Gallina looked stricken.
“Uh. Yeah. I’ll get that later, then,” the gnome said in a strangled voice, and hurried out the door.
“Wait, she really did read something? What did she ask for?”
Fern finished shelving the volume in her paws and turned back to Viv, her eyes sharp with humor.
She mouthed one word.
“Moist.”
* * *
When they’d finished shelving everything, Viv carted the empty crates out back to keep for later. When she returned, she found Fern arranging the last of the books she’d set aside on the front table.
With the knuckles of one paw to her chin, she contemplated the entire setup and then reached out and swapped two of them.
“Huh. Looks nice,” said Viv. It did. The covers showed well with their fronts out, and Fern had arranged them at artful angles or face up and sometimes rakishly tilted.
There was something modern and immediate about many of the designs. Bold, serifed text in gold or silver, iconography that suggested a dream condensed. Some were covered in marbled cloth with blooms of color like exotic foliage.
Fern studied them with a wistful smile on her lips. “It’s funny. I hate to sell them. Did I ever tell you that? If I could keep them all, I would.”
“Solid business plan.”
The rattkin slapped her on the arm.
“Desert Heat,” said Viv, grinning. “Greatstrider, huh?” She tapped a volume with a very detailed illustration of an orc and a human on the verge of shedding the rest of their clothing and doing something very acrobatic. A thought occurred to her, and her eyes widened. “Wait, this isn’t Gallina’s, is it?”
“A good bookseller doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“So that’s absolutely a yes. Anyway, when do you want to reopen?”
“Anxious to go spineback hunting?”
Viv shrugged uncomfortably. “That’s not what I meant …”
“I know. I’m fucking with you. Actually, I had an idea, and I wanted to see what you thought about it.” Fern sat in one of the padded chairs and motioned for Viv to join her.
As she sank into the seat, she shot the rattkin a perplexed look. “Not sure why you’d need my opinion.”
“Well, it’s about Maylee. Do you think … do you think she might want to sell some of her scones or biscuits here?”
For a moment, Viv’s thoughts were knocked sideways as she felt the phantom of Maylee’s kiss at the corner of her mouth and an echo of last night’s conversation. Her face warmed. Then she shook it off. “Easy enough to ask.” She tried a wry grin. “Just cleaned the place, and now you want crumbs all over, huh?”
“That’s why I have Potroast. But I think there’s something about curling up with a book and something good to eat. And we have the chairs, and, well … I like having somebody in here. Having you in here day in and day out … I like the company.”
“And pretty soon, I’m not going to be here,” said Viv quietly.
Fern shrugged. “Yeah. We’ve gone to all this trouble, so why not make it a place people want to stay, however we can? However I can?”
That shift from “we” to “I” stung more than Viv expected it to. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? When she was gone, she wanted Fern happy and successful, didn’t she? That’s what a friend would want.
She laced her fingers together between her knees and wondered what it said about her that the thought made her bridle. “I think it’s a great idea.” And then, crushing that feeling down as hard as she could, she cleared her throat and forged on. “And speaking of Maylee, her idea didn’t seem half bad either.”
“About trying to get Greatstrider down here? If she showed up on my doorstep, I wouldn’t complain, I’ll admit. But can you see me bobbing on hers, begging her to parade around my shabby little shop like … like some kind of visiting dignitary?” Fern snorted. “I’m not that brave.”
“First, the shop isn’t shabby.” Viv leveled a finger at her. “We painted the shit out of this place. And second, you happen to be sitting across from somebody who makes a habit of charging into things like a damned fool.”
“You’re going to convince her to visit?”
“What if I do?”
Fern considered that. “Well, after I finished kissing you on the mouth, I suppose I’d do my gods-damned best to arrange the finest reopening I could muster.”
Viv slapped her thighs and stood. “Just don’t kiss me in front of Maylee.”
“Mmm, yes. Hard to explain, I imagine.”
“Mind the fort, Potroast,” said Viv, saluting the gryphet.
He hooted at her sleepily, then settled his feathered head back between his paws.
* * *
When Viv passed Sea-Song, she spied Maylee’s silhouette through the fogged windows, but she didn’t think the dwarf saw her, which was a relief. They needed to speak with one another, but she had a few errands she wanted to get out of the way first. Viv felt like a phantom as she left the bakery behind. She had the surreal sense of setting her affairs in order in case she died. Making sure things carried on when she wouldn’t be around to see them.
It unnerved her.
Doing her best to shake off that grim feeling, she hiked into the fortress walls to find Iridia.
There were still more Gatewardens about than normal, but their attention had lapsed from the high alert Iridia had once demanded. And no wonder. Necromantic invasions had been notably thin on the ground.
A few questions asked of one of the women posted at the gate sent her in the right direction.
Before tackling that particular task, though, she addressed something much simpler. Just inside the fortress walls, a busy livery had coaches for let and stalls of well-bred horses. The animals shied at her appearance, and she did her best to keep her distance while she searched for the dispatcher.
She secured transport for the following day, paying in advance. With that done, she threaded her way through the tight warren of streets to the Gatewarden’s garrison.
“A symbol?” asked the tapenti when Viv explained why she’d come.
“The same one I told you about, the one on Bal—” She caught herself. “On the dead man’s tattoo.”
Iridia narrowed her eyes at the slip, but she didn’t press.
“Look, you can send someone up to check it out. You can’t miss it. I don’t know what the hells it means, but it’s obviously hers. Maybe it’s just related to whoever killed him? I’m just passing along the information.”
“You know, I can’t help but think that if you’d never come to my town, our friend in gray would have gone about his business, and none of this would be my problem.”
“Or maybe something worse would’ve happened,” said Viv, her temper kindling. She relaxed her fists with an effort. The idea of hunting down a bunch of spinebacks was suddenly very appealing. “I’m just trying to be a good guest in your town.”
Then she took a deep breath and asked the question she’d been trying to figure out how to pose. The one that she had to bring up after her late-night conversation with Satchel. “That book. You’ve still got it? Is it nearby?”