I woke to a respite from the sun, two shadows covering me like a blanket. The man on the left large enough for the feat on his own. I tried to blink but couldn't. I couldn't know if those muscles didn't function or if I didn't have eyelids.

"Lucky to be alive?" the smaller man, eyes set too close together, chided. He sniggered while his companion stepped closer and stooped down, a corner of my head once again exposed to the raw heat.

He tilted his head in contemplation and then sniffed. "I'm going to give you some water and we'll see if you can talk. If not, you die."

I understood that timing of my death was the only real formality in his mind.

- A Mute, Knowing My Luck

###

"Tell me the story again. From the beginning. Where did you first see the Man in Black?" Joshua wrung his hands and leaned forward, his body bobbing with the jostle of the cart.  Scratchy hay poked through his jeans as Mare-y the old horse trudged forward through the twilight swirls the best she could. The Farmer leaned in with the reigns, Emilie by his side.

"There's nothing else to add," the farmer's voice rasped. "Certainly nothing you haven't heard already. There was a man a few grids over, dressed head to toe in black. Face covered. Weird. Not the sort of thing you see in a small place like this."

"Not a thing you see anywhere, normally," Joshua corrected. He leaned against the other cheek, looking for relief from the straw. "Give me more. I'm one piece of information away from solving this entire case. Think with your brain. Give me those small details."

The Farmer grunted and choked up on the reigns. "He wasn't close. You've seen all the fog we get around this time of year? Yeah?"

"What time of day did you see him?"

"It was early in the week. Ertligh maybe?" The Farmer paused as Joshua gave a sigh of frustration. "Just after lunch, if you really think that matters."

Absent-mindedly, Joshua plucked at the hay, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. "You said you were on top of your embankment. Why?"

The Farmer fussed with Emilie, slapping her hand away as she tried to tug at the reigns. Ten seconds after Joshua asked his question, the Farmer answered: "A man can survey his kingdom. I'm sure you've seen people up there just looking around. Heck, I've seen you do it."

Air expelled from Joshua's nose. "I've been here almost two weeks and I've yet to see you take a walk more than five feet from your house. Now you tell me you're up there for no reason?"

"I haven't had to go outside all that much since you've been here. The hike up is one thing when you're already cold. Leaving the fireplace? Not even when I was your age."

The old cart skirted along in a-rhythmic thumps over the gravel road, through the pastel mists of twilight. Nothing to do with the Farmer's testimony, Joshua kept an eye on those tall dirt mounds. The biggest ones towered ten feet higher than the road, and you could see an awful lot from up there. That much was true.

"Hey Emilie," Joshua began.

"Leave her out of--"

"Why was your dad up on that windbreak?"

The Farmer grumbled, "I said to not go bothering--"

"He was saying goodbye," Emilie said.

"Saying goodbye to whooooo?" Joshua half sung, his voice tapering until it pitched out. Then he waited. The cart rocked in silence outside of the click of wood on pebble. Joshua cleared his throat, "I said--"

"I heard you," the man bellowed. "We were having lunch with a lady from the town, if you won't stop snooping. I won't tell you who. I'm a private person who doesn't need to wake up to gossip.

"I won't--"

"You will," the Farmer cut off flatly.

This was true. Joshua would have absolutely asked questions and everyone in town would know. It elicited a tinge of self-reflection inside. Being an annoyance was one thing, being a predictable annoyance was the real death knell to pride.

Joshua slumped and thought. If I could find out who, she might have seen something. Is that what this is going to come down to? Figuring out who the old man has his eye on? Joshua's shoulders drooped to a deep slouch. How can this depend on something so boring?

The cart stopped at the four-way intersection leading down to the highway and no screeching tires on gravel greeted them. Good times, Joshua was okay with the memory now that Peter was back on his feet.

What other information could Joshua pursue if he really had to start over? What mystery could he solve before morning? Why was Bartholomew in town? The question thumped in his brain, matching the rhythm of the cart. It wasn't the first time he'd asked himself this.

Doctor Bartholomew had slowly been working his way north up the continent, skirting the Taerose border. There had been no real logic or reason to his stops and no purpose that Joshua or Kael could discern as they followed. Bartholomew's movements were troublingly sporadic to the point that Joshua and Kael had been lucky not to lose him, and they had a few years of practice at this sort of thing by now. Bartholomew used fake names at every hotel. Stolen credit chits to pay for oversized meals at every restaurant. He would have escaped if not for some dumb luck. Joshua had matched security camera footage of a man with his coat obscuring his face buying two tickets at the bus stop to a photo of Bartholomew with his coat from a traffic light camera. Good thing the Yatalans were so keen on government oversight that the cameras were public record.

At first glance, the purchase of two tickets seemed monumental, but the brother's had tracked him across several bus and train stations. Bartholomew would buy between two and five tickets. Sometimes for the same bus, sometimes split between many. Once the pattern was established, Joshua wrote it off as nothing more than an obvious diversionary tactic.

