked weight altogether.

"Our passion is acrobatics, mimery and other hijinx..." Dzaki said.

"... but by our profession we are veterinarians." Kaala stretched her frame to handstand on the man's shoulders. "I'm lean more towards biomechanics."

"And I tend to take care of animals."

"Yes, yes", came an exasperated croak from the buggy. An older woman stormed out. "Always with these theatrics." She walked right up to me to give me a hard-eyed examination. "My name is Nelavi."

"She plays the organ." Vesija made a rigidly official hand motion at me. "This is––"

"Will you be another mouth to feed?" Nelavi demanded. "You need to be aware lass that I take care of the logistics, you see. Washing, feeding, mending. Anything not alive I'll take care off. Not that there is much to do with only the four us."

"Your show seems undermanned for the term 'logistics'", I said.

"Yes." Kaala dropped down with her feet barely disturbing the muddy ground. "There used to be more of us. The usual hanger-ons haven't showed up again, after we lost half of our regulars. Vuhni left back to the coast. Jale married a prospector."

"And Raaga died", Nelavi added. She was quick to break the silence she had created. "Too much drink. Happens. So, what about you, new lass?"

Vesija introduced me and my new job as the resident shootist.

"That's good then", Nelavi said. "Wouldn't be much of a show, if it was just these two flexing about."

"Speaking of flexing", Kaala said. "We have done that all morning. Boss..."

Dzaki continued: "Will we put on a show today?"

"That was my plan. I've spread the word, so we should get a decent crowd even on short notice." Vesija turned to me. "Nerutaara, are up to a public demonstration right away?"

My heart leaped into a delightfully rapid rhythm. I'd get to play 'Nerutaara' to an audience again. Except nobody would see the woman as a mere role.

"Sure." I grinned. "Sounds fun."

Vesija went to prepare his tonics. I had a short dry rehearsal of sorts with the Utrian 'Twins'.

"I'll stand on Dzaki and hold something in my mouth", Kaala said. "A fruit or smoke or a long straw."

"And you'd shoot it", Dzaki said. "We could add some juggling for a proper spectacle."

Inwardly I grimaced. I was good, but not good enough to compensate for the mistakes of myself and two others. "This shall be my first time shooting on the stage. We can come up with more of such fancy ideas later, after we know how I handle the pressure."

The talk of precarious juggling didn't cease, but the ideas grew saner. After the twins assured me it was alright to test my gun inside the town limits, I did a bit more shooting. Oddly enough, nobody came to check on the wanton noise. Presumably the crack and sigh of a needler wasn't such an obvious sign of danger in Tankai as it was back home.

A frontier town unlikely lacked decent shooters, though most must have veered towards military discipline or careful hunting instead of the flashy antics of a gunslinger. I'd have to lean on my existing advantages: my appearance and experience on the stage.

I brought back into my mind all the fake-modest dancing girls on the stages of shady establishments. The details were hazy beyond the sinuous flow of movement and the coy smiles. I myself had to avoid anything overtly salacious. The more innocent and thus younger I appeared, the more remarkable my skills would seem.

The Utrians left to put on their costumes. I headed to Vesija's wagon, just as Nelavi burst out. She strode straight to me.

"Lass, we'll be off to set up the stage soon." Nelavi stooped with the weight of years. Except she kept forgetting the matter, and her posture remained in constant flux. Her dyed hair made it difficult to gauge her actual age. She might have been weather-worn middle aged, but I suspected she was indeed a particularly well-preserved crone.

"Do you have the means and skill to put on a proper stage makeup?" she asked me. "The paint needs to be classy. It'd be smart to emphasise your ladyship."

"I've been on the stage before."

"Yes, I figure. You certainly have the looks of a Jaan dame. Did you end up disgraced among the theatrics?"

"Well, you could say––"

Nelavi cut me off. "Sorry for being nosy." Her smile revealed a full set of healthy teeth. "I have so much to worry about that my words trample over my manners." She leaned closer. "Now, you watch yourself with that Vesija. That muscle is not for show only. The lad is a plains savage. He keeps it hidden, so I don't know which clan he hails from, but be warned: some of them treat women like the rest of their animals. If you aren't careful, he'll tie you to him for life with a foal or seven."

