Darah froze, her fork just an inch from her mouth, the charred mutton still steaming. Her eyes darted from side to side, as if searching for something. She was alone in her dining room, as she knew she should have been. Once, she had been a prominent fighter in the Empress’s arena, and had earned enough gold and prestige to employ a small army of servants to see to her house. Those times were gone, now, and Darah lived alone.

But something caught the very edge of her hearing. Something in her house had moved when it shouldn’t have. It was impossible to think that it might have been an intruder. Even if Darah were past her prime as a fighter, she was still more than a match for any common prowler. She had a few political enemies, vying with her for favor with the Empress. But they had already won; the Empress had not granted her an audience in over a year. There was no need for any of her enemies to even attempt to kill her when, politically, she was already dead.

Moving slowly, Darah set her fork down on her plate. She took a deep breath and held it, listening to the silence for any noise. She heard none, but she knew she had felt some disturbance in the air. Something had changed. Darah glanced down at her dinner with a certain remorsefulness, knowing that it would be disappointingly cold by the time she got to it. She sighed, pushed herself away from the table, and grabbed the mace that was leaning against the chair next to hers. She flexed her grip on her familiar, favored weapon for just a moment before turning away from the table.

What followed was a thorough, comprehensive, systematic sweep of her home. The house was a remnant from her glory days, when the adulation of Empress and Empire alike had afforded Darah a degree of opulence unseen in most corners of the world. And although the servants, the sycophants, and the hangers-on had all left, the home was hers, and only the Empress herself could ever take it from her. And so, while she only truly used a small handful of the rooms, there were, in fact, dozens of rooms to check.

With each room she checked, Darah became increasingly convinced that somebody else was in her home. She could not exactly explain why that was. There was no sound to alert her to a stranger in her home. There was no strange odor hanging in the air. But there was something, some feeling that she had, that told her she was right. She had been a fighter her entire life, from individual combats to grand melees, and her instincts had kept her alive even when her considerable skill alone could not. She trusted herself, and she knew someone else was there.

That was why, when she finished searching the last room on the ground floor, she was surprised to find nothing. All of the windows and doors were secure. Many of them had been in rooms that had stood unused for some time, and the undisturbed dust made it clear that nobody had passed through them. It had not been a noise, as such, that had alerted her to her invader’s presence, but it raised the question of how the invader could have invaded in the first place.

Having secured the ground floor, Darah carefully climbed the sole staircase to the upper floor and continued her search. The first four rooms were completely clear, and their windows were all still latched and unbroken. It was unlikely that any intruder would have been able to access the second story windows from outside, but she had to check. The fifth upstairs room she checked was a storage room of sorts, with several pieces of old furniture covered in large sheets to protect them from the dust. She checked this room carefully before she decided that it, too, was clear.

As she was leaving the room, however, she froze, and then dropped to a fighting crouch. Again, it was not a sound that tripped her senses, just a vague awareness that she was not alone. Darah spun around and cast her lantern light back across the room. It still looked empty, and there was still no sound and no movement in the room. Despite what she could see, though, Darah was sure. Finally, she decided that directness was her usual path to victory in the arena, and it would, perhaps, work for her now.

“I know you are in this room,” Darah said confidently. “Show yourself. If you have come to challenge me, then get to it. If you have come to steal from me, I have plenty to spare, so take what you need and be gone.”

Darah stood there in the doorway for several long seconds before she heard it, the first noise she had heard from her mysterious visitor. It was the sound of an audible gulp.

Then, a small section of the far wall seemed to ripple and peel away from the rest of the wall. The shimmering form took a cautious step toward the center of the room, and then began to solidify. Darah, for all her training and experience, could not hide her confusion and horror at the form standing in front of her. It looked like a gigantic lizard, nearly as tall as she was, that resembled the tiny chameleons she would play with as a youth. It was incredibly thin, and was holding its two foreclaws high and close to its chest, as if trying to curl in on itself protectively.

“What the hell are you?” Darah asked, shocked by the creature in front of her. Surely, nothing like this creature had ever been seen elsewhere in the world.

“I…” it said, shocking Darah further. She did not imagine the creature could speak. “I was about to ask you that.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your…your scales!” The beast said. “What happened to them? Has some cruel warlord removed them? How did you survive?”

“What are you talking about? And how the hell did you get into my house?”

