“Hey, I still have to pull my weight and put in the work. I spent an hour limping through sword forms today, trying not to fall on my ass, because if I don’t—”
The gnome blew a raspberry. “Spare me. What’d you think when you first saw me?Really?”
Viv opened her mouth but discovered she had no idea what she was going to say.
“That’s what I thought.” Gallina ran her fingers over the front of her shirt, where her bandolier of knives would have crossed over.
They lapsed into an awkward silence, and the man in gray only magnified it.
Viv couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
“You have a visitor.” Iridia’s husky voice startled Viv from a fitful doze. Adrenaline washed through her in a nauseating wave, the low tide of bad sleep. Weak light still filtered through the slit windows at the back of the cell, but the hurricane lamps in the hall had been lit.
The tapenti appeared annoyed. Viv wondered if that was just her resting expression. The fine scale patterns on her face didn’t exactly seem conducive of a welcoming smile.
A rattkin stepped into view, one paw clutching the clasp of her red cloak and the other carrying a paper sack with a familiar aroma.
“Fern?” Viv was astounded that the Gatewarden had allowed her in. Iridia had made a show of grudgingly admitting High-lark, but Viv had assumed that had more to do with the mess she’d have to clean up otherwise. She couldn’t help glancing quizzically at Iridia, but her face remained unreadable.
Fern glanced worriedly at the tapenti and approached the cell, thrusting the sack through. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. And I may have suggested she wouldn’t have to feed you if she let me pass these along.”
Viv hauled herself off the cot, pressing a steadying hand against the wall, and hopped toward the bars. “Highlark patched me up. I’m fine.”
“From Maylee,” said Fern. “And you might want this as well.” She removedSea of Passionfrom under her arm.
“I don’t recall agreeing tothat,” said Iridia, moving as though to intervene.
“It’s a gods-damned book,” snapped Fern, with surprising heat.
The tapenti’s lips thinned, but after a moment, she stepped back.
Taking both, Viv wrinkled her brow. “Maylee?”
“Yeah, she seemed awfully concerned. She saw the whole thing.”
“Enough in there for two?” piped Gallina.
Viv waved a hand to quiet her. “How’s Potroast?”
“He’s pretending he ran off an intruder. Very proud of himself right now. He’s fine.” Fern glanced at Iridia and then at the man in gray, who hadn’t acknowledged her entrance in the slightest. “No thanks to that bastard.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Iridia, looming behind Fern. “As you can see, she’ll survive the night just fine.”
“That’sthe one you need to keep an eye on,” replied Fern, stabbing a finger at the silent man.
“He’s cooling his heels, isn’t he? If there’s more to be said, we won’t say it here.”
Fern shot Viv one last searching look and let herself be ushered out.
Viv settled back on the cot with the book and examined the contents of the sack. Huge, flaky biscuits and lassy buns—still warm and smelling of molasses and ginger and butter.
There was a beat of silence.
“So, did I ever tell you about my metabolism?” asked Gallina.
The biscuits and buns didn’t last long. Viv split the sackful evenly between them.
Gallina licked her fingers for the last crumbs. “Eight hells, how’d you rate delivery of those?”
