Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(89)

She studied the cover and understood that to give a thoughtless answer was to break something she didn’t want broken. “Well,” she said slowly. “At first, I decided it was maybe a little on the nose. Sad. Pembroke is so sure he’s done. They’ll never see each other again, and maybe that’s just because they’re both too stubborn to see things another way. That’s how the author leaves it. Still. The more I think about it … it seems like it ought to be obvious, but people in books are wrong all the time. Hells, the authors are wrong. So maybe that’s what the story says in the words that got put down, but if you could read past the end? The words that didn’t get written? Maybe it ends up being something else altogether.”

“The story past the story,” murmured Fern.

Viv shot her a startled glance. “Yeah.”

Fern nodded. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Viv. And I’m going to miss you.” She held out her paw to shake. Viv did. “Property damage notwithstanding.”

Viv laughed and sniffed. “You, too. I did get the better end of the deal.”

Satchel approached and sketched a neat bow. “You have my undying thanks, m’lady,” he said, and something about his voice kept Viv from correcting him. “I never dared dream of my liberty.”

“Are you planning to stay here, then?” asked Viv.

The homunculus tilted his head. “Fern has agreed to have me on for a while, and I believe I will enjoy the quiet. For the days yet to come? I cannot say. There are so many to account for.”

A hoot from Viv’s feet made her look down. Potroast nuzzled her boot, his soft feathers flaring against the leather.

“Now you get affectionate, huh? I guess I’ll even miss you, you little monster.” She fished the final chunk of bacon she’d saved from her pocket and showed it to him.

He stared up at her with his huge golden eyes, and then delicately took it from her hand. The gryphet held it in his beak for a moment, then gently placed it on the floor, as if to say, “I’ll save this for later.” Then he very deliberately licked one of her outstretched fingers.

“Huh,” said Viv, because her voice was too choked for more. Somehow, this on top of everything else was too much to endure.

She stood and offered more words of increasing inadequacy until there was nothing to do but go.

As she opened the door to leave, she took one last look back at the three of them.

“See you in the story past the story,” said Fern.

And then the red door closed behind her.





EPILOGUE




Many Stories Later


Tandri opened the door to Legends & Lattes, and a spring breeze just this side of a winter chill followed her in. She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and swung a canvas bag from her shoulder, setting it on the counter.

Viv looked up from where she was wiping down the gnomish coffee maker.

“Thimble already gone?” asked the succubus.

“You just missed him,” replied Viv. The rattkin baker had scurried home only moments before. “Still a few of these left, though.” She nudged a plateful of Thimblets with the back of a hand.

“I’m just back from the post, and the orders are out, but this was waiting for you there. I saved them a trip.” She searched her bag and withdrew a brown envelope with a red wax seal. “I don’t recall any business we’ve done in Murk?”

Viv put down the rag with a prickle of surprise.

Taking the envelope, she studied the Territorial post marks that charted its path to Thune. The wax on the back bore the impression of a page and quill.

She cracked the seal and withdrew a folded letter.

Viv,



It’s been many years, and I don’t know how to sum them up, so I’m not even going to attempt it. I thought of you often and hoped you were out there alive. I confess, sometimes I doubted it, because the life you chose is a hard one. Imagine my delight when I heard you were well, and more than that, your life took turns I never could have imagined. I received the news of your shop, and your success, from Zelia Greatstrider, of all people. Coffee? I’m afraid it hasn’t arrived on this sleepy end of the Territory, but I’m intrigued.



I’d love to say that my life has been perfect, that I’ve seized every moment, that after you left there were no struggles or doubts, but that wouldn’t be true. It has been satisfactory, though. There have been many good days.



But hearing word of your ambitions made me think of the book I gave you. Crossed Purposes. It made me think of the story past the story. I think you found yours. And knowing that, it makes me imagine that I can find mine, too. And that I need to seek it out.



I love what I do. I know that. Once, you showed me how much. But I want to smell different air, to see different faces, to forge new connections. I cannot tell you how much you’ve inspired me.



Satchel is gone now. And I’m relieved that he chose to do more than stay here with me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t lonely in his absence.



I will be traveling to Thune in Maias. A sabbatical, you might say. I do hope to see you when I arrive. I can picture you in my mind, with your sword and your impatience, and so look forward to holding a new image alongside it.