Chapter 34
Many of the volumes were surprisingly colorful, with stenciled or foiled illustrations on the covers.
And Fern was right, the scent of the fresh volumes was intoxicating, so much so that it made Viv a little dizzy.
When she opened one to inspect the fresh print, the spines creaked in a crisp and deeply satisfying way.
“The letters are so clean,” observed Viv.
“New gnomish printers,” said Fern, still grinning ear to ear. “Cheaper to produce and they wear better. Which means I can sell them for less, too.”
Viv and Satchel unpacked the individual books.
Fern made a big production of inspecting each one and created a special pile on the front table according to some unknowable criteria.
The rest she shelved carefully, and as every gap was filled, each row of books fattened with fresh additions.
It was like seeing a wooden puzzle assemble until the scene painted on it became suddenly clear.
In the middle of it all, the door banged open and Gallina trooped in, startling Potroast from his doze in a slab of sunlight. “So they showed, huh?”
“You’re just in time to help,” said Viv, straightening with an armload.
“Nah, I’d just get in the way.” She ran a hand through her spiky hair. “Besides, I can’t reach anything in here. You want me to fall into a crate?”
“You know, your height only comes up when you don’t want to do something. So, why exactly are you here?”
Gallina flopped into a chair. Viv noticed that she had a folded piece of paper in one hand, which she fiddled with self-consciously. “Uh, well. Just thought when you were done doin’ this job you might want to do somethin’ you’re a little more familiar with.”
“What are you talking about?” Viv’s brow wrinkled.
The gnome held the paper up between two fingers. “Bounty. Pay’s not great, but it’s pretty close, I guess. I could do it on my own, o’ course, but I thought maybe if you were bored and not feelin’ too delicate …”
Viv caught Fern’s sidelong look and tried not to sound interested when she said, “Bounty, huh? What sort?”
The gnome twirled a hand. “Spineback nest. South a little ways down the coast. Some farmer’s losin’ sheep to ’em, I guess.”
“A loathsome species,” said Satchel with sudden vehemence, looking up from the stack of books in his bony arms.
Viv glanced at him in surprise. “You’ve spent time around spinebacks?”
“More than I care to relate,” replied the homunculus darkly. His osseoscription momentarily burned a bright blue.
Still wondering at that, Viv replied to Gallina, “Let me think about it.” She passed a book to Fern, who gave her a searching look. “I don’t know if I want to be away for that long.”
What she didn’t voice was her worry that if she left Murk for any length of time, Varine or Rackam would show up the instant she was gone. She couldn’t decide which was more worrisome.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll pay to cart us down, if you wanna go. Don’t wait too long, though. I can’t just sit around coolin’ my heels at The Perch for much longer.”
“Mmm. Just going to take care of it yourself, then?” Viv’s voice was mild. “How many spinebacks did you say?”
“A manageable number,” said Gallina flatly.
Satchel cleared his throat. “If you do decide to deal with those creatures, I may be of some assistance.”
“No offense,” said Gallina, “but I think spinebacks kinda like to crack bones between their teeth?”
“Nevertheless,” he said, and the flames in his eyes flashed like a knot popping in a hearth fire.
“You know, Satchel, the longer I know you, the less I think I know about you,” said Viv. She wondered again what services Varine might have required of him.
As Gallina was getting up to leave, Fern called out, “Oh, that book you wanted should be in here somewhere.”
Gallina looked stricken.
“Uh. Yeah. I’ll get that later, then,” the gnome said in a strangled voice, and hurried out the door.
“Wait, she really did read something? What did she ask for?”
Fern finished shelving the volume in her paws and turned back to Viv, her eyes sharp with humor.
She mouthed one word.
“Moist.”
When they’d finished shelving everything, Viv carted the empty crates out back to keep for later. When she returned, she found Fern arranging the last of the books she’d set aside on the front table.
With the knuckles of one paw to her chin, she contemplated the entire setup and then reached out and swapped two of them.
“Huh. Looks nice,” said Viv. It did. The covers showed well with their fronts out, and Fern had arranged them at artful angles or face up and sometimes rakishly tilted.
There was something modern and immediate about many of the designs. Bold, serifed text in gold or silver, iconography that suggested a dream condensed. Some were covered in marbled cloth with blooms of color like exotic foliage.
Fern studied them with a wistful smile on her lips. “It’s funny. I hate to sell them. Did I ever tell you that? If I could keep them all, I would.”
“Solid business plan.”
The rattkin slapped her on the arm.
“Desert Heat,” said Viv, grinning. “Greatstrider, huh?” She tapped a volume with a very detailed illustration of an orc and a human on the verge of shedding the rest of their clothing and doing something very acrobatic.
A thought occurred to her, and her eyes widened. “Wait, this isn’t Gallina’s, is it?”
“A good bookseller doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“So that’s absolutely a yes. Anyway, when do you want to reopen?”
“Anxious to go spineback hunting?”
Viv shrugged uncomfortably. “That’s not what I meant …”
“I know. I’m fucking with you. Actually, I had an idea, and I wanted to see what you thought about it.” Fern sat in one of the padded chairs and motioned for Viv to join her.
As she sank into the seat, she shot the rattkin a perplexed look. “Not sure why you’d need my opinion.”
“Well, it’s about Maylee. Do you think … do you think she might want to sell some of her scones or biscuits here?”
