Faith’s cloud rode the wind faster than Jay could clamber after her. She zipped up cliffs and over divots. He had to search for shallower paths and leap over trenches in the steepening terrain. Soon Jay lost sight of her, but he continued to trudge up the slopes. Occasionally he glimpsed a pinprick of white against the mountainside, but always lost it when the wind whipped it left and right.
Uncle Featherway sat on the only empty stool, next to Dan’s unconscious form slumped across the bar. “Is your friend okay?”
“He could use some time unconscious.” Jay pat Dan on the back. “Mister Featherway, are you ready for our interview?”
“Sure as sure. I’ve got plenty of time until my train comes in.” Uncle Featherway ordered a beer and straightened his tinfoil fedora. “You wanted to hear about Virgil Blue?”
“Yes, please. I recently met the Virgils on the Islands of Sheridan but Virgil Blue never spoke to me.” Jay took out his pen and notepad. “I wondered if you had anything to add to the stoic silence.”