Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(47)

She snapped the book closed and tucked it away. “Yep. Fern’s still picking them for me.”

Maylee squinted at her. “Somethin’ botherin’ you?”

Viv shrugged awkwardly. “Yesterday was … a lot.”

Maylee bumped Viv’s left leg with her hip. “Well, let’s get movin’, and you can tell me about it. I’ve got an hour before the bakery falls to shambles without me.”

Viv grabbed the walking staff from where it leaned against the clapboard. She figured if she had it in hand, Highlark was less likely to use the sharp side of his tongue.

“Back with the stick, huh? How’s the leg, then?”

Viv considered the question. “Little stiff today, but on the mend.”

They walked together toward Murk proper. In Maylee’s company, Viv didn’t struggle against her own deliberate pace. The sand was still soaked and hard from the prior night’s storm, and the sea had a gray, sullen look about it. The smell of waterlogged wood and spent rain was heavy.

She saw Gatewardens patrolling on top of the fortress wall. True to her word, Iridia was taking the potential threat of Varine seriously. Viv wondered what other preparations the tapenti might be making.

As they strolled, Viv relayed all that had happened the previous day, from the discovery of Balthus to the appearance of Satchel.

“Eight hells,” breathed Maylee, eyes huge. “So, what’re you gonna do?”

“Wish I knew. You got any ideas?”

Maylee thought about it as they continued, two strides to every one of Viv’s. She stared out over the breaking waves, and finally asked, “You think there’s any harm in him?”

Viv thought it over as they walked, then sighed. “Maybe not in him. But maybe he drags it behind?”

“So you’re tellin’ me you want to stay out of trouble? Who’re you kiddin’? Remember, I used to do this stuff, too.”

“Well, it doesn’t mean I want to bring trouble down on everybody around me.”

“I’ll risk a little trouble. I’m a big girl.” Maylee looked Viv up and down. “Relatively.”

“You are trouble. A nice kind of trouble.”

“Maybe someday you’ll be lucky enough to find out how much. Also, I want to meet it. Him.”

“Fair warning. I don’t think he eats much.”

“Well, half a loaf is better than none.” Maylee swatted her arm, but Viv wouldn’t have minded if the touch had lasted longer.



* * *



Having Maylee along did more than lift Viv’s mood. It also worked a remarkable transformation on Highlark’s attitude. Not a single long-suffering sigh passed his lips as he cleaned, examined, and rebound Viv’s wounds. Healing appeared to be proceeding well, and the elf administered a new and pungent salve that he said would reduce stiffness and scarring.

As she examined the model skeletons suspended from their metal arms, Viv thought idly of asking if he knew anything about osseoscription, but reconsidered. Instead, she nodded in all the right places, and soon the two of them were back outside his office.

“I should’ve had you with me from the beginning,” said Viv. “I think that’s the first time he’s treated me like he was getting paid to do this.”

“Sourdough loaves,” Maylee said in sage tones. “He picks ‘em up at least three times a week.” She leaned into Viv and said seriously, “Don’t mess with your baker.”

“Especially when your baker has a mace upstairs.”

“Oh, the rollin’ pin works just fine, hon.”



* * *



“He’s out,” Viv said flatly as the door to Thistleburr closed behind her.

Satchel regarded her from where he was sweeping the back hallway, his eyes twin blue rings of flame. Fern glanced up from the counter with a start, and a guilty expression stole across her face.

Viv couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or not. Did she even have a right to be? She’d assumed they’d talk it over and decide together what to do about him. But it was Fern’s shop, and the homunculus—Satchel—wasn’t a thing.

Still, she felt a prickle of dread. A premonition.

“And you have him sweeping? Like some kind of—”

“I tried to stop him,” blurted Fern. “I tried. I stared at that gods-damned bag all morning. Couldn’t keep from looking at it, thinking of him folded up in there, and I just … couldn’t leave him.” She wrung her hands anxiously. “But as soon as he was out and about, he insisted on being useful. Eventually, I gave up trying to get him to relax.”

“I’m quite incapable of that,” agreed Satchel. He resumed sweeping.

“At least the shades are drawn.” Viv sighed. “But I walked right in, and he was the first thing I saw. What if somebody else gets a look at him?”

“Well …” Fern said slowly. “What if?”

Viv opened her mouth to reply and then couldn’t think of one.

“Right? What are they going to do?” asked Fern.

Still, Viv couldn’t bring herself to give up the argument so easily. “What if whoever killed Balthus wanders in? Or somebody like him? What if it’s Varine?”