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Wednesday
raised
a
bushy
eyebrow
.
"
Mad
Sweeney
gave
me
a
golden
coin
,
back
when
he
showed
me
how
to
do
that
trick
.
From
what
he
said
,
he
gave
me
the
wrong
coin
.
What
he
gave
me
was
something
more
powerful
than
what
he
thought
he
was
giving
me
.
I
passed
it
on
to
Laura
.
"
Wednesday
grunted
,
lowered
his
chin
to
his
chest
,
frowned
.
Then
he
sat
back
.
"
That
could
do
it
,
"
he
said
.
"
And
no
,
I
can
’
t
help
you
.
What
you
do
in
your
own
time
is
your
own
affair
,
of
course
.
"
"
What
,
"
asked
Shadow
,
"
is
that
supposed
to
mean
?
"
"
It
means
that
I
can
’
t
stop
you
from
hunting
eagle
stones
or
thunderbirds
.
But
I
would
infinitely
prefer
that
you
spend
your
days
quietly
sequestered
in
Lakeside
,
out
of
sight
,
and
,
I
hope
,
out
of
mind
.
When
things
get
hairy
we
’
ll
need
all
hands
to
the
wheel
.
"
He
looked
very
old
as
he
said
this
,
and
fragile
,
and
his
skin
seemed
almost
transparent
,
and
the
flesh
beneath
was
gray
.
Shadow
wanted
,
wanted
very
much
,
to
reach
out
and
put
his
hand
over
Wednesday
’
s
gray
hand
.
He
wanted
to
tell
him
that
everything
would
be
okay
—
something
that
Shadow
did
not
feel
,
but
that
he
knew
had
to
be
said
.
There
were
men
in
black
trains
out
there
.
There
was
a
fat
kid
in
a
stretch
limo
and
there
were
people
in
the
television
who
did
not
mean
them
well
.
He
did
not
touch
Wednesday
.
He
did
not
say
anything
.
Later
,
he
wondered
if
he
could
have
changed
things
,
if
that
gesture
would
have
done
any
good
,
if
it
could
have
averted
any
of
the
harm
that
was
to
come
He
told
himself
it
wouldn
’
t
.
He
knew
it
wouldn
’
t
.
But
still
,
afterward
,
he
wished
that
,
just
for
a
moment
on
that
slow
flight
home
,
he
had
touched
Wednesday
’
s
hand
.
The
brief
winter
daylight
was
already
fading
when
Wednesday
dropped
Shadow
outside
his
apartment
.
The
freezing
temperature
when
Shadow
opened
the
car
door
felt
even
more
science
fictional
when
compared
to
Las
Vegas
.
