An awkward silence followed, during which they both chewed and looked anywhere but at one another. Sadly, the shop itself remained not much to look at. At last, Viv swallowed and said, “Well, a sea chart isn’t going to keep me from going stir-crazy, and I’m stuck with this crutch for a while, so … any other suggestions?”
The rattkin studied her for a moment, and Viv thought she looked more weary than someone so young ought to ever be. Fern shook herself, though, and brightened. “First, tell me about Ten Links. I want to know your thoughts.”
Viv frowned. She’d enjoyed the hells out of it, honestly, but … she wasn’t sure how to put that into words.
“Well. I liked it,” she tried lamely.
Fern snorted. “Yes, very illuminating.”
“The swordfights were great. Not realistic, but, you know, fun.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that, I guess. How about the characters, though?”
“Uh. Well … Madger was—She was … complicated.”
“Mmmhmm. How so? What stood out to you?” She stroked her whiskers, seeming honestly interested.
Viv thought about it. “She was hard. And I guess you like her for it. At least, I did. But sometimes … too hard. And then … Legann, he kind of pushes back, I guess? Sort of like they’re each only half a person. But if they press hard enough toward each other, then—”
Something ignited in Fern’s eyes. “Legann was always my favorite, despite how everything ended for him. When Madger lost Legann—”
“She lost everything,” finished Viv. “Even though he betrayed her.”
“Did he though? Really? Or was he trying to keep her from betraying herself? And then the more important question … did he succeed?”
Viv frowned. “Huh.”
“Well, while you wrestle with that, I think I have something you might want to try.”
As Fern rounded a shelf to rummage in a pile, Viv looked down at the gryphet, who was watching her with narrowed eyes.
“Still enemies?” whispered Viv.
Potroast burbled deep in his throat in what she thought was a growl. The feathers of his ruff fluffed.
“Your loss, then. This one’s for me,” she said, popping the last piece of lassy bun in her mouth.
His burble intensified.
“Here go you,” said Fern, sliding a green volume onto the counter. It was thicker than the last and entitled Heart’s Blade. “By Russa Tensiger. A little more modern, but I have a feeling you just might like it.”
“Well, it’s got ‘blade’ in the title, so that’s a good start.”
Viv thought Fern’s smile was secretive, but the rattkin nodded.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Actually, I have a little deal in mind. Take it for now. Another twenty bits if you like it. If you don’t, you keep your money.”
“Uh, I’m not qualified to give business advice or anything, but that might be why you’re only selling sea charts.”
“You have to read the whole thing though. All of it. And if you don’t finish, you also have to pay up.”
Viv frowned at her. “I’m getting the feeling this book doesn’t have as many swords as I was expecting.”
“It’s an important sword. So, agreed?” She stuck out her paw.
Viv thought about it but shrugged. “Agreed.”
Fern’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m so interested to hear what you think.”
6
Viv almost planted her good foot through the wrecked plank in the boardwalk, catching herself just in time. “Eight hells,” she said in exasperation. “Two busted legs really would put a crown on it.”
As she carefully made her way into the street, she saw the scarred orc and his wagon, tools rattling against the slatted sides. Folks streaming up the hill toward The Perch parted around him like trout skirting a gar.
“Hey!” she called out. She finally dredged up his name. “Pitts!”
He slowed to a stop, watching her limp nearer.
Close up, Pitts was younger than she’d expected, his scalp shaved clean. He studied the book in her hand with interest.
“Look, if I wanted to get a couple of planks around here, where would I do that? I figure you’d know,” she asked.
He frowned, then gestured over her shoulder. “Mill’s ‘round the other side of the walls, on the stream.”
For some reason she expected him to follow that up with a question, but he dropped his hand and waited on her again.
“Uh, so … how do I ask this … Do you ever get over that way? If I wanted to maybe pay you to pick up a few boards for me, and also for a little time with some of your tools, would that be something you’d do?”
“Suppose that depends.”
“On?”
He shrugged, still holding the traces, so that the wagon tilted as he did. “On what you’re plannin’。”
She waved at the shop with the book. “The wood’s rotten up there. Almost put my foot through it. Figured I’d replace it.”
Pitts’s brow wrinkled doubtfully at her bum leg. “Why?”
Viv frowned in return. “Because it’s dangerous?”
He shook his head. “I mean, why you? Somebody ask? Know what you’re doin’？”
“I guess no to both, but how hard could it be to knock in a board? Pretty sure I can hit a nail hard enough to get the job done. I don’t know, I think Fern’s got enough to worry with, so I figured …” She trailed off.
Pitts thought about that for a second, then nodded once, very slowly. “Tomorrow at noon.”
“At noon … what?”
“Meet me here.”
“Oh. Uh, what do I owe you?”
“We’ll see.”
And then he was off and rolling again.
Viv blinked at his departure. “Well … thanks!” she called after him, but he didn’t turn back.
“See you at noon,” she said to herself, shaking her head.
* * *
Viv stepped into The Perch anticipating a leisurely lunch at the table she was coming to think of as hers. She’d been looking forward to dipping into Heart’s Blade and figuring out if Fern was teasing her or not. Instead, she found the bottom floor absolutely packed.
Apparently, Brand’s inn was well known to the passengers and crew of the docked frigate, because they all seemed to be there. It was louder than she’d ever heard it, thick with chatter and the occasional bellow of laughter. Her table had even been commandeered—although there were two open chairs there.
Any time before this week, the atmosphere would’ve been welcome. A beer and some food and conversation might’ve been just the thing. But with a book in hand, and a surprising interest in cracking it, she felt properly thwarted. She supposed she could go upstairs to her room, but …
Sidling through a crowd with a crutch caused more than a few bumped shoulders, and she mumbled apologies that were lost in the hubbub. But her natural size helped some as she approached her preferred table.
Her favorite chair—the one that faced the rest of the room—was occupied by a gnome with a look about her that Viv had seen plenty of times before.