“Youaretrouble. A nice kind of trouble.”
“Maybe someday you’ll be lucky enough to find out how much. Also, I want to meet it.Him.”
“Fair warning. I don’t think he eats much.”
“Well, half a loaf is better than none.” Maylee swatted her arm, but Viv wouldn’t have minded if the touch had lasted longer.
Having Maylee along did more than lift Viv’s mood. It also worked a remarkable transformation on Highlark’s attitude. Not a single long-suffering sigh passed his lips as hecleaned, examined, and rebound Viv’s wounds. Healing appeared to be proceeding well, and the elf administered a new and pungent salve that he said would reduce stiffness and scarring.
As she examined the model skeletons suspended from their metal arms, Viv thought idly of asking if he knew anything about osseoscription, but reconsidered. Instead, she nodded in all the right places, and soon the two of them were back outside his office.
“I should’ve had you with me from the beginning,” said Viv. “I think that’s the first time he’s treated me like he was getting paid to do this.”
“Sourdough loaves,” Maylee said in sage tones. “He picks ‘em up at least three times a week.” She leaned into Viv and said seriously, “Don’t mess with your baker.”
“Especially when your baker has a mace upstairs.”
“Oh, the rollin’ pin works just fine, hon.”
“He’s out,” Viv said flatly as the door to Thistleburr closed behind her.
Satchel regarded her from where he was sweeping the back hallway, his eyes twin blue rings of flame. Fern glanced up from the counter with a start, and a guilty expression stole across her face.
Viv couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or not. Did she even have a right to be? She’d assumed they’d talk it over and decide together what to do about him. But it was Fern’s shop, and the homunculus—Satchel—wasn’t athing.
Still, she felt a prickle of dread. A premonition.
“And you have himsweeping? Like some kind of—”
“I tried to stop him,” blurted Fern. “Itried. I stared at that gods-damned bag all morning. Couldn’t keep from looking at it, thinking of him folded up in there, and I just… couldn’t leave him.” She wrung her hands anxiously. “But as soon as he was out and about, he insisted on being useful. Eventually, I gave up trying to get him to relax.”
“I’m quite incapable of that,” agreed Satchel. He resumed sweeping.
“At least the shades are drawn.” Viv sighed. “But I walked right in, and he was the first thing I saw. What if somebody else gets a look at him?”
“Well…” Fern said slowly. “What if?”
Viv opened her mouth to reply and then couldn’t think of one.
“Right? What are they going to do?” asked Fern.
Still, Viv couldn’t bring herself to give up the argument so easily. “What if whoever killed Balthus wanders in? Or somebody like him? What if it’sVarine?”
Fern made an exasperated noise. “Well, we’re fucked anyway at that point, right? What difference does it make? And as long as we keep the bag out of view, nobody else is going to make any connections. All they can do is ask questions we don’t have to answer.”
Viv looked at Satchel, as though for assistance.
He shrugged.
She couldn’t stop a burst of laughter from escaping and tossed up both hands in surrender. “Eight hells. Okay! You win. I guess that means I don’t have to put Maylee off meeting him.”
Viv made her way to one of the chairs and gently lowered herself into it. Highlark might not have aggressively probedher wound with Maylee around, but it was still tender after the hike into Murk and back, on top of the previous day’s activities.
“We have a lot to talk about, though, don’t we? I mean… ?” She gestured at the sweeping homunculus. “Why don’t you sit down, Satchel?”
“If it’s all the same to you, m’lady, I have a great deal to do. This place is…” He examined the shelves, and somehow managed to look like he was trying to be diplomatic. “Desperately in need of my further attention.”
Viv raised her brows at Fern. “Well, he seems to be settling right in.”
