"Whoa! Wait a minute. He was mute?"

Tulio had his mouth open to keep talking, but gave up on the words with a sigh. "Well, obviously not... I mean, you can't get him to shut up, nowadays," he said. "I had no way of knowing that at the time, though."

"Then... how-"

But he cut Chel off. "Just... just... just let me tell the story okay?"

"Like... he doesn't speak Spanish?"

"No." Her fist in my shirt was starting to crush my chest. "Like, he doesn't speak at all."

"I... uh... well..." I had no idea how to react to that. This kid, Miguel, who I had beaten up, been saved by, saved myself, and now began to consider a friend... was mute? I stared at him with my mouth open and he hung his head in a gesture of shame.

I almost forgot about the girl with the knife until she slammed me against the wall again. "Ow!" I cried.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

She snarled then. It was the same look that Miguel had while in the grip of the sailors, and a small part of me realized she had to be his sister or something. However a larger part was more concerned that she was about to stab me. She would have too, if another voice hadn't cut into our little scene just then.

"Samara!" The voice was deep and powerful, much like the man who followed it into the room. He was old and grey haired, but tall and still very muscular under his faded clothes. His sharp brown eyes, the trim cut of his beard, and the way he carried himself all agave the impression of an ex-soldier. "What in the name of God do you think you are doing?"

A women of middle-age came in behind him, but she just sniffed and scowled at the room in general.

The girl was startled, but immediately went on the defensive. "Javier," she said, "This kid, he-"

"Is being held at knife point," he cut her off. "Why are you holding him at knife point?" He was growing louder and higher in cadence, and his eyes were beginning to bug out. I got the impression that he was a normally calm man nearing his breaking point, though I wouldn't know why for awhile.

"He followed Miguel in," Samara answered. "He could be-"

"Stop talking you idiot girl!" He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then pointed at me and said, "You! Who are you?"

"Uh... Tulio?" I really wasn't sure I should be answering the strange man.

"And do you have family?"

"Yes?"

He leveled his gaze back on Samara. "There, you see? If you hurt him, he will go back and tell his family, and they will come for our heads. If you kill him, they will search, and if they find out it was you, they will come for our heads. Either way we will have to leave, and you know why that is not an option."

I didn't know what he was talking about, but it had quite an effect on the girl. Her grip slackened and she said, "I'm sorry, Javier. I didn't think-"

"I know." The old man held his hand out and said, "Let the boy go and give me the knife."

With her head bowed, she complied. The moment the weapon was in his possession he gave her a good cuff upside the head. "Think girl! You must think. This is not a game we are playing."

"I'm sorry. I will." and she sounded sincere.

He then rounded on Miguel. "And you! Sneaking off again? Aside from the danger you put us in, Martin has been asking for you all morning! He is ill enough when you do not make him sick with worry."

Both kids now looked like they were about to cry and Javier, looking ashamed and unsure of what to do, turned his attention to me. "You're name is Tiago, no?"

"It's Tulio." I was getting tired repeating my name.

"Please forgive these two fools for troubling you. They have been through much. You are free to go home now."

"Uh..." Looking back, this was the turning point. The life I've lived diverges from what it could have been at that single cue to exit. Had I taken it things would have been much simpler. I would have gone home, my sense of adventure quashed by that string of bad luck, and I probably would have avoided Goyo from then on for fear of angering more sailors. Eventually I would exist, quietly, never straying far from my family and their provincial life.

Instead I opened my big mouth, and to tell the truth... I don't regret it for a second.

"Do you own this inn?" Seeing as we were in the kitchen, it was an easy assumption that he at least worked there, but I was finally in luck.

"I do," he answered with a raised eyebrow.

I tried to smile the way I saw Goyo do when charming a potential mark. "I happen to be on the run from my father and if you let me hide out here I'll forget this whole thing ever happened."

The eyebrow came back down again. "No."

"What?" I couldn't believe he just shot it down like that! "But you don't have to give me a room or anything. I quiet corner will do fine."

"No." He shook his head to emphasize it. "I am sorry, but it is not possible."

I thought that was it, but then Miguel moved to stand in front of me and made his argument on my behalf by widening his already big eyes and pouting. It was the first time I witnessed 'The Face.' Now let me tell you, 'The Face' works to this day but back when he was a kid, Dios mío! Nothing could stand against it!I swear I watched that man melt.

"Miguel," he said warily, "You know why your little friend can not stay."

Miguel's eyes began to water, making then glisten pitifully. He was pulling all the stops.

With a sigh, Javier relented. "Alright, but only for this night."

Both of us were happy, but Samara looked like she was about to explode. "That's not fare! You always give him what he wants!"

"She's right, my love." That was the woman who had come in with Javier. I forgot about her. "Now is not the time to spoil the child." I took a good look at her now. She was beautiful, tall with a slender waist draped in faintly reddish cloth, rich brown hair just barely flecked with grey, and a finely featured face. Yet her grey eyes were hard as daggers, and her mouth was lined with frowning. Two seconds of observation and I didn't like nor trust this woman.

Javier smiled and said, "Ne, Delora, Samara. Could you say no to that?" He gestured at the still pouting Miguel.

Samara shot the boy a dark glare, but her eyes quickly softened and she looked away with a, "Hmph!"

With a sniff, the woman swept from the room in all her dramatic glory.

Now that all of that was over, Javier was much calmer. He said, "Now then, Miguel, go see Martin and ease his worrying heart. Samara, I want you to tend to this boy's arms, and then take him to Miguel's room. You can do as wish after that."

"My arms?" as asked, confused. I looked at them and realized they were still scraped up and looking worse then ever. They started to throb again.

"Yes," he answered. "I will not have you bleeding all over my home. Now I must go back to work."

I was then left alone with the blond hellion who had tried to kill me only minutes before. I gulped. Why was she smirking at me like that?

Some time later I climbed a creaky, narrow staircase after Samara while rubbing my bandaged and smarting arms and trying to ignore her satisfied humming. On the landing there were two doors: one that was closed and one slightly ajar. She went to the open one and gestured for me to enter.

"You can sleep on the floor or something in here," she said before she took off back downstairs.

The room was a small, but bright as the afternoon sun poured through a single open window. It was a sort of attic, filled mostly with sacks of dried beans and spare pots, but against the outside wall opposite the door was a bed with one lumpy cushion and a pile of threadbare blankets thrown haphazardly across it. Here and there was more evidence that a boy lived in here. On a shelf was a carved wooden horse and a painted top. a beat up old mandolin was propped up inside of a pot. Clothing was strewn about, and some amateurish charcoal drawings were pinned to the wall. There was even a book on the floor.

Miguel wasn't there, so I figured he must still be with that Martin person. I waited quietly as the sun shifted in the sky, but soon I began to yawn. All of the excitement and near death of the day had left me exhausted, so I did as Samara suggested, pulled one of the blankets off the bed, curled up on it, and fell asleep.

Note: Javier is pronounced Ha.vier, and Martin is Mar.teen.