The organist hadn't meant harm with her words, as far as I understood, but she had unwittingly reminded me of what lay under the role of Nerutaara.

She patted my shoulder. "We'll set up next to the Jaan looter business they call the Survey. Now, off I go."

My body stiffened. The window of Motsa's office overlooked the square in question. He'd see me prance around in the guise of a girl. Yet that might be good. I'd show him how well I had succeeded in my job. He would be saved from a thorough disappointment.

The chirurgeon peeked out of the wagon and smiled. His changed suit was even more exquisite than his usual attire to the point that he was patently overdressed to any occasion available in Narshur. "Neru. Will you be coming along?"

"Yes." I sighed and followed him inside the wagon. "Yes..."

"Anything awry? Are you still nauseous?" He offered me a vial. "Here, I made you this. For the sickness. It helps the liver metabolise toxins, but also puts a spring to your step."

Though the physical queasiness had left me, I drank the medicine. The sweetness barely veiled the deep sour taste. "Thank you."

"Just ask if you need anything else. You can put on the makeup, while I drive."

The chilly air reminded the inhabitants of the steppe that the winter was far from gone. In spite of the sharp wind, a considerable crowd had gathered on the square. Nelavi changed the vapid waiting tune into a hammered flourish, and Vesija stepped up to the stage. I and the Utrians followed. The pair wore bizarre costumes, which evoked, if anything, the sense of religious rituals from a faraway corner of the world. All four of us clasped hands and bowed deep, while Nelavi finished the elaborate fanfare.

"Welcome, deserving people of Tankai." Vesija's voice rose in a casual boom. "Many of you know me, but to those who haven't yet had the pleasure, I am Vesija Aamkena, a chirurgeon from the halls of hoary Poalin Institute. Today, I'm here to offer you pharmaceuticals of the highest quality. You may accept substitutes, if you can find any!"

I did my best to grin as a particularly pert lass. Despite the spectacle of music, odd foreigners and a resplendent orator, many eyes were turned at me. Perhaps they wondered, what I was supposed to be in the out-of-place gang.

The chirurgeon gave us the answer. He gestured at me and said: "With my assistant's tireless help, I have manufactured a cavalcade of finest tonics for your perusal.

"We have cures for common ailments and odd afflictions. Tonics to boost performance both in work and pleasure. Renovate your immune system with a proleukocytic kernel. Kick off bad habits through a neural reset. Lose excess weight in a snap with an intestinal parasymbiont. Gain pleasing curves with a patent rexigenic.

"Even if you don't know, what exactly is wrong with you, today I will personally offer my services as a certified chirurgeon. But you don't have to take my word alone for the efficacy of my articles."

He nodded at me. I stiffened my frame and clutched his hand like we had planned. As if I was a porous piece of chalk, he lifted me on his shoulder. A genuine giggle escaped my lips, and the crowd bellowed their approval.

"We offer catalysts for muscular development and long-term respite from the fatigue of hard labour", Vesija explained. "With proper exercise, sleep, nutrition and my pharmaceuticals, anyone can pick up the girl ––or boy–– of their dreams."

He lowered me back to the stage, leaned to my ear and whispered: "If you don't let go of my hand right now, I'll kiss you."

My grip tightened. An arm moved around my waist and pulled me into an embrace. Lips touched, and someone whistled in the audience. Only after Vesija let go off me did I realise the kiss had been part of the show. Little romance spiced up anything. I played the part of a stunned damsel perfectly, by staring into a fuzzy horizon.

Vesija pointed at my eyes and resumed his oration. "See here? These two may seem like mere orbs of Jaan jewellery. In truth they are telescopic sights, in comparison to the organs most people use to regard the world. Though she has the mild advantage of her heritage, with the help of my ocular tonics, anyone can repair or improve their vision."

I opened my eyes wide so the people in the back could see how big they were.

