Tally snatched a loaf of bread from a waiter walking by and broke me off a piece. It was hot and soft and reminded me of home, it did, it was just the way Mom would have baked it. That made me sad a little bit, because all of a sudden I missed Mom, I missed our house bakery, I missed even tiny sleepy Collardsville, dump that it was. But now wasn’t the time for pitiful thoughts like that, no sir. I was on a mission to find Pop. He was counting on me. There wasn’t time yet to miss where I came from.

Over in the far corner sat a bunch of bedraggled folks, so tired they weren’t hardly blinking. They just stared off into nothing, their eyes bloodshot and shattered looking.

“What’s wrong with those guys?” I said.

“I’ve heard about this,” said Tally. “They got the wore-outs. It’s when the magic in Parsnit starts to get too much for folks and they can’t leave it alone. They can’t eat or sleep or hardly do nothing. They just want another taste of the game, a bit more of that magic working on them from the cards. It’s a sad state, it is.”

“No kidding,” I said. “I never knew Parsnit had a downside. I mean, apart from witches’ bonds and whatever it was that turned Sinclair into the Creepy.”

“Magic’s always got a consequence,” said Tally. “Granddad used to tell me that all the time.” And she looked sad a minute, like maybe she missed her granddad a little bit, cruel and awful as he was.

“Looking for somebody?” said a portly fella with red cheeks and massive muttonchops.

“Yes sir,” I said. “I’m looking for my pop.” Tally elbowed me in the side, like hush your durn mouth. But what could I do about it? “You don’t work for Boss Authority, do you?”

“’Course not,” said the man. He crossed himself three times and spit on the carpet. “And I got a mind to whoop your scrawny little butt for asking me a question like that.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I just don’t want to get my pop in any more trouble. His name’s David Josiah Pennington, you ever heard of him?”

The man’s eyes went wide and his smile did a little jump. “Your dad is Davey Boy Pennington? Is he here?”

“If I knew the answer to that,” I said, “then I wouldn’t be looking for him.”

“Quite right, quite right,” said the man. He thrust his hand out to me. “Name’s Radegar Kelly.”

“Buddy,” I said.

“I’m Tally,” said Tally, and Radegar bowed.

“Imagine that,” he said “Davey Boy Pennington back in the Swamplands. It might be time for a shakeup here, and let me tell you, that shakeup is rightly due. Boss Authority has ruined this swamp, he has. We are standing in the last free house left.”

“Sorry,” said Tally, “but those folks over there don’t look too free.” She pointed at the half-dead men, sitting there all smelly and foul-clothed and glazy-eyed.