Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(21)

“So, do I get a commission, then?” Viv leaned on her staff with a challenging cock of the head.

“I have another proposal for you,” began Fern, timid for once.

“Another wager?”

“Not exactly.” She hesitated further.

“Well, I’m not going to bite. Go on. I want to hear.”

“What would you say to spending more time here? During the day?” Then, haltingly, she added, “And in exchange … I’ll … keep you in books.”

Viv considered that.

Fern rushed on. “It’d be like your library. You could read whatever you like and bring it back when you’re done. As many as you want at a time! Books can be expensive, of course, and this way you could—”

“Would you suggest them for me? The books?”

It was Fern’s turn to consider. “I … Yes, of course. I’d be happy to.”

Viv tapped the door with her walking staff and then winced, checking to make sure she hadn’t dented the wood. Potroast glared at her sleepily. “Yeah. Consider it done, then.”

The rattkin looked relieved, but also a mite guilty.

Something inside Viv twisted at that expression. There was a kind of need buried in it. And maybe she saw a possible distraction while the Ravens marched off with the life she should have been living. Something to fight against, at least. “I’ve got a counter-proposal, though.”

“Oh, really?”

“I don’t want to just sit here reading your books. What if you tried to do more than bail water? And what if I helped make that happen?”

“So you want to do battle with the bookselling business?” Fern’s mouth quirked in a smile that was almost, but not quite, skeptical. “I guess you could maybe intimidate somebody into buying a book.”

“I think you’re underestimating how charming an orc can be when they’re not pissed off. Besides, total ignorance never stopped me from trying anything before. I’ve got one other condition though.”

“What’s that?”

“We’ve got to figure out someplace to sit in here. There’s no way in all eight hells I’m standing all day.”





10





A place outside The Perch to spend the balance of her day was growing increasingly attractive.

When Viv descended to the dining area in late morning, a familiar figure reclined in her favorite chair, her heels up on the table. It was a very awkward angle, given Gallina’s height, and from the look on Brand’s face, he didn’t much appreciate the placement of her boots.

The gnome’s eyes followed Viv, even though the tilt of her chin affected disinterest.

Gallina had taken up very regular residence there since blowing up at Viv a few days before. Viv thought the gnome really ought to have more to do with her day.

Shaking her head, she went to the bar and paid no mind. “Morning, Brand.”

“Viv,” he said. “Breakfast, same as always?”

She eased onto a stool with a relieved sigh, resting her walking staff against the counter. “I gotta ask, is that the same mug you’re always cleaning, or do they all get a chance?”

The sea-fey’s gray brows rose. The tattoos on his forearms boiled as he scrubbed. “Didn’t think you’d notice. Old tavernkeeper’s secret. Wash one, everybody assumes the rest are clean, too.” He grinned at her. “Oatcakes and eggs today. Got some fresh honey too.”

Viv massaged her right thigh. She’d overdone it with the flurry of cleaning and rug-beating the day prior, because her leg was stiffer and more tender. Or maybe it was the fact that she was wearing her spare and un-ruined trousers today. The swelling in her leg was down enough that she could fit into them, but they still squeezed uncomfortably.

And while she was cataloging vexing feelings, it was hard to ignore the prickling weight of Gallina’s eyes on the back of her neck.

When Brand returned with a plate of soft eggs, griddled oatcakes, and a slathering of raw honey, she leaned in. Cocking a thumb close to her chest, where it wouldn’t be visible from behind her, she whispered, “Is she in here all day?”

Brand grunted. “Used to be an old tomcat around here. Never saw him unless I had scraps too rough for stew. Soon as I stepped out to toss ‘em, there he’d be, like he’d been watching through the window. That one over there’s the same way.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “‘Cept, you’re the scraps.”

Viv rolled her eyes and picked up her fork.

“Cat didn’t put his boots on the tables, though,” called Brand.

“What?” the gnome asked sharply.

Viv swallowed a mouthful of egg and turned to her. “Not sure what you’re waiting for. I don’t have Rackam in my back pocket, so there’s not much point in hanging around, expecting him to fall out of it.”

The gnome glared daggers at her, then pointedly drew one from her bandolier and began trimming her fingernails with an expression of disgust.

It shouldn’t have bothered Viv, but when she’d eaten and paid, she got out of there as quickly as she could without looking like she was in a hurry.



* * *



Low, soft banks of fog piled up over the dunes, obscuring the beach and stacking against Murk’s walls. The spectral shadows of a ship at anchor could be spied through the pearly gray. Above, the sky was scraped clean of cloud, flat and faded blue.