“Yes, so excellent to see you off to such a promising start.” The elf surveyed the conspicuously empty dining area, maintaining his smile. He delicately rapped a knuckle against the coffee maker and cocked an ear at the subtle tone it generated. “It does indeed have thering of fortuneabout it.”
Viv froze.
Then suddenly, a furry bulk stalked past her to stand in front of Fennus, and the rocks-down-a-washboard sound of its purr became something altogether more menacing. The dire-cat’s hair stood on end, making it look half-again as large, and it hissed louder than the coffee maker ever had.
Fennus eyed the animal uncertainly. “Is this thing… yours?”
Tandri leaned further forward and surprised Viv with her tone of politely savage delight. “She is. A bit of a shop mascot.”
He wrinkled his nose in distaste, and then his eyes flicked to Viv. “Charming. Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way. I only wanted to deliver my congratulations. Best wishes, Viv.”
She silently watched him leave, and Tandri came around the counter to hunker in front of the enormous cat, which was now licking one forepaw with regal deliberation and looking pleased with itself.
Tandri’s prior apprehension forgotten, she scratched behind the dire-cat’s ears, eliciting a deeper purr, and murmured, “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? You know a dickhead when you see one.” She looked at Viv. “Old coworker? No love lost between you two, I guess.”
“Something like that. Being the best of friends isn’t a requirement for the work I used to do.”
Tandri returned her attention to the cat. “Mmmmm, you need a name. How about…Amity?”
Viv snorted, unable to suppress a small smile. “Why not, since you’re already such fast friends?”
“Not like you andhim.” Tandri jerked a thumb toward the recently departed elf. “What do you think he really wanted?”
Viv didn’t answer, instead thinking of what Fennus had said. Her hand went to the folded scrap of verse she kept in her pocket.
Well-nigh to thaumic line,
the Scalvert’s Stone a-fire
draws the ring of fortune,
aspect of heart’s desire.
11
Despite a fitful sleep plagued with worries over Fennus, Viv eventually steered her thoughts to Hemington’s parting comments about food. While she ruminated, Tandri blacked out the lines on the signboards mentioning free samples and limited supplies and adjusted the menu while she was at it.
When the regulars returned—plus a few new faces—Viv noted with pleasure that they paid for their drinks without complaint. Viv and Tandri shared a relieved glance and got down to business, enjoying the warm bustle behind the hissing machine.
Cal stopped in again too, obviously relieved there was no silence to fill with idle observations. He groused when Viv refused his copper but hovered by the counter while he drank, nodding every once in a while as he watched them work.
Remembering the idea she’d been toying with, Viv asked Tandri to handle brewing duties halfway through the rush.
Tandri smoothly took up the orders while Viv went to find the rattkin, tucked away in one of the back corner booths, feet swinging, eyes closed, meditating over his steaming mug.
She slid in across from him, and his bright eyes opened to regard her warily. He was wearing the same apron she’d seen him in every morning, whitened liberally with flour. Up close, pale powder flecked the fine hairs on his arms and face, as well.
“Hi, there. I’m Viv.”
He nodded and slurped at his latte.
“Not too talkative?”
He shook his head.
“That’s all right. But I wanted to ask you something. I noticed your….” She gestured at his apron, “Well, the flour. And I wondered if you happened to know anything about baking?”
The rattkin stared at her, whiskers twitching, and gently set down his mug, then gave a slow triple nod.
