Maylee stopped kneading and gave her a searching look. “That doesn’t really upset you, does it?”
“I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Viv hedged. But that wasn’t really an answer at all.
A galleon from the far south was anchored in the deeper waters offshore, and small boats had been ferrying passengers, merchants, and crew members to the beach throughout the late afternoon. Coaches rattled in both directions along the southern road to Cardus. As a result, it was one of The Perch’s livelier nights.
Viv was comfortable enough on her leg to be seated at the bar. Her favorite table was occupied anyway. She nursed a second beer while she tried not to race through the last three chapters ofThe Lens and the Dapplegrim. Brand was a blur beyond her vision, and the noise piled up against the walls, leaving her alone in the center of a perfect sphere of story. Each word tumbled into the next, a rockslide of prose that would end in a dramatic confrontation between Investigator Beckett and the deliciously devious Aramy, with Leena’s life in the balance. At least that’s where sheexpectedthings to go. The book had a way of confounding her expectations, and every time it did, she experienced a thrill of delight.
When someone sat down beside her at the bar, she paid them no mind, absorbed as she was.
As she recognized her neighbor, though, the raucous sound crashed back in on Viv, and she found herself fully, instantly present.
“I’ll confess, I didn’t imagine you were the literary sort.” The voice was husky, dryly amused.
Iridia.
Viv did her best not to sigh in annoyance, marking her place with a thumb.
The woman tapped the bar-top and nodded at Brand for a drink. She was perfectly at ease. Her longsword was still belted at her waist, lantern on the opposite hip. Viv didn’t think it looked very comfortable.
Iridia downed a swallow of her beer before eyeing Viv. “I see you’re on the mend. I expect you’ll be off soon, then.”
“When Rackam returns, yeah,” said Viv evenly. “No idea when that will be. I guess you’re stuck with me until he shows up.”
The tapenti silently considered her.
Viv waited for something further, and when no words seemed forthcoming, she ventured, “What do you want? I was just minding my business. Beingliterary. That ought to make you happy, right?”
Iridia ignored the question. “Varine. Have you seen her?”
Viv blinked. “No. Plenty of her spawn, but never her.”
“Would you even know her if you saw her?”
Viv took another slug of her beer. “I’ve got a description, but even if I didn’t, I think I’d know.”
“And why is that?” Iridia’s tone was hardly warm, but it wasn’t as antagonistic as it had been during their prior interactions.
Viv studied her. “What are you after? You don’t like me much, you made that plain. So what is this?”
The tapenti sighed. “I don’t dislike you. I dislike what youmean.” She tapped her mug with a finger. “To be clear, that doesn’t mean I like you either.”
Viv snorted at that and raised her mug. Iridia cocked a brow and clinked hers against it.
“To annoyed mutual tolerance,” said Viv.
It’s possible the tapenti’s lip might have curled in a smile, but Viv couldn’t be positive.
After another drink, something shifted in the Gatewarden’s posture. The scaled flesh of her hood relaxed, and she swept the long, dry threads of her hair to the side.
“We’ve found nothing on whoever murdered our gray-clad stranger.”
Viv almost blurted his name but caught herself in time. There was no easy way to explain how she knew it.
“Oh, yeah? I guess I’m not surprised.” Then, carefully, “Did you find that bag you were looking for?”
“No.” Iridia toyed with her cup. “I pride myself on my practicality. Adaptability. Too many Wardens are set in their ways. Authority gives them an excuse to be lazy.”
“And to hassle wounded mercenaries minding their own business?” Viv grinned wryly.
