Johnis had lost his mind. Silvie knew what he was trying, but she had no confidence he would succeed. She inched her hands to the blade at her side.

“Now, tell me if you’ve ridden the Chevy,” Johnis said before the man could respond.

“The Chevy—yes.”

“Good. Then making it go can’t require too much intelligence. I’ll make you a bet: one gold coin says I can make the Chevy go and leave you standing by your feeding trough before you can stop me.”

Johnis pulled out a roughly hewn gold coin from his pocket, one of five he had on him. Thomas had instituted them as one form of currency in the forests after nuggets of the soft colorful metal had been found in the river near Middle and claimed by the Guard. The chosen had each received twenty coins upon their return from the desert with the Catalina cacti.

He flipped the coin through the air. It landed on the counter with a loud clunk, bounced once, and toppled next to the throater’s hand.

The man exchanged looks with both of them, then picked up the coin. Bit it. Eyed them again. Perhaps Johnis’s ploy was working after all. Thomas’s words during fight school rang in Silvie’s ears: “When you deal with a throater, put on the skin of a throater. They are too stupid to respect anything other than arrogance.”

“Real gold,” the man said, placing the coin on the counter. “You do realize that this one coin is worth more than that Chevy out there. What makes you think I shouldn’t just take this from you now?”

“Because you know that something’s not normal with us. We’re smaller than you and have half your muscle, but we act as though we can wipe the floor with your guts. And we act that way because we know it’s true. Show him, Silvie.”

A dozen thoughts raced through her mind. She grabbed one out of thin air and put as much bite behind it as she could muster.

“I don’t want to hurt the poor fellow,” she said.

Johnis, who now stood a step ahead of her, turned back, and for the first time she saw that his face was red. “Show him. Or do you want me to show him?”

He was furious. Anger was pushing him to confront the man.

“Show him how?” she asked.

“With your knife. Cut off one of his earrings or something! Or should I do it?”

“You’d miss and rip out his cheek! Why the aggression toward me? I’ve done nothing!”

“Then just show him! We walk in here and make a simple request in good spirits, and he treats us like we’re dogs!”