“Yes, but some of the people he freed from jail when the Blight came helped set up the underground. Half the people down here are outlaws, and the other half are outcasts; they like the idea of a lawman who was fair to everyone. And now, Miss Briar is Sheriff Wilkes.” He changed the subject on a dime. “So, do you feel up to coming upstairs? I can always go get Zeke and bring him back, or bring you food if you’re still too weak to manage.”

“I’m not too weak to manage anything,” Rector insisted, though his knees threatened to argue with him. He pushed against them, attempting to leverage himself upright. The first attempt failed. He sat back down and covered for the foible by reaching under the bed to grab his bag. His next effort to rise successfully propelled him into a wobbly, but upright, stance.

“Do you want a cane or a crutch? Something to lean on?”

“Goddamn, you’re helpful. Are you always like this?”

Houjin smiled. It was a peculiar smile. It told Rector that he’d said too much. “I can get you food and water, but only if you can’t get it yourself,” he said carefully.

Rector’s vision spun. He reached out for the headboard and steadied himself.

“Don’t pretend.”

“Don’t pretend what?” Rector asked crossly.

“Don’t pretend you’re sicker than you really are. And don’t pretend you’re any less sick, either. If Miss Mercy sees you, she’ll know. She’ll either send you back to bed, or kick you right out of it.”

“I’m not pretending anything, I’m just getting my feet underneath me. Give me a second, would you? Your Miss Mercy sounds like a holy terror.”

Houjin shook his head. “No, she’s just hard to fool. And while I’m thinking about it, I’ll definitely get you a cane. We have some left over from when Mr. Swakhammer was hurt last year.” He went to one of the cabinets, opened it, and rummaged through several apparatuses that Rector couldn’t identify. Before long, he retrieved a sturdy, polished staff of reddish wood. He almost tossed it toward Rector, who was still teetering, but changed his mind at the last moment and handed it over instead.

“Jesus, Swakhammer must be huge. This thing could hold up a horse.”

“Mr. Swakhammer is a big man. Everyone who lives here is either big and strong, or small and fast. Try the cane. See how it feels.”

“It’s fine,” Rector said, testing his weight against the stick and finding that it could easily hold up three or four of him. “A little heavy.” He took a few steps and his legs quivered slightly, but he liked the feeling of being upright. “Let me ask you, Huey—it was Huey, right?”

“Or Houjin.”

“Huey, got it. Tell me, is there a chamber pot?”