Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(17)

“Not enough swords for you?”

“I’m reserving judgment, okay?”

Fern pressed herself back up from the counter and shook out her whiskers. She cut another couple of slices of bread and passed one over.

While Viv chewed, the rattkin surveyed her shop again. “The carpet? Really? I’m so preoccupied with all the bigger problems, I don’t really think about the small things. I guess it could use a good beating.”

Viv swallowed and shook her head. “No. It could use a good burning.”





8





“What in the Eight are you doing here?” Highlark seemed halfway between annoyed and thoroughly surprised. “It’s two days until I’m due to see you at your room.” He glanced up and down the street, as though someone had spirited Viv to his doorstep.

She gave a half-shrug, leaning fully on her crutch. “I figured I’d get out and see the rest of Murk, and once I was here, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. Not really hard to find the place.”

Highlark’s surgery sat near the center of the town snugged within the fortress walls, and everybody knew where it was. The building was tall, narrow, and neatly kept, with flower boxes in both the upper and lower windows, which Viv found oddly amusing. An iron sign in the shape of a healer’s staff and crescent was mounted above the lintel.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you want? You’re caring for the wound daily like I showed you, yes?”

“Yeah, of course. But … well, maybe you could take a look. That callis oil seemed to work pretty well. Maybe I should do that again?”

“Again?” He looked shocked.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t that get me off this crutch faster?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said with an exasperated tone.

Now that he wasn’t wearing a rain cowl, Viv could see the elf cut a fine figure in a crisp white shirt and finely tailored trousers. For some reason, she’d expected him to appear at his door in a bloody smock. She was glad to note that the bruises on his neck were nearly gone.

“I doubt very much that I can offer any other advice until you’ve healed further. And even if I could, it’s clear you wouldn’t pay it any mind. Come in, if you must.” He opened the door the rest of the way and ushered her in with a resigned air.

As Viv entered Highlark’s office, she was surprised to find that it looked more like a bookshop than the real thing. One wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling shelves, complete with rolling ladder. The spines looked to be in excellent condition, gleaming as though oiled.

“Wow,” she said.

A small desk sat before the shelves, piled with notes, folders, an appointment book, and an unlit lantern. She must have interrupted him in his work. It didn’t look much like surgery, as far as Viv was concerned.

Highlark strode past a staircase leading up, and through a white door into the back. Astringent smells assaulted Viv’s nose as she followed into a very different room. Modern flick-lanterns lit the area brightly, their low hiss filling the air. A pair of long, padded tables stood in the center, and the walls were covered in charts, notes, and illustrations. Vast counters with rows and rows of drawers below them ran along every wall. Bottles, boxes, neatly folded linen, and jars of blue fluids stood ready. She even spied several small—but exceptionally detailed—wooden skeletons of various races suspended from metal arms by thread.

“Up,” said Highlark, gesturing to the furthest table. “I suppose you’re saving me a trip. And if you can make your way here once, you can do it again, if the need arises.”

As Viv slid onto the table—she didn’t even have to push herself up—she grimaced and pulled Heart’s Blade out of her back pocket to lay it beside her. Highlark lifted her injured leg and rested her heel on the table opposite.

Without another word, he deftly unwrapped her bandages. When the flesh was exposed, he made an involuntary sound of consternation.

“What?” asked Viv.

Highlark didn’t answer, instead bringing his spectacles up to examine her wounds. He prodded the flesh, and while it was still very tender, her head didn’t go all swimmy at the pressure, as it had during his last visit.

“It’s getting on fine,” he said. He straightened, letting his spectacles dangle back against his chest.

It did look a lot better. Her leg was still very swollen, but it wasn’t actively oozing, and the hot blush of red had receded to a fainter and less far-reaching pink.

Highlark glanced at the book, and his expression registered a different shade of surprise. “A little light reading?”

“Yeah, I think Fern has made a project of me.”

“Fern?”

“You know, at the bookshop. You must have been there before?” She gestured vaguely in the direction of Highlark’s library.

“Ah! No, I’ve not made her acquaintance.”

“Huh. Where’d you get all the books, then?”

Highlark squinted at her. “They’re mostly specialty volumes. Reference texts. I’d be surprised if those were the sort of books she carried. A shabby little place, isn’t it?” He opened a drawer, removing a tub of salve and a length of gauze.

As he applied the ointment and rebound her thigh, she asked, “Does that matter? It’s all words in the end, right?” Quite apart from her wound, she felt a mild sting of indignation on Fern’s behalf.