The loop-de-loops of thoughts racing about Joshua's mind were just that-- circular. He was missing something in plain view and he knew it. That ate him up. Made him to dig his fingernails into his palm in both focus and flagellation. He knew he had no real value outside his mind even if his brother would never say it.

The fog gradually grew bright with orange flowers and yellow rays that danced in the thick air. Music crescendoed and feet stomped in the distance. Joshua heard the fast thump of string citoles and pipes-- the joys of local culture. He also detected a raucous banging; someone had dragged a drum kit along to insult the traditionalists. The enormous shadow of a water wheel (the carnival variety) titaned out of the mist, the individual carts hanging off its steel frame and twittering in the breeze every time it stopped.

            The steam dissipated almost entirely in the final stretch, buildings rising up on either side indicating solid stone ground beneath. Thermal vents were not good for a building's structure, and even if you meant to save on the heating bill, those savings would be lost by the yearlong need for air conditioning.

            Joshua flung his head back, resting it on the lip of the cart, and watched with sideways eyes the multitudes of people walking along the streets, store fronts glowing like ovens, artisanal canopies, and bank sponsored art booths dotting the roadside. More than the town of Einhurst would show up. An event like this would pull travelers from ten, maybe twenty miles out: Frangart, Briersburg, East Holiness, Knullsau.

            That was in fact an exhaustive list.

            Looking out amongst the faces and playing his guessing games, Joshua invented stories for each passerby. An old scarf? Perhaps they knitted. Clean boots or no boots at all? Had to be someone who worked in town. Old lady Agassa had played this game with Joshua on countless occasions, outright demanded his participation. She never said what it was for, though. To Joshua, it seemed vaguely helpful; but also not.

            He did not see Kael.

            As Mare-y pulled them into the central town square and heart of the festivities, Joshua thanked the Farmer and gave Emilie an awkward thumbs up. Alighting from the buggy, he began looking for his brother. Sure, he could call his brother's cellphone, but Kael was conditioned to it being used for life and death emergencies. Plus, Joshua would miss out on all those little side stories that happened when you ignored what you should be doing. Action. Adventure. Love. Probably not the last one. Joshua needed to learn to speak to girls in full sentences before that would happen.

            He veered left and got in line for the water wheel. The giant rotating steel structure was vertical (as all wheels were, he supposed) and just tall enough to see over the surrounding buildings. Get in a car, and from way up there he might see Kael or anything else worth noting.

            The ascent revealed the broiling grey wall of steam that surrounded the city. It was like shooting up through the middle of a donut. And it was awkward. Joshua spent his time smooshed in with a family of four. He had experienced the six stages of acceptance by the time he reached the apex, but that didn't make him feel better being two inches away from a man's arm hair. The wheel groaned as it moved, grumbling at the cold. Even the cars swivelled slowly in protest. Unable to fight it, the wheel kept moving and Joshua glided over the buildings.

            He watched the Farmer beat an oval through the center of town, carrying children on his cart. He glanced in the direction of the inn simply because it was something familiar, just making out the door to his room. With a gambler's hope, he skimmed the crowds for Kael, Doctor Bartholomew, or something that would qualify as the Man in Black, but the only recognizable face he saw was Doree the hotel clerk stepping into the Crispy Biscuit.

            So he shrugged and relaxed. Or rather, tried to relax. All the fresh air made his mind buzz with possibilities again. Is Bartholomew the Man in Black? No, that's the opposite of hiding. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Joshua snarled and drummed his fingers on the side of the cart. Behind him, the mother brought her two children a little closer

            The self hatred was pushed out by the sickly sweet armoa of frying oil. His fingers thumped on the metal side of the cart, thumping a beat as his soul grooved to the music playing in the distance. He watched families bustling the streets below, reminding Joshua of his sisters back home.

            And then he shot up, back as rigid as steel. His thumb ran across his finger tips just avoiding snapping, the universal sign of an idea. A smile crept across his face which began to dance. He turned to face the family, frantic to share. " I bloody figured it out." The mother scowled at the course language. "I do. I have it. I gorie figured it out." The children snickered as both parents started to object to the outright cursing. It didn't matter though.

            The rest of the ride faded like a dream, already forgotten. Joshua strode the fairgrounds, pushing his way through the crowd. He couldn't have even said why his feet were back on the ground. A man bustled by Joshua and gave a worried glance, noticing Joshua's scrunched up 'thinking face'. In all fairness, Joshua looked more mad than contemplative.

            He didn't even notice his brother skirting up along side him, patiently waiting for Joshua to finish his mania of thoughts. Kael steered them towards the wooden picnic tables which nested under electric heating lamps. Along the outside of the tables, a ring of tents and food trucks occupied the town's charging stations.

            "Kael! Where'd you come from? And how did you find me?"

            "Hard to miss you when the crowd parts."

            "How'd your trip out. . . west go?" Joshua asked, dropping his voice as he steered them to the line for warm drinks. Old Man Ward's hovel was not west.

