“And they need this many pages to do that?”
Fern laughed. “Well, it’s also about the investigator, and he’s one of my favorites. You might relate. He’s this grizzled old mercenary who lost a leg. And he’s got this clever companion, who’s a chemist.”
“I should relate to grizzled and old, huh?” Viv pretended to be affronted.
The rattkin stuck out her tongue and slapped Viv on the arm. “Have I steered you wrong yet? And if you like it… well, there’s more where that came from.” She took another huge bite of the pastry and closed her eyes in dreamy pleasure as she chewed, then swallowed. “Fuck,” she said appreciatively.
Viv undid the buckle across her chest and slung the saber behind the counter. Fern hadn’t said so, but she seemed morecomfortable having the weapon around, which made Viv feel a complicated mix of pride and guilt. They didn’t speak of the man in gray often, but neither had they forgotten him.
When Viv straightened, she fidgeted some curls out of her face. “Look, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Pausing before her next bite, Fern said, “That sounds serious.”
Viv sighed. “I don’t feel right about this, the longer it goes on. Sitting in your shop. Borrowing your books. Sweeping and painting the things you can’t reach. How much of that is there to do? I don’t like feeling useless.”
“But you’renot—”
She held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. I get it. But tell me seriously, how are thingsreallygoing around here? When I met you, you were positive the ship was going down. I feel like I’m scrubbing the deck while you bail water. And I don’t like it.”
Fern stroked the clasp that pinned her cloak in place. It was a nervous gesture that Viv recognized.
“The shop… will last alittlelonger. It’s been better lately. Abit. More visitors. A few more books.” It seemed to pain Fern to say this. There was a long pause while she marshaled further thoughts. “But in another way, it’s the best it’severbeen. It’s been better forme. Having you here is connecting me to why I do this. To why I used to love it. I don’t know if I can explain it, but watching you read what I give you, putting a book in your hands and seeing what happens to you once you put it back down… I can’t make you understand how that gives me something I didn’t know I had to have.”
When she fell into silence, Viv was wise enough not to fill it.
“You help me remember why I bother,” concluded Fern, almost in a whisper.
Another long silence.
Viv nodded. “Okay. I’m glad. Feels like I’m taking advantage, but I guess I’m not stupid enough to disbelieve you. But another couple of weeks, atmost, and I’m gone. So… maybe I help with something else, too, so the boat sails on even longer? I’m used to making a difference with my hands. Let medothat.”
“I know that’s what you’re used to,” said Fern, “but you don’t have to use your hands to matter.”
“Maybe not.” Viv smiled faintly. “But it’s nice when you need to paint the top of the door.”
Fern shrugged resignedly. “Fine, I’ll—”
The door slammed open and Gallina dashed inside.
“Oh thank the Eight, you’re here. C’mon, Viv, you gotta see this,” she said breathlessly.
“Seewhat?”
“It’s him,” replied the gnome, her eyes wild.
Viv didn’t need further clarification. She grabbed her saber by its scabbard and didn’t bother to belt it on. She caught Fern’s gaze. “Stay put,” she said, as every angle of her sharpened.
He was dead. Very dead.
It was the man in gray all right, sprawled between a dune and a slowly disintegrating clapboard storage building behind one of the rows. If his tangle of colorless clothing hadn’t been enough to mark him, up close, that cold smell prevailed, dry and metallic in Viv’s nose.
“Didyoukill him?” She strapped her saber onto her back and squatted beside the corpse, scanning the sand, but it wasa muddle of inconclusive traces. The wind wasn’t helping the situation much either.
“Gods, no!” said Gallina. “Found him this way. Okay,Ididn’t find him. It was that orc with the wagon.”
“Pitts?”
“Hells if I know his name! How many orcs with wagons have they got in Murk?”
