Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(16)

Fern bustled to the counter, shoved a stack of books aside, and set down the loaf she’d bought. She went into the back and returned with a long knife and a muslin-wrapped bundle. Unfolding it beside the bread, she revealed a hard length of sausage and a yellow wedge of cheese that smelled of cream and salt and summer grass.

Without a word, she sawed off slices of bread and piled them with hunks of cheese and discs of sausage, handing them to the two orcs without really looking at either of them. Then she cut a portion for herself and flipped a rind of cheese to the gryphet, who gobbled it down and wagged his tail for more.

Finally, she met their eyes. “Well? Eat!” She took a bite herself and chewed defiantly.

“Uh, are you—” Viv began.

“Eat.”

“Okay, fine.” Viv tore off a corner with her teeth. The bread was, predictably, incredible—sour and soft with a chewy crust that flaked away in the mouth.

Pitts wolfed his down with a slightly hunted look.

Fern cleared her throat. “Thank you both,” she said carefully. She stared hard at Pitts. “Can I interest you in a book?”

Viv didn’t think he looked interested, but Pitts also seemed to recognize the path of least resistance. He reached tentatively for the smallest one he could find, and held it up between thumb and forefinger. It looked even tinier there. “This one?”

“Thorns and Pinions. A very fine book of poetry. It’s yours,” said Fern with a regal nod.

“I … gotta be goin’,” said Pitts. He made a halting bow and backed out of the shop.

Viv watched him depart, smiling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody that terrified of a free lunch.”

Fern was staring at the closed door. She glanced down at her meal, tossed the whole thing onto the floor for Potroast to savage, and promptly burst into tears.



* * *



“Fuck,” sobbed Fern. “What am I doing here? I’m relying on charity to fix a broken board.”

Viv had never felt less equal to the needs of a moment. She ushered the rattkin onto her stool, whereupon the girl folded her arms on the counter and buried her face in them.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad … can it?” mumbled Viv.

Fern’s sigh was watery. “I can’t keep on this way. Not for much longer. Maybe a month.”

“This place has been around a while, right? I’m sure it can last a few more than that.”

The rattkin raised her head to fix Viv with a bleak gaze. “Fifty years. That’s how long it’s been here. My father opened this place. I grew up here. Used to sleep in that shelf over there when I was little.” She pointed to the far corner. “He left it to me when he died, and it’s going to be me that runs it into the fucking ground. Gods, what would he say if he could see?”

Viv awkwardly patted her shoulder. “I don’t know a lot about running a shop, but … what’s changed?”

“Nothing has changed. It’s all the same. Well, that’s not true. It’s all shabbier. Half falling apart. And I guess I’m the main thing that’s different.”

“Uh. Maybe … maybe that’s the problem, then?”

Fern’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not very good at consoling, are you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean you. I mean … doing things the same way.” Viv winced apologetically. “Sorry, this is really not my area.”

The rattkin laughed a little. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re the most interesting customer I’ve had in a month.”

“Wow, that is bad.”

Fern’s weak laugh turned into a hitching snort. When she recovered, she said, “You know, it’s not because I haven’t thought about it. About changing things. But it always seems like there’s no time or money to patch the holes. Just enough to keep tossing water overboard.”

Viv rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, one less hole today. I guess I made that one, though, so it probably doesn’t count as progress.”

Fern shrugged, resting her chin on her crossed arms.

“If you could change something, what would it be?” asked Viv.

The rattkin was quiet for a long time. Viv guessed she wasn’t going to get an answer. Then, “So much. The inventory. Those fucking sea charts. Newer printings. Some paint on the walls. Magically transport the whole place to a city full of bibliophiles.” She glanced at Viv. “What would you change? You’ve got a recent first impression.”

Viv tried to look apologetic. “Uh, the smell? Probably that carpet too.”

“The smell?”

“Yeah, it sort of smells … yellow. And not a good yellow.” She eyed the gryphet. “Kind of like somebody dunked him in a bucket.”

Potroast hooted indignantly and nipped at her boot.

Fern laughed again, then lapsed into silence. After a while, she quietly said, “Thanks for your help today. Thanks for listening to me complain.”

“You’re the only thing keeping me sane around here,” replied Viv. “I’ve got a vested interest.”

The rattkin perked up and her expression cleared. “How’s Heart’s Blade treating you then?”

“Well, I’m …” Viv started to hedge, then thought better of it. “I’m just getting started. I’ll let you know when I finish.”