Then she pulled away and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Viv never managed to say a word, but their time was over.
One had gone up, and the other down, and the crossing would not be repeated.
When Viv walked into Thistleburr for the last time, Satchel was shelving some repaired volumes while Fern curled up in one of the surviving padded chairs, perusing a catalog. Potroast looked over from taking experimental nips at Satchel’s anklebones to hoot at her.
Fern put the catalog aside and started to rise, then saw the pack on Viv’s back. Her expression made a few detours on the way to a smile. “So, you’re going, then?”
“Soon,” said Viv. After Maylee, she’d figured this would be easier, and it was, but not by as much as she’d hoped. “I wanted to give this back to you before I did, though.” She held out Fern’s copy ofCrossed Purposes.
Fern snorted. “I knew there was a reason I lent you that. Kept you from slipping off on the sly.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” protested Viv.
“Hm. I know you warrior types,” she replied, with a pained smile. “Tear the damned place up and leave. Just look at this mess!” She waved dramatically at the shop, which still clearly bore the marks of Varine’s trespass. “Anyway, that book isyours to keep. What did you think of it?” She asked it offhandedly, but Viv didn’t think it was an offhanded question.
She studied the cover and understood that to give a thoughtless answer was to break something she didn’t want broken. “Well,” she said slowly. “At first, I decided it was maybe a little on the nose. Sad. Pembroke is so sure he’s done. They’ll never see each other again, and maybe that’s just because they’re both too stubborn to see things another way. That’s how the author leaves it. Still. The more I think about it… it seems like it ought to be obvious, but people in books are wrong all the time. Hells, theauthorsare wrong. So maybe that’s what the story says in the words that got put down, but if you could read past the end? The words thatdidn’tget written? Maybe it ends up being something else altogether.”
“The story past the story,” murmured Fern.
Viv shot her a startled glance. “Yeah.”
Fern nodded. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Viv. And I’m going to miss you.” She held out her paw to shake. Viv did. “Property damage notwithstanding.”
Viv laughed and sniffed. “You, too. Ididget the better end of the deal.”
Satchel approached and sketched a neat bow. “You have my undying thanks, m’lady,” he said, and something about his voice kept Viv from correcting him. “I never dared dream of my liberty.”
“Are you planning to stay here, then?” asked Viv.
The homunculus tilted his head. “Fern has agreed to have me on for a while, and I believe I will enjoy the quiet. For the days yet to come? I cannot say. There are so many to account for.”
A hoot from Viv’s feet made her look down. Potroast nuzzled her boot, his soft feathers flaring against the leather.
“Now you get affectionate, huh? I guess I’ll even miss you, you little monster.” She fished the final chunk of bacon she’d saved from her pocket and showed it to him.
He stared up at her with his huge golden eyes, and then delicately took it from her hand. The gryphet held it in his beak for a moment, then gently placed it on the floor, as if to say, “I’ll save this for later.” Then he very deliberately licked one of her outstretched fingers.
“Huh,” said Viv, because her voice was too choked for more. Somehow, this on top of everything else was too much to endure.
She stood and offered more words of increasing inadequacy until there was nothing to do but go.
As she opened the door to leave, she took one last look back at the three of them.
“See you in the story past the story,” said Fern.
And then the red door closed behind her.
EPILOGUE
Many Stories Later
Tandri opened the door to Legends & Lattes, and a spring breeze just this side of a winter chill followed her in. She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and swung a canvas bag from her shoulder, setting it on the counter.
Viv looked up from where she was wiping down the gnomish coffee maker.
“Thimble already gone?” asked the succubus.