For a moment, Viv’s thoughts were knocked sideways as she felt the phantom of Maylee’s kiss at the corner of her mouth and an echo of last night’s conversation.
Her face warmed. Then she shook it off. “Easy enough to ask.” She tried a wry grin.
“Just cleaned the place, and now you want crumbs all over, huh?”
“That’s why I have Potroast. But I think there’s something about curling up with a book and something good to eat. And we have the chairs, and, well … I like having somebody in here. Having you in here day in and day out … I like the company.”
“And pretty soon, I’m not going to be here,” said Viv quietly.
Fern shrugged. “Yeah. We’ve gone to all this trouble, so why not make it a place people want to stay, however we can? However I can?”
That shift from “we” to “I” stung more than Viv expected it to. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? When she was gone, she wanted Fern happy and successful, didn’t she? That’s what a friend would want.
She laced her fingers together between her knees and wondered what it said about her that the thought made her bridle.
“I think it’s a great idea.” And then, crushing that feeling down as hard as she could, she cleared her throat and forged on.
“And speaking of Maylee, her idea didn’t seem half bad either. ”
“About trying to get Greatstrider down here? If she showed up on my doorstep, I wouldn’t complain, I’ll admit. But can you see me bobbing on hers, begging her to parade around my shabby little shop like … like some kind of visiting dignitary?” Fern snorted. “I’m not that brave.”
“First, the shop isn’t shabby.” Viv leveled a finger at her. “We painted the shit out of this place. And second, you happen to be sitting across from somebody who makes a habit of charging into things like a damned fool.”
“You’re going to convince her to visit?”
“What if I do?”
Fern considered that. “Well, after I finished kissing you on the mouth, I suppose I’d do my gods-damned best to arrange the finest reopening I could muster.”
Viv slapped her thighs and stood. “Just don’t kiss me in front of Maylee.”
“Mmm, yes. Hard to explain, I imagine.”
“Mind the fort, Potroast,” said Viv, saluting the gryphet.
He hooted at her sleepily, then settled his feathered head back between his paws.
When Viv passed Sea-Song, she spied Maylee’s silhouette through the fogged windows, but she didn’t think the dwarf saw her, which was a relief.
They needed to speak with one another, but she had a few errands she wanted to get out of the way first. Viv felt like a phantom as she left the bakery behind.
She had the surreal sense of setting her affairs in order in case she died.
Making sure things carried on when she wouldn’t be around to see them.
It unnerved her.
Doing her best to shake off that grim feeling, she hiked into the fortress walls to find Iridia.
There were still more Gatewardens about than normal, but their attention had lapsed from the high alert Iridia had once demanded. And no wonder. Necromantic invasions had been notably thin on the ground.
A few questions asked of one of the women posted at the gate sent her in the right direction.
Before tackling that particular task, though, she addressed something much simpler. Just inside the fortress walls, a busy livery had coaches for let and stalls of well-bred horses. The animals shied at her appearance, and she did her best to keep her distance while she searched for the dispatcher.
She secured transport for the following day, paying in advance. With that done, she threaded her way through the tight warren of streets to the Gatewarden’s garrison.
“A symbol?” asked the tapenti when Viv explained why she’d come.
“The same one I told you about, the one on Bal—” She caught herself. “On the dead man’s tattoo.”
Iridia narrowed her eyes at the slip, but she didn’t press.
“Look, you can send someone up to check it out. You can’t miss it. I don’t know what the hells it means, but it’s obviously hers. Maybe it’s just related to whoever killed him? I’m just passing along the information.”
“You know, I can’t help but think that if you’d never come to my town, our friend in gray would have gone about his business, and none of this would be my problem.”
“Or maybe something worse would’ve happened,” said Viv, her temper kindling. She relaxed her fists with an effort. The idea of hunting down a bunch of spinebacks was suddenly very appealing. “I’m just trying to be a good guest in your town.”
Then she took a deep breath and asked the question she’d been trying to figure out how to pose. The one that she had to bring up after her late-night conversation with Satchel. “That book. You’ve still got it? Is it nearby?”
“Near enough,” replied Iridia, cocking her head. “Why? It’s not your problem anymore. You’ve transferred it to me.”
“It, uh, might be important in taking care of Varine if she shows.”
“Do you care to elaborate on that?”
“I … can’t just yet.”
“Of course not.”
“But is it close?”
The Gatewarden smiled thinly, and then turned away, calling over her shoulder as she strolled back into her office, “Tit for tat, Viv. I’ll let you know when you’re feeling more forthcoming.”
Viv waited until the bakery closed and Maylee was taking in the sign that hung on the door. The dwarf blinked at her in surprise, cheeks flushed and flour-flecked.
“Hey, you,” said Viv, with a small wave that felt ridiculous.
“Hey, hon,” replied Maylee. There was nothing reserved in her smile, as open and whole as though Viv hadn’t knelt before her on the boardwalk and bruised everything just the night before.
Viv felt the relieved shame of happiness over a problem deferred. “I had a couple of things to ask you.”
“C’mon inside then.” The baker held the door for her. Viv brought up Fern’s idea and then her own, and it was easy and natural in the yeasty warmth and yellow glow, with the clatter of her assistant cleaning the bowls.
After that, their conversation moved on to other things—stories from the road, the foibles of customers—as Viv helped scrub down the counters and clear the fireboxes. And for a while, the future didn’t matter. And that was fine.