Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(73)

“Uh, yes, ma’am.”

Zelia flashed Berk an amused expression. “I thought you told me they called me ‘miss’?”

Berk looked up from where he was rubbing the gryphet’s belly and offered a vague shrug.

“And you …” Zelia narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at Viv. “You, I don’t believe I know. I haven’t puzzled out what you’re doing in her company yet. Those aren’t bookselling arms.”

“Oh, I’m just around for a few weeks. A friend of Fern’s, I guess. Helping out here and there. Which is what I wanted to talk to—”

“Actually,” said Zelia, a sly smile spreading across her lips, “I do know you. You’re that orc who was dragged into town a few weeks back. Highlark is lucky he made it out alive.”

“Um, yeah,” said Viv, face flushing hot and honestly feeling a little persecuted. “Yeah, that was me, but I felt real bad about it. I wasn’t in my right mind at the time, because of the fever, and—”

Fern put her face in her paws.

Zelia burst into full-throated laughter and slapped the arm of her chair. Wiping away a tear, she rolled a hand at them. “All right, I’m more intrigued by the moment. If nothing else, I’ll work this all into a book. Do go on. Your proposal?”

Viv decided she’d better bull ahead as fast as possible if she was going to get anywhere. “We’ve done a lot of work on the bookshop and wanted to see if you would come and visit when Fern reopens.”

“Visit?” The elf frowned. “You want me to shop there?”

“Oh, no! No, we want people to meet you. People who love your books.”

Zelia studied Viv. “My dear, why do you imagine I live this far out of the city?”

Viv knew the answer the elf wanted but took a gamble, and said, “Because you inherited a lot of money and a huge estate in the country?”

Fern gasped and slowly turned her head to stare at Viv with huge, disbelieving eyes.

Greatstrider considered her, mouth drawn into a thin line, until it slowly curved back into that sly smile. “You’re an interesting person, Viv.”

“I think that’s the first time anybody has ever said that to me.”

“Sometimes, it’s even a compliment,” said Zelia, and took a satisfied bite of her bun.

“What is happening?” asked Fern helplessly.

Berk patted the rattkin gently on the shoulder, Potroast purring in his other arm. “It means she’ll come.”

The satchel at Viv’s side rustled in anticipation.





36





“What do you think?” asked Fern, holding one of the large sheets up and examining it critically.

She’d just returned from the small printworks in town with a stack of typeset handbills. They read:

THISTLEBURR BOOKSELLERS

est. 1343

New Stock—Grand Reopening

One-Day Sale

With Notable Local Author

ZELIA GREATSTRIDER

In Attendance!

Freyday—Open to Close

BEACH ROW

Viv looked up from the sandwich board she was laboring over, studied it, and nodded. “Seems like it should get the job done, yeah?”

They’d planned the opening to coincide with the arrival of the weekly passenger frigate, which gave them another day to post the flyers everywhere they could think of.

“Here are yours then,” said Fern, dividing the pile of handbills into two stacks.

“Just have to finish this.” Viv frowned at her handiwork. “I’ve redrawn the damn thing three times now, and it’s still crooked.”

After erasing the previous text with a rag, Viv had done her best to chalk the required words. They still sloped down and to the right, but at least the arrow she’d drawn under them was mostly straight. “Hells. I’m not much of an artist.”

Satchel bent over her shoulder to study the result. “Alas, I concur.”

Viv sighed and held out the chalk. “Here you go.”

The homunculus plucked it from her fingers with a bony hand. “Many thanks. Do you think copperplate or blackletter would be most appropriate?”

“Do both of those make words?”

He looked at her with his burning blue eyes. “I … well, yes, obviously?”

“We trust your judgment, Satchel,” said Fern.

Viv climbed to her feet, while the homunculus began drafting sure lines in what seemed random locations all across the surface of the slate.

Fern drew Viv’s attention by thrusting a mallet and a packet of tacks at her, then followed it up with the handbills. “Here you go. Happy hammering.”

Hefting the tool, Viv examined it with professional curiosity and gave it an experimental swing. “Feels good to hold a maul again. Did I tell you I lost mine?”

Fern rolled her eyes. “Don’t go braining anybody, please. Not until after they’ve bought a book, anyway.”

“Mmm, yes, I think this will be satisfactory,” said Satchel, stroking his jawbone with a skeletal finger.

Viv and Fern stared open-mouthed at the sandwich board.

Wreathed in crisply executed geometric borders, he’d printed the same words Viv had scrawled, but in ornately chalked text.