Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(3)
“Mornin’, miss,” he rumbled. “Breakfast?”
Viv couldn’t remember anyone ever calling her miss.
His gaze sketched over her, brows rising as he spied the saber, then returned to the mug he was polishing.
“Bacon?” asked Viv.
He nodded. “Eggs, too? Potatoes?”
Her stomach grumbled aggressively. “Yeah.”
“Five bits ought to do it.”
She patted at her belt for her wallet, looked toward the stairs, and swore.
“I’ll get it next time. Worst case I climb those stairs myself.” The man smiled wryly. “Don’t think you could outrun me, could you? You’d better fall onto one of these stools while you still can.”
Viv was so used to her very existence being an obvious threat that it was honestly startling to hear a casual joke at her expense, even such a mild one. She supposed clunking around on one leg tended to dull one’s fearsomeness.
As she accomplished the suggested maneuver, he disappeared into the back. Viv dragged another stool close enough to prop her bare foot on one of its low supports.
Drumming her fingers on the counter, she tried to distract herself by studying the interior further, but there really wasn’t much else worth marking. The sounds and smells from the back were all her mind could dwell on.
When the tavernkeep brought out a skillet and set it on the counter along with a fork and a napkin, she almost seized the hot handle with her bare hand in her hurry to drag it closer. The hash of potatoes, crispy, fatty pork, and two runny eggs was still sizzling and popping. She almost burst into joyful tears.
Viv caught him watching her devour the food from the other end of the bar and tried to slow down, but the potatoes were salty and rich with the egg, and it was hard not to shovel it in without pausing. The noises she made as she ate were not polite, but they were definitely sincere.
“Feel better?” the sea-fey asked as he slid the empty pan off the bar-top.
“Gods, yes. And thanks. Uh, I’m Viv.”
That wry grin again. “Heard when you came in. We’ve met, actually, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Not with all the commotion.”
She didn’t remember the commotion, but his amused tone made her wonder. “So, did the Ravens pay up my stay?”
“Hoped I’d see Rackam himself,” said the barkeep. “Still, the fellow he sent to put you up was practically a gentleman. Paid four days. Said you’d be able to foot it past that. I’m Brand.”
He held out a hand, and she shook it. They both had hard grips.
“Back to your ease then?” he asked.
“Hells, no. I’d go crazy. Um. Where exactly am I?”
His wry grin went all the way to amused. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Murk, jewel of the western coast! A very small part of the western coast. And this here is The Perch, my place.”
“Seems awfully quiet around here.” She’d almost said depressingly quiet.
“We have our loud moments when the boats are in. But if you’re looking to rest and recover, most days you’re not going to be bothered by the noise.”
She nodded and hopped onto her good foot, easing the crutch back under her. “Well, thanks again. Guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”
With hot food in her belly, Viv felt more herself. The thought of hobbling her way around a little of the town was a lot more attractive than it had been a few minutes ago. She rapped a knuckle on the counter. “Think I’ll take in the sights.”
“See you in ten minutes then,” said Brand.
Viv laughed, but she had to force it.
2
As Viv lurched off the porch, grabbing one of the newel posts for balance, she glanced back. A battered sign hung under the shingled awning, bearing an indifferently carved fish, with THE PERCH chiseled above it and stained dark.
A light sea breeze teased her curls into her face, and she gazed out over what she could see of Murk.
The ocean was visible for three-quarters of the horizon, until it was obscured by a tall, chalky bluff to the north. She could discern the barest sketch of some small structures and fences, but not enough to identify their purpose. Dunes swelled back from the shore in flattening waves, crested by shaggy fringes of beach grass.
An old stone fortress wall surrounded most of Murk proper, marching uphill, with the town tucked inside. The Perch wasn’t within its protective encirclement but on a sandy upslope beside the southern road, affording a view over the ramparts.
Outside the walls and nearer to The Perch, long ranks of narrow buildings curved in dwindling arcs toward the beach. Their clapboard sides were bleached pearly gray by sun and salt mist, burnished silver in the late morning light. Uneven boardwalks stitched them together, and old, sparsely cobbled roads wound between, sifted over with sand in places.
Four long piers extended out into the sea, jumbled with crates and rigging. Fishing boats nibbled against the pilings like minnows after bread, while bigger ships plied the waters beyond. A few tiny figures moved on the piers, and their faint calls rebounded across the water.
The whole city seemed half asleep. She doubted it ever woke up.
A sudden, powerful sense of being left behind swamped Viv. Rackam had dumped her in these misbegotten borderlands, and a wild certainty crawled up from her gut that he never planned to come back this way. It was all a convenient excuse to be rid of a troublesome kid.