“I don’t know, I swear!” The creature held out its clawed hands in what Darah assumed was a gesture of peace, or at least one saying ‘please don’t kill me.’ “The last thing I remember, I was in Eshgar, sneaking through the palace of the warlord Fangash, and then…”

“I’ve never heard of any of those things,” Darah interrupted. “And there have been no warlords on Zabisce since the time of the Empress’s grandmother at least.”

“Empress? What is an empress?”

“You dare to insult our Empress?” Darah took a threatening step forward, and the creature curled in and turned slightly away.

“I mean no offense!” The lizard said hurriedly. “Forgive me, but I have never heard that word before.”

“Never heard the word? What the hell are you?”

“I…” the lizard began, then hesitated. When Darah raised her mace slightly in preparation for a threat, the lizard seemed almost to deflate, as if resigning itself to something. “I am a spy.”

“What is a spy?” Darah asked.

“What is…” the creature started, then stopped, exacerbated. “Spies are everywhere. All of the warlords are constantly…” he paused again, connecting everything Darah had said. “By the Hatchers,” he breathed. “Zabisce. You said ‘no warlords on Zabisce.’ What is Zabisce?”

“Are you mad? Are you so lost that you don’t even know the world?”

The lizard’s shoulders slumped even further. “I fear not,” he said, and then, strangely, fell down into a sitting position on the floor. “Zabisce is not my world.”

“What do you mean?”

The chameleon man shook his head. “I don’t know how this could happen. The name of my world is Elde.”

“Another world? That’s not possible. It’s not…” Darah stopped then. It wasn’t possible, she knew. But then again, she also knew that this Chameleon man was similarly impossible. And, as little sense as it made to her, the existence of the former would explain the existence of the latter. Further, the existence of the latter, which she could see with her own eyes, confirmed the possibility of the former. For the first time since she had detected the creature’s presence, Darah lowered her mace. “What is your name?”

He looked up at her. Tears seemed to be threatening his bulbous eyes. “I do not have a name.”

“What?” Darah asked. “How could you not have a name?”

He hung his head. “I was on my final lowling mission. Had I returned from Fangash’s successful, I would have earned my name. But now…”

He trailed off, but Darah could hear the heartbreak in his voice. She had no idea what he was talking about, but clearly, it meant a great deal to the lizard. “How will you get home?” She asked, surprised by the concern in her voice.

The nameless lizard shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I got here. I don’t… I don’t know…”

Finally, the reality of his situation seemed to crash in on him, and he covered his face and began to cry. It was an extremely surreal sight for Darah, seeing a creature who should not even exist weeping for the loss of a life she could not understand. For a long time, Darah did not know what to say. Eventually she repeated her question about spies, if for no other purpose than to get him talking again. After he explained it, she asked him what his mission was.

“Fangash is a powerful warlord,” he explained. “He has many underlings, and they are constantly struggling to be his favored officer. One of those underlings hired me to spy on Fangash himself to see who had his ear, and discover a way to improve his own standing.”

This struck Darah’s interest. It reminded her of the politics of those serving their Empress. They played a game similar to the one this lizard described with the warlords. But, of course, they had no spies, because spies did not exist on Zabisce. In fact, only one person in the entire world had even ever heard of them. Darah had been thoroughly defeated in that game, but perhaps she had found herself a weapon that would allow her to fight again. Perhaps the favor of the Empress was not as far beyond her reach as she had thought.

“Maybe you and I could make a deal,” she said to him. “You’re lost on a strange world with no way to get home and likely no way to survive. I could help you.”

“And in return?”

“I might have a problem that you are uniquely able to help me solve.”

The lizard seemed to consider this. “Before we strike any sort of agreement, you need to know one thing. I do not kill. I gather information. In certain situations, I may even plant some. But I will never take a life, no matter how much I may owe you mine.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Darah said. “If I kill anybody, I will do it face to face with my enemies, and I will do it myself.”

“I can appreciate that,” the lizard said, thinking. “Very well. I will accept your offer, with one understanding. I will be trying to return to my home, if I am able. If I succeed, I will consider our agreement null.”

“Null, you say?” Darah said. “I like that. I believe that is what we will call you, if it suits you as a name.”

The lizard shrugged. “I have no true name until I return to my home, and even then. Null is as good as any other name for our purposes.”

“Good. I’m Darah, by the way.”

“Darah,” Null repeated. “Very well, Darah. We have a deal.”

