Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(13)

“Oh. Uh, what do I owe you?”

“We’ll see.”

And then he was off and rolling again.

Viv blinked at his departure. “Well … thanks!” she called after him, but he didn’t turn back.

“See you at noon,” she said to herself, shaking her head.



* * *



Viv stepped into The Perch anticipating a leisurely lunch at the table she was coming to think of as hers. She’d been looking forward to dipping into Heart’s Blade and figuring out if Fern was teasing her or not. Instead, she found the bottom floor absolutely packed.

Apparently, Brand’s inn was well known to the passengers and crew of the docked frigate, because they all seemed to be there. It was louder than she’d ever heard it, thick with chatter and the occasional bellow of laughter. Her table had even been commandeered—although there were two open chairs there.

Any time before this week, the atmosphere would’ve been welcome. A beer and some food and conversation might’ve been just the thing. But with a book in hand, and a surprising interest in cracking it, she felt properly thwarted. She supposed she could go upstairs to her room, but …

Sidling through a crowd with a crutch caused more than a few bumped shoulders, and she mumbled apologies that were lost in the hubbub. But her natural size helped some as she approached her preferred table.

Her favorite chair—the one that faced the rest of the room—was occupied by a gnome with a look about her that Viv had seen plenty of times before.

She had to be younger than Viv by at least a few years. A pair of goggles held back her spiky orange hair, and a set of bare-bladed knives gleamed on her bandolier. Hardly bigger than a human child, her head didn’t clear the tabletop by much. Clad in fingerless gloves, her hands toyed with the copper mug in front of her, and she didn’t seem to be eating.

“Hey,” said Viv with a forced smile. “Any chance I could convince you to swap so I could sit in that chair? Easier to be out of the way with the leg.” She patted her thigh lightly.

The gnome eyed her up and down. Viv recognized the look of a new recruit with something to prove. Unfortunately. “After I’m gone, you’re welcome to it,” she said with exaggerated indifference. The girl ran a finger around the rim of her mug, very slowly.

Viv’s eyes narrowed, and she breathed in hard through her nose. Then with great deliberation she laid her book on the table and dragged out the empty chair, raking it across the floorboards with a squeal. She didn’t break eye contact with the gnome as she eased into the seat and swung her stiff leg around to the side.

A smile teased the gnome’s lips, and Viv had to deliberately unclench her fists and lay them flat on the table.

Doing her best to shake off her irritation, she figured she’d dive into Heart’s Blade while waiting for the tavern kid to make his way over. It’d probably take a while, given the crowd. Also, it seemed like an excellent way to ignore someone while they were sitting right in front of you.





CHAPTER ONE


The steel that brought them together was the steel that kept them apart. Or possibly, it was the other way around. Like the blade in question, their story has two edges.



It was a simple longsword—nothing elaborate about it. Even so, it was the work of a master bladesmith, perfect in its utility, a burnished blue that made one think of evening fog on the river.



Tamora wielded it in the spirit that it had been forged. Never flashy, never ostentatious. She drew it, swung it, and sheathed it as part of work done well and right.



She stood on the backboard of the coach as it rumbled through the night, and her broad features were cast in harsh shadows by the lantern light. Tamora kept her eyes fixed on the lane behind them, ever watchful.



Mirrim Stanhood gazed out the small window in the coach door at the dark stripes of trees as they flickered by. She wielded weapons of her own, but they were of another sort, from the finely sculpted ringlets of her hair to the sharp words she slid between the ribs of the unsuspecting.



Lately, she’d been sliding a lot of them into Tamora, who also wouldn’t have minded returning the favor in a much more physical way. Only necessity saw them occupying the same coach.



But when Tamora saw the red glow, and smelled the smoke, she still—



“Whatcha readin’?”

When Viv glanced up, she found the gnome tapping her lips, eyes half-lidded with amusement.

“You don’t care,” Viv said flatly.

“Must be interestin’. I mean, you’re readin’ it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The gnome shrugged. “Oh, nothin’, really. Lookin’ atcha though …” She gestured to Viv with a hand, as though the answer was obvious. “Guess I just figured you’re more of a steelswingin’ sorta gal? Probably gotta be pretty good to catch your attention. Or, I dunno. Short.”

Viv simply stared at her. Usually that was pretty effective.

The gnome didn’t seem to mind. “C’mon, what’s it called?”

“Piss off.”

“Okay, that does sound like a book you’d read.”

“Can I get you anything?” the tavern kid asked breathlessly as he squeezed through the crowd, dirty mugs looped around his knuckles.