Chapter 37
Viv and Gallina slipped quietly out of The Perch in the crisp hour before dawn, the cool air thick with the scent of wet sand and damp driftwood.
It was clear, the previous day’s fog settled offshore or hunkered down in the northern hills.
The moon was a huge silver coin above, haloed in a phantom of its own light.
Viv tried to let go of the anxiety that had kept her up half the night.
She’d shared her plans with Brand, probably to the point of annoyance, in case Rackam returned while she was away.
The thought that she’d miss their arrival while she was off gallivanting after some local pests was almost more than she could stand.
Behind that was the concern that kept nipping at her day after day—that they wouldn’t show up at all. Neither potential reason for such an outcome was one she wanted to examine.
With the book in Iridia’s keeping and Satchel coming along, she’d convinced herself that Fern and Maylee would be in no real danger.
Mostly convinced.
“Can’t believe you’re bringin’ both,” said Gallina with a snort, keeping her voice hushed.
Viv shrugged, feeling Blackblood shift against her shoulders and tapping the pommel of her saber. “Terrain matters. Better to have options.” Satchel’s bag jostled against her hip.
Gallina rolled her eyes but didn’t argue as they hoofed it down to the main road where it emerged from the long lines of clapboard buildings closer to the beach.
“You’re sure they’ve got a mule?” asked Viv. “I don’t want to walk the whole damn way.”
“Yeah, yeah, unless they didn’t listen. I know. No horses.”
There were two mules, in fact. They stood hitched to a short wagon, lipping dispiritedly at the few sprigs of beach grass in reach. A long-legged sea-fey waited on the buckboard while finishing his breakfast, a lantern beside him.
“You know where we’re goin’?” Gallina called up to him.
“Yep,” he said, licking his fingers and picking up the reins. “Need a hand up?”
“Not likely,” replied Gallina. She tossed a small travel bag into the back, leaping nimbly after it, and Viv followed.
A few sacks of grain awaited them as seating, piled toward the fore.
Viv unbelted her weapons, and they both sat.
When Viv reached over to rap the buckboard, the driver flicked the reins, and they got moving.
By unspoken agreement, it was too early for conversation. Viv passed Gallina one of the day-old biscuits she’d tucked into her jacket, and they ate in companionable silence.
For a while, the only sounds were the snort of the mules, the occasional slap of leather, and the rattle and bump of the wagon. Eventually, those were joined by the growl of Gallina’s stomach.
“Gnomish metabolism, huh?” asked Viv.
Gallina shoved a hand into her travel bag and withdrew a hard sausage. Then she remembered the shared biscuits and grudgingly fished out another to offer to Viv. After a pause, Gallina slipped one of the knives from her bandolier and passed it over too.
Viv took them both, but made no move to eat. “You ever done this before?”
“Rode in a cart?” Gallina rolled her eyes.
“Hunted beasts.”
The gnome opened her mouth for a fast retort, but then closed it again. Instead, she pared a slice from her sausage and popped it into her mouth. She took her time chewing, and then mumbled, “Sort of.”
Viv thought of the way Gallina had grilled her about Maylee back on the bluff.
“What happened?”
Gallina regarded her fiercely. “I can do this job just fine. I—”
“Never said you couldn’t.” Viv forestalled her with a hand. “You asked what happened to me once, and I told you. Only fair I ask the same. Equals, yeah?”
“Shoulda made you bring a book. Then you coulda read me to sleep instead.”
“What did you do before Murk?”
The gnome studied her sausage with great animosity. “Joined up with a couple of mercs I ran into in Cardus. At least, I thought I did. I guess I didn’t make a big impression on ’em.”
Gallina waited defiantly for a jibe from Viv that never came.
“We were huntin’ a bunch of thieves. Kinda half-assed thieves.
If you’re gonna steal somethin’, why a bunch of scrolls?
Anyway, they were camped in this tangle of woods south of the city, so we head out and set up a camp of our own.
The forest is big, and we gotta cover as much ground as we can to find ’em fast. So, we split up, the four of us, and do some scoutin’. ”
She stopped talking and weighed how much to say. Viv let her.
“So I’m doin’ my thing, stayin’ out of sight, headin’ east beside this old dry river gully.
A deep one. And the ground just …” She made a whooshing noise and waved her sausage.
“Right out from under me, and down I go. Pretty beat up when I hit the bottom. And I can’t climb out.
It’s hard stone and straight up. So instead, I’m followin’ this thing and lookin’ for a slope.
But you know what likes livin’ in old dry riverbeds like that? ”
“Something that likes to hunt things that can’t get away,” said Viv.
