“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.
Leaving Gallina behind was a relief, although Viv checked over her shoulder to make sure the gnome wasn’t following, feeling ridiculous about it.
She hoped to collar Pitts on his morning rounds, because she’d been sitting on an idea overnight and was anxious to see if it could be done.
The fog lent the trip down to the boardwalk a peculiar, muffled quiet, where near sounds seemed to come from far away, as though the world had been stretched in all directions and only mist filled the spaces in between.
Viv didn’t see anyone until she reached the bakery, which was reliably busy. At this point, she figured that if enemies from across the sea lay siege to the fortress walls, there would still be a line at Sea-Song. And some of the besiegers would probably be in it.
When she reached the front of the line, Maylee planted both hands on the counter and leaned forward with a welcoming smile. “It was the muffins, huh? That’s what tipped it.” She winked. She seemed to do that a lot.
“I did eat all of them before I made it up the hill, so, maybe?”
“How long are you in town, hon?”
Viv shrugged. “A few more weeks, I guess. I’ve got a, uh, crew that’s coming back through. I should be fit to travel by then.” She patted her leg more enthusiastically than she should have and then regretted it.
A dockworker leaned around Viv to see what the holdup was, opening his mouth like he was about to say something.
Turned out, Maylee had a remarkably effective glare. Viv was glad it wasn’t directed at her.
“So you’re a soldier of fortune sorta gal then, huh?” the dwarf continued brightly. “I mean, to look at you, I’d figured as much. How d’you like it?”
Viv was increasingly aware of the line growing behind her and shifted her weight uncomfortably.
“Oh, well. I guess it’s what I always wanted to do? Get out there and raise a little hell. Right wrongs, that sort of thing.” She shrugged. “Although there’s a lot more spineback-hunting than I expected. A lot.”
“Mmm. Yeah,” said Maylee dreamily. Then her eyes narrowed at the man behind Viv, and she stabbed a finger toward him. “Rolf, you’ll get your buns. Hold on to your ass!”
When Viv left with a sack of lassy buns, she tried to make her expression apologetic for the benefit of all the impatient folks in line.
* * *
She continued onward to the city proper, the fog growing denser as she went. The slap of waves echoed strangely through the mist, and the ghostly creak of ships acquired a dreamlike quality. If she didn’t stumble across Pitts, at least she could see if what she wanted could still be had.
But Viv did run across him. She spied his cart first, drawn to the side where the sand piled in little humps against the salt-streaked fortress wall. Pitts sat on a dune amidst long grasses, his scarred shoulders hunched forward.
He was reading the little book Fern had gifted him.
She came very close before he noticed, looking up at her with that same mild expression he’d worn the first time Viv met him.
“Guess you liked it then?” she said.
He glanced down at the tiny orange book, then back at her, pursing his lips. “Guess I did.” He looked into the mist, as though he could see through it. “Good day for it, too. Sometimes, I just read one page and think about it. Kind of turn it over in my head like a stone and look at it from all sides.”
Viv blinked at him. That was almost more than she’d ever heard him say, and words she didn’t expect. “Hey, I had something I wanted to ask. But I’ve already gotten more of a favor out of you than I wanted already, so you have to let me pay you this time.”
She held the sack out toward him. “First though, these are for you, either way. Just wanted to thank you again. I know that wasn’t scrap wood you brought.”
Pitts accepted the sack, looked inside, and gave it an appreciative sniff.