Ansom’s eyes widened. “Oh, uh. Serious. Yes! Serious, indeed!” He took a long pull of his beer to cover his surprise.
Sly dog, thought Viv, trying not to smirk.
“As one serious businessperson to another, I don’t want to waste your time.” Viv leaned on an elbow and slid eight platinum chits across the table. “That’s probably eighty gold sovereigns. I think that covers the value of the lot. I’m sure we can agree that the building is a loss, and I think the odds of another…businesswomantracking you down to pay cash on the barrelhead is vanishing.”
She held his gaze.
He still had the tankard to his mouth, but wasn’t swallowing.
Viv began to withdraw the chits, and he hurriedly reached out, pulling up short before touching her much larger hand. She raised her eyebrows.
“I can see you’ve got a keen eye for value.” Ansom blinked rapidly.
“I do. If you want to take a moment this morning to bring the deed and sign it over, I’ll wait here. But I won’t wait longer than noon.”
Turned out the old badger was a lot nimbler than he looked.
* * *
As Viv madeher mark on the deed and pocketed the keys, Ansom scooped the platinum into his purse, looking relieved the deal was complete. “So… I didn’t figure you to be interested in livery-work,” he ventured.
It was common knowledge that horses didn’t like orcs much.
“I’m not. I’m opening a coffee shop.”
Ansom looked nonplussed. “But why would you buy a horse stable for that?”
Viv didn’t answer for a moment, but then she stared hard at him. “Things don’t have to stay as what they started out as.” She folded the deed and tucked it into her satchel.
As she left, Ansom hollered after her. “Oh, and hey! What in the eight hells iscoffee?”
* * *
Viv hadthree more stops to make before returning to the livery.
The Exchange at the trade depot put some copper, silver, and gold in her purse, and then she was off to the Athenaeum at the small Thaumic university on the north bank of the river. She’d wanted to know the location anyway, in case she needed to do any reading.
More importantly, the Territorial Post ran between the scattered Athenaeums and libraries in most major cities, and it was dependable. Those copper-clad steeples she’d seen made it easy to locate.
Seated at one of the big tables between the shelves, she wrote two letters, using a few sheets of her parchment. The smell of paper and dust and time put her in mind of all the recent reading she’d done in places just like this.
A lifetime of training her muscles and her reflexes and her hardness of mind, traded for reading and planning and amassing details. She smiled ruefully as she wrote.
The gnome at the post counter couldn’t stop goggling at her as she stamped the wax seal. The woman had to take the addresses twice, she was so flustered at seeing an orc in the building.
“I’m looking for a locksmith. Know of anyone reputable?”
The gnome’s mouth hung open a moment longer, but she recovered herself and flipped through a directory behind the counter. “Markev and Sons,” she replied, “827 Mason’s Lane.”
She gave some sketchy directions.
Viv thanked her, and then left.
Markev and Sons was there, as advertised. A silver and three coppers lighter, she left with an enormous and quite heavy strongbox under one muscular arm.
* * *
Back at Parkin’s Livery,as the sun set, Viv unlocked the office door, rebarred the stable doors, and hauled the strongbox behind an L-shaped counter in the office. She stowed the deed and her funds inside, locked it, and strung the key around her neck.