The chirurgeon fetched my needler from its rest. "This fine weapon was provided by the Iara's store yonder. Highly accurate, but requires sure hands to handle." He gave the gun to me and continued: "After imbibing my Conglomish neurodexterity tonic, the dainty hands of my assistant Dame Nerutaara here have been transformed into those of a seasoned Jaan marksman. My audience, someone please throw a snowball high into the air."

I filled my lungs to the brim. After a moment, four snowballs rose like freed birds. One of them was too slow to go high enough, so I ignored it.

Three shots, and three snowballs burst into sprays of lush. The last one was hit too close to the heads of audience, but based on the cheer, they didn't mind the danger.

Vesija gave me a confused look, which presumably wasn't part of the show. I grinned, and the quicksalver gathered himself.

"There you have it", Vesija said and encouraged the audience into an applause. After the clapping was over, he continued: "With my tonics, some training and a proper rifle from Iara's, it is possible even a damsel to become a gunslinger. Now, for the next few hours, I will hold my reception at the other side of the wagon. My assistant and the world-famous Utrian Twins shall perform feats of dexterity and strength, enhanced by my merchandise of course, to your viewing pleasure."

The Utrians burst into motion. They moved like one hyper-agile animal, which split momentarily, only to collapse back together into most outlandish forms. In between their tricks, they juggled various items for me to shoot. The cheers pounded the excitement to cloud my mind. I began to put excess flair to my stances, because I figured that at the short distance, it mattered little how I held the gun. Fortunately nobody was hit by any wayward needles.

Of course I couldn't know, how much of the Tankai folk were interested in my supposed tonical enhancement, skill or girlish self. Many were merely standing in line to Vesija's reception, so one couldn't entirely blame the lack of local entertainment.

My needler let out of an exhausted wheeze. "That's all, folks. My gun is sapped."

The Utrians showed no sign of exhaustion, but they joined me in a bow. The following applause was brief yet earnest. Kaala took Nelavi's place at the organ. The acrobat played a simple childish tune, while the organist went to receive her own applause.

I glanced at the high window of the Survey building. The glittering of the Sun on the glass made it impossible to see, if I was observed.

"Hey, miss!" A girl leaned on the edge of the stage.

"Hey there." I crouched in order not to seem haughty. We were supposed to entertain, after all.

"Did you really learn to shoot from a bottle?"

"Quite the opposite." I smiled. "The bottle is only good for learning how to get shot."

The girl grinned, even if she seemed a bit too young to get the joke. A woman, the girl's mother presumably, guided her back into the dissipating crowd.

I answered a few more questions as coyly as I could and headed to the back of the wagon. The waiting line wasn't long, but it was steadily replenished. I myself waited for the current customer to leave and slipped between the leather flaps into the lean-to, which lead to the chirurgeon's impromptu reception.

"How's business?" I asked.

"Well, quite well." Vesija smiled without turning from his apparatus. "Nobody has asked for sharpshooting tonics yet, but many have mentioned you and your skills."

"That's nice." In truth I had been somewhat annoyed that he had implied my ability wasn't my own. "They didn't ask about the Utrians? Those two were the real stars of the show."

"Few ever do. That kind of skill is incredible even with tonics."

"That's true." I fed my needler a gulp of honeydew and placed it on the bed to recharge. For two deep breaths, I gathered the will to ask what I wanted. "Vesija. What was that kiss about?"

"Forgive me. I was swept by the show." Vesija let go of his tools and turned to me. "I should have given you proper warning."

"No. It's fine." My heart twisted. "We can talk about it later. If you want."

"Right." Vesija reached for a tiny pouch on the table. "The gun-seller, that Iara, visited. He paid the agreed sum but also wanted you to have this." He tossed me the pouch. It had the heft of osmium, and inside I found a small collection of raw slivers.

"This must be equal to the cost of my carbine", I said. "Just for me?"

"Yes. Your gave the shop good, but also truthful, advertisement."

"That's nice. A bit of money was what I was going to ask from you. I'm going to go invest this. Or..." I took one sliver from the pouch and left the rest on the table. "Better not be too loaded. I can take a few of hours off?"

"Sure. Just make sure you are back before dark. I aim to camp for the night well outside the town."