“Excellent. Then let’s get some dinner.”

“M-Miss Red?”

Jackie DeCoeur turned her head. She was sitting in a high-backed chair in the parlor of her ranch, sipping some of the new whiskey Sharps had just carted in that day. As she turned her head, she saw standing in the doorway the more important portion of Sharps’ most recent cargo. She was a small, human girl, smaller than her age would suggest, likely due to malnourishment early in her life. Jackie had to bite back a wave of anger at the ones who should have, but did not, provide for her. The girl, who called herself Slue, was standing with her hands behind her back. Her head was lowered but her eyes were up, trying to but not quite succeeding in meeting Jackie’s.

“Oh, hey,” Jackie said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Jackie joked, flashing her golden smile. Unfortunately, the joke seemed to have the opposite effect, as Slue’s eyes widened in fear and concern. Jackie maintained her smile for the sake of the girl, but inwardly, she cursed herself. Sometimes, she just forgot how the new ones were, especially around her. They came from lives where they had every reason to fear, and were not yet used to a place where they didn’t have to.

“Come on in,” Jackie said, as cheerfully as she could. “Are you hungry?”

The little blonde girl shook her head and stared for a while, then lowered her eyes to the floor. “Miss Red, I…I was…um…” she stopped, shook her head again, and then said. “Nothing. Sorry, Miss Red.” Then she left, walking backwards away until she was out of sight.

When she was gone, Jackie nodded solemnly. She would open up, in time. It was early yet, and everyone at the ranch would be there for her.

The same scene, or one very similar, was repeated for the next four nights. Each time, Jackie greeted Slue even more warmly than the night before, but Slue never seemed to get any closer to whatever question or statement she wanted. During the day, she seemed to be settling in alright. The kids took to her well enough, and she started in on chores without even being asked. She seemed like a somber child, but many did at Red’s Ranch, at least in the beginning. Even so, at times Jackie still caught her smiling or even laughing at something someone said or did, but always her eyes would sink again and her smile would fade away.

On her fifth full day at the ranch, Slue accidently broke a jar of brambleberry jam. She was sweeping up the kitchen floor, trying to be helpful, but she was so small and the broom was long, and the jam had been left out on the table by another kid. Jackie hadn’t been in the kitchen when it happened, but by the time she got there, Slue was inconsolable. The oldest of the kids were trying as hard as they could, telling her that everything was okay, but she was wailing like a ghost. When Jackie had entered the room, Slue’s tears changed into shrieks and she ran as fast as she could back to her room.

Jackie had spoken to her for nearly an hour through her bedroom door. The door had no lock on it, but Jackie made no attempt to open it. Instead, she just spoke to Slue through the door. She told her that it was alright. She told her that it was an accident. She told her that she was not in any trouble at all, and that nobody was upset, and that Slue could come out if she wanted to. Eventually, the shrieks turned back to wailing, and the wailing to sobs, and ultimately, the sobs to silence. She did not come out while Jackie was there, but she did resurface, silently, for dinner.

That night, Slue did not come to Jackie’s parlor. There was a part of Jackie that wanted to go to Slue’s room and make sure she was alright, but she knew she had had a tough day. She sipped her whiskey quietly, thinking about the young girl, and decided that she would speak to her tomorrow.

The next morning, Slue did not come out for breakfast. At first, through the chores and chaos of early morning, Jackie did not have time to worry about it. But as midday approached and still nobody had seen her, Jackie grew concerned, and finally, about an hour before noon, she went to Slue’s door and knocked.

There was no answer.

Jackie knocked again, and again there was no answer, and finally Jackie just opened the door. Although her bed was neatly made, Slue was not inside, and the window was wide open. Jackie did not waste any time, but instead bolted to the kitchen and flung open the pantry door. She scanned the rows of supplies, checking them against her mental inventory and realized, to her dismay, that nothing was missing.

Slue had run away, and had not even taken any food with her. She would not make it far.

Jackie quickly called to one of the oldest kids at the ranch and told them to saddle up her acridian. Jackie quickly filled a few waterskins and dressed for travel, and in almost no time, she was ready to go, riding hard in the direction of Fortune’s Folly, the only direction that the girl could have gone. The day was hot, sweltering, in fact, with almost no wind to break the heat. If there was any mercy to the lack of wind it was that Slue’s tracks were exceedingly easy to follow.

