“Ale, then!” Billos slapped his hand on the counter. He knew ale, of course, but he didn’t know how putting a light inside of it might affect its taste. He’d tasted Horde ale once and had nearly thrown up. Hopefully this so-called “light ale” wasn’t as bad.

“Ale,” the man said, dipping his head once.

“You have no women in this village?” Billos asked, walking around the counter, looking for their hidden weapons.

“The village is full of women. All taken, I would say.”

He walked up to a tall glass box, glowing red and blue with a picture of gold plates on the front. It read Jukebox and emanated the strangest music he’d ever heard. No sign of musicians.

A man began to sing from within the box, and Billos stopped. A man is hiding in the box, singing. What kind of strategy is this? Three men behind him now; one hidden in the box, singing to draw his attention.

Crafty, but he wouldn’t let on that he was aware of their ploy.

“One ale,” the server said.

Billos returned to the counter and lifted the mug of amber ale. “Thank you.”

“Name’s Steve,” the man said, sticking out his hand.

Billos took it. “Billos,” he said.

“Glad to meet you, Billy. This here’s Chris and Fred.”

“Billos,” Billos repeated, then remembered that Black had called him Billy as well. “Billy. Billy is fine.” He nodded at the others, who watched him cautiously and dipped their heads.

“What brings you to Paradise?” the one called Steve asked.

Black, Billos wanted to say. “Johnis,” he said instead, hoping to catch the man off guard.

“Johnny? Johnny Drake?”

“You’ve heard of him?” Billos asked.

“He was through here a few months ago and then disappeared. You friend or foe to Johnny?”

“Friend, of course.”

“Then I suggest you find Samuel. But we don’t want any trouble. We’ve had our share.”

There was trickery afloat here. He’d already found Samuel, who was clearly the enemy. And that put Johnis and maybe the rest of them in the same camp. Like Black had said, conspirators who pretended to be your friends.

“Do you read books here?” he asked.

The man glanced at the others again, this time unsure.

“Books. Sure. Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? What kind of books, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The man in the jukebox stopped singing.

“All kinds of books,” Steve said. “You sure you’re okay?”

Billos saw them then, all three Books of History sitting high on a bookshelf behind the counter next to some old bottles, as if they’d been there for some time.

He felt his muscles tense, then immediately removed his eyes from the shelf and forced himself to relax. This could only be the final confirmation that Black was right about Paradise. He might actually be in Teeleh’s lair as it appeared in history.