prove

others. At a pub, say, after hours.”
Fergus didn’t answer.
“And, no doubt, one day you found a friend in Goodsir Moon. He bought you drinks and told you, yes, you are as good as they are, but they hate you and laugh at you.”
Fergus felt a flicker of confusion. That was exactly what had happened. “Maybe.”
“They don’t deserve you, Fergus.” Doc’s tone was harsh. “You know, you could do your family a lot of good with just a few more coins every moon.”
The mechanic didn’t answer. His anger was gone, ­replaced by a cold sickness. If he concentrated hard, maybe he could keep from throwing up on Doc’s boots.
Doc stared down at him a long moment. “Alastair, take him to Galt Athelstane at the guard station. Tell them to hold him until his words prove true. Or forever, if they do not.”
* * *
The next evening, Harris and Doc walked

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