At first, those tracks led in a straight line. After a while, though, they started to stagger in one direction and then another, and Jackie had to set her jaw against the story she was telling herself of Slue’s journey. Under the hot Jakkard sun, the exhausted little girl was starting to lose it. She had no food, and in all likelihood no water. Jackie just hoped that she had at least brought something to cover her face and head, or else it might already be too late.

Jackie had been riding for about an hour when she caught sight of the girl. She was moving very slowly and staggering significantly, but at least she was still standing. Jackie rode up to within a short distance of Slue and then reined her insect to a halt. She swung down and sprinted toward the child, overtaking her and dropping down to one knee in front of her. Slue was too exhausted to even be surprised by the appearance of the red-eyed woman. She had, mercifully, covered her head with a thin sheet, but her face was red and sunburnt.

Jackie laid both of her hands, as gently as possible, on the little girl’s shoulders. “Slue, are you alright?”

The little girl just nodded. She did not cry, but Jackie suspected that she was too dehydrated to do so. That reminded Jackie to pull out one of the waterskins and give it to Slue, who took it and started drinking as fast as she could. Once she had as much water as she could stand for the moment, she sheepishly handed it back to Jackie. They stayed there for a few long moments under the unforgiving sun before Jackie smiled widely.

“So, do you wanna talk about it?”

Slue lowered her head, and shook it.

“I want you to know something,” Jackie said. “You can leave the Ranch any time you want. That’s your home if you want it to be, but it’s not a prison and it sure as all hells ain’t an orphanage. And if you decide to leave, Slue, you can always come back. You hear me? You can always come back.”

After a long moment, Slue nodded again.

“So, do you wanna talk about it?” Jackie repeated.

Slue took longer to respond than last time, but still she shook her head.

Jackie nodded. “Well, do you mind if I ask you one question? Those nights when you came to ask me something. What did you want to ask me?”

Despite her dehydration, tears started to well up again. Still, to Jackie’s surprise, she answered. “I…wanted to ask if…if you would read me a bedtime story.”

“A bedtime story?”

The girl sniffled and nodded, and then moved to pull the small pack from around her shoulders. She opened it, and withdrew an old picture book, dropping the pack to the ground. Jackie took the book and looked at the title, The Cobbler’s Daughter. The cover, worn and faded, had a picture of an old Nog shoemaker working while his daughter, wearing dark glasses, sat nearby, looking off to the side.

“I used to ask my mama to read it to me every night. A lot of nights, she would. But when…” she paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “When I was a bad girl, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even answer me when I asked. She’d just…ignore me. When Mama ignored me, I knew I’d been a bad girl.”

She lowered her head even further and clutched the book tightly against her body. “One day, Mama stopped answering me at all. I kept asking her through her door, but she…never answered me again. After that, Pa took care of me. And every night, I’d ask him through his door if he’d read me a bedtime story, but…I guess I’m a bad girl. He…never answered me.”

Jackie pulled the girl in and embraced her, and she cried softly on Jackie’s shoulder. “What happened then?” Jackie asked.

Slue rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “One day, the sheriff came to the house. He told me that Pa…Pa was shot, at the saloon. The saloon keeper knew him, ‘cause he was there every night, they said, from just after dinner ‘til closing, so they knew he had a daughter at home. The sheriff found out I had no more family, and they took me away, and brought me to the sisters.” She shuddered, and Jackie shuddered with her. “The sisters…never read to me. I…I’m a bad girl.”

“First off,” Jackie said, pulling the girl away so that she could look her in the eyes, “you’re not. Second, even if you are, it’s ‘cause you wanna be. At the Ranch, I’ll help you be as good or as bad as you want to be. Third, if you want to, we can go back there, and tonight, even though I’m not exactly the strongest reader, I will read you your bedtime story as many times as you need me to.”

Slue almost tackled Jackie as she moved back in for another hug, which she held for a long time. Then finally, she said, “Miss Red, do you…do you think we can go home now?”

Jackie flashed her golden smile. “I’d like that,” she said.

Slue pulled away and grinned, then reached down, picked up her pack, and carefully slipped her book back into it. She slung it over her shoulders again, took the waterskin back from Jackie, and then followed the red-eyed woman back to her acridian. As Jackie lifted the child onto the saddle and started riding back toward the Ranch, she thought that she’d rarely been so glad she could read.