“Rocktoads. The poisonous ones. A whole bunch of ’em. Course, I did all right, didn’t I?” Gallina patted the knives across her chest. “But it was night again before I found my way out.”
“And?”
“And by then I figured I should just head back to camp, see what’s what. But they were gone, all three of ’em. Camp struck.”
“They didn’t even wait a day?”
Gallina didn’t look at her, but at the hills receding behind the wagon. “I hike my ass back to Cardus, and there they are, countin’ out the bounty. They rounded up the thieves while I was runnin’ and killin’ toads. Didn’t really need me, I guess. Probably forgot I was even there.”
Viv watched her face. The sausage lay in the gnome’s lap, uneaten.
“Fucking bastards,” said Viv sincerely.
Gallina sniffed and wiped her nose. “Well, it wasn’t all bad. Turns out some people pay a lot for toad tongues.”
Viv reached over and squeezed her shoulder.
Then they both sat back and finished their sausages.
When they were done, Viv breathed deep and let the cold air curl down in her lungs and watched the night wick away from the countryside.
She idly ran a thumb along Blackblood’s fuller, thought about what was to come, and felt as though she were emerging from the fog of a weeks-long dream.
When they arrived at the farmer’s holding, the sun was up, and ribbons of mist were burning off the lowlands in the dawning heat.
The farm consisted of a cottage, a jumble of outbuildings and fenced paddocks, a long, thatched barn, and a sizable garden, all encircled by fields filled with hayricks.
Bastion oak crowded the slopes up out of the valley.
They heard the bleat of waking sheep, anxious for their morning fodder, and a dog delivered big echoing barks across the breadth of the valley.
The farmer was out on a stool when the mules trundled to a stop in the big looping turnout before the cottage. Even seated, Viv could tell she was tall. Lean and hard, with a tangle of handsome gray hair, she puffed on a pipe in one hand, waving them in with the other.
“So, a Murkie finally decided to take a peek?” she asked around the pipestem.
Viv and Gallina vaulted out of the wagon and stretched.
The farmer looked them up and down, gaze settling on Viv as she strapped the greatsword and saber back on. “Meg,” she said by way of introduction.
“Hey, Meg,” said Gallina, flashing the bounty sheet. “Still havin’ trouble? My ass hopes we didn’t ride down here for nothin’.”
The farmer laughed with an edge of bitterness as she got to her feet. “Aye, that I am. Have to keep the flock close, and don’t dare take them to the south pastures. Now, they’re comin’ up around the place after dark. Nothing I can do but bar the door, keep the dog in, and wait it out.”
“They’re taking sheep at night?” Viv studied the paddocks, the jackleg fences still intact. “Are you fixing the fences when they bust through?”
“They don’t come every night, but often enough. And when they do, I’m always a few head shy in the morning. Funny thing, the fences are always fine. They must be leapin’ over.” She shook her head.
“Blood?”
“Not usually.”
Viv frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a spineback.”
“You’ve seen ’em?” Gallina asked Meg.
“Once or twice. I think there’s a nest near the meadow two hills south. And that sound they make? Like rocks rubbin’ together? You don’t soon forget that.”
“All right,” said Viv. “Point us in the right direction, and we’ll see what we can do. Can our driver stay here with you?”
Meg nodded. “Tea’s on,” she called to the sea-fey.
Viv stared south at the hills and stands of bastion oak and, presumably, the meadow beyond. She had seen—and slain—her fair share of spinebacks, and her skepticism was growing by the second.
When they had passed beyond the first line of oak, Viv called a halt and unslung the leather bag.
Setting it on the ground, she fished inside for one of the bottles, popped the cork between her teeth, and dusted Satchel’s bones with a few gentle taps of a forefinger.
As she resealed the phial, Satchel assembled himself in a pearlescent rush, flushing with crisp blue light as consciousness bloomed in his eye sockets.
“I don’t know why I’m worried about this,” said Viv, hiking the bag over her shoulder again and rising to her feet. “What’s anything going to do to you?”
“I assure you, there’s no cause for concern.” His hollow voice held no doubt.
“I guess. Although in my experience, spinebacks like to crack bones between their teeth.” She clenched her fist demonstratively. “I feel guilty that you don’t have a weapon or something.”
Satchel flourished a hand, and the phalanges narrowed to long, wicked points.
Gallina whistled. “Well, I’m convinced.”
They trooped together over a set of low hills, with more mountainous terrain humping up to their left, stitched with scattered copses of oak. A rumpled spread of pastureland appeared as they topped a rise. The meadow grass was high and still dewy.