            "I'm sure you heard," Kael shrugged, knowing what a waste it would be to correct his brother. "Nothing to report back. Certainly nothing we're going to talk about in public."

            "You mean to tell me the Doctor wasn't hanging out with the town drug pusher? Color me shocked."

            "How did you-- Never mind." Kael looked his brother over as they made their way to the front of the line. "You're acting. . . strange. What do you know?"

            Joshua shrugged and did a horrible job at not smiling. "Let's find a seat away from people and talk." He turned and looked the menu of the drink booth over. Not exactly variety, it was either soda, paline, booze, or some combination of the three. The typical variety of beer was fermented from paline, but they also had the old Eastern variety made from hops if you were willing to pay the upcharge; not that Joshua drank-- not even when it was legal: the concept of anything changing how he perceived the world? He didn't like it.

            Kael didn't drink either. As close as they were, Joshua had yet to suss out the specific 'why'. The general area that he assumed the answer lay made him not want to explore that topic.

            "The drugs were a surprise," Kael volunteered. "I didn't think Bartholomew was going to be there but I had to try. I assumed the immoral conduct went in a different direction, though."

            Joshua stopped and bit his lip. "I legitimately have no idea what you mean by that."

            He grabbed his drink of hot paline with cinnamon and tarragon and waited for Kael to realize that they had nothing he would drink. Kael snagged a cup of water from another booth and the two boys found their table away from the crowds.

            Joshua sifted the snow from his seat and sat down; Kael just sat.

            "So my news," Joshua started. "Bartholomew did come through town, but he left two weeks ago.

            Extra cautious, Kael began signing a banal conversation with his hands as he spoke: "And do you know where he went?"

            "How could I?" Joshua shrugged and nearly spat as he took a sip of overly hot beverage. He raked his tongue against his front teeth and settled back down.

            Kael's hands matched the conversation now with a curse. "So we're done here? Time to just go home? You could have told me afterwards, at least I would have enjoyed myself then."

            "You sound mad."

            "You're going to sit there and--" Kael grew silent at the dopey look on Joshua's face, his brother's eyebrows jumping up and down. "You know how to find him."

            "Sorta-kinda. I know who knows where he went."

            "You know. . . . Huh?"

            Joshua joined in the hand dance as well, his signing making a note on the weather. "The Man in Black knows where he is." Joshua held up his palms. "No, no, no, hear me out. Why did we have such a hard time following Bartholomew here? He didn't know we were following him. So let's assume someone else was on his trail. And let's say, for the sake of argument that you're going to kidnap a man, wouldn't you dress in black and cover your face?

            Kael groaned. "None of that is evidence. You're being wildly presumptuous."

            "It fits." Joshua signed the same to really drive home the point, laying his palms together at a right angle. "So I propose one last competition. It's six hours to midnight, first one to find the Man in Black wins."

            "Go to the hospital and talk to the rich kid then. That's what you want?"

            "You're talking about Pieter. I already spoke with him today and confirmed that he's a copy cat. It is undeniable that someone, dressed head to toe in black, was seen the same day Bartholomew was last seen."

            "This is absurd. Watch, I can make assumptions too. Why would the man who kidnapped Bartholomew still be in town? This is--" Kael grunted in frustration, his hands reaching for Joshua as if to strangle him. "Everything you're saying is so stupid."

            "He doesn't need to be physically in town; he just needs to be paying attention to what's going on around here, and I can gaurentee you he's paying attention. Reasonable duduction number three: someone reported a lost child, and it wasn't anyone from Einhurst, because, news flash, there are no missing children around here."

            Your assumption is. . . ." Kael frowned and then started to drum his fingers, his teeth grinding like sand paper on bolsa. "You're basing it on how many tickets he bought. He bought five once! It's  not a clue."

            "That's where my theory really starts coming together." He always purchased between two and five. Two Kael. Never, not once did Bartholomew ever buy a single ticket for himself. If he was trying to be as random as possible, he probably would have at some point."

            "Unless he couldn't, because he had someone with him. Someone, I will add that we never saw on any footage."

Joshua shrugged. "Were you looking for a second person? I wasn't. And even if that's true, only Bartholomew had to put himself on camera buying the tickets. In either case, it fits the narrative I'm spinning."

            "So, Bartholomew left a child behind and the kidnapper wants the child too?"

            Joshua's face lit up in mock surprise. "Why little brother, you are being wildly presumptions right now. I do declare, and all that. I'm not saying it's the most likely scenario. I'm just saying it's the one where we end up finding Bartholomew. Do you want to take the outside chance, or do you want to pretend you like folk dancing?"

              "I'm not won over," Kael said, "but I'm having trouble denying any single part either. So let's--" Kael drew himself up straight and stretched his neck with a rolling crack, "get on with it." Kael's face grew palid and his voice choked out. His hands begged for absolute silence. "Syche," he whispered.

            Kael had Joshua by the wrist and dragged him towards the biggest crowd before Joshua could process that information.