“The one that writes all those books with the dirty bits?”
“They’re notthatdirty,” protested Viv, although yes, they actually were.
“Didn’t say it was bad.” The baker grinned at her, a grin with something wicked folded into it. A grin that almost made Viv wish Rackam would take his sweet time.
Maylee set her wicker basket on the blanket. She’d insisted on carrying it herself. “Fern, you should havehercome by the shop next time you’re thinkin’ about a sale. Scones and sexy books? Yes, please!”
“Ha! I’d be terrified to ask her. That mansion of hers is forbidding. But as ideas go…” Fern trailed off.
Viv unbuckled her saber and leaned it against one of the stone pillars at the corner of the graveyard. She’d seen Maylee eyeing it the whole trip up. She’d felt a frustrating combination of guilt and annoyance at that, and she was still doing her best to wrestle both of those feelings back into their boxes. Nobody would be sneaking up on them at this height, but after her dream and her midnight conference with Satchel, there was no way in all eight hells she was going to troop out of town unarmed. The greatsword—Blackblood, she thought—felt best in her hands, but she’d reluctantly left it in favor of subtlety. Or at least as close as she could come to subtle.
This trip had been markedly less taxing than the previous one. Her leg felt stable, only twinging occasionally, and she was finally able to wear her right boot again. She felt almost herself.
“Well, it’s good to get some air, anyway,” she said.
“Youdidkinda bully all of us into comin’,” said Gallina as she removed her boots and dug her toes into the hot sand. “Lookit you. Big, tough, woman of action, organizin’ picnics.”
“Fern needed to get out,” replied Viv.
“Oh, is that what this is?Ineeded to get out?” Fern pretended to be affronted.
“Yeah, you did. Moping around, waiting for that shipment? The shop’s closed, the walls are painted. Everything’s done that can be done. You needed some air.”
Gallina lay back on the blanket, laced her fingers behind her head, and closed her eyes against the sun. “Long way to come for some air, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
“You know, Rackam really only has one rule,” said Viv.
Gallina cracked an eye at her. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Complainers don’t eat.”
Maylee laughed as she finished unpacking the basket, arraying bottles and crocks and muslin-wrapped bundles on the blanket. Fern shooed Potroast away from them with moderate success.
“Oh, and speaking of not needing to eat.” Viv unslung Satchel’s bag and flipped it open, unstoppering one of the vials to sprinkle dust over his bones.
As Satchel clambered to his feet, he surveyed the area with interest. He held out a hand before him, wriggling his fingers as though he could feel the breeze. Perhaps he could.
“Marvelous,” he said wistfully, looking out over the tumble of blue ocean, at the tiny ships plying the horizon. “So many of my days spent in the dark,” he murmured. “So much time wasted.”
Viv reflected again that although he had no flesh with which to express his emotions, something about the set of his body and the tone of his voice communicated a great deal. She thought of all those days, made conscious only to labor in some dire service she couldn’t even imagine, only to be returned to oblivion when Varine was done with him.
Seeing him in the sun, gleaming under its warmth, blew life into a cooling ember deep in her chest.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll wander a bit while you share your meal,” he said.
Viv thought it was the most relaxed he’d ever sounded.
“Be my guest. It’s about time you got out.” She thought about their conversation the night before. “We’ll try to make it something you can get used to.”
A rumbling sound, like stones tumbling over one another, issued from the vicinity of his jaw, and Viv realized that he was chuckling.
“I don’t imagine I’ll be strolling the streets anytime soon, no matter the outcome,” he said. “Some things are foolish to imagine.”
Viv couldn’t muster a reply that wasn’t insulting or false, so she wisely chose silence.
He strolled to the edge of the bluff, gazing after the seabirds that wheeled beyond.
The rest of them sat together on the blanket and worked their way through the bounty that Maylee had assembled. There were long, narrow loaves with flaky crusts. These she sliced lengthwise and spread with a soft goat cheese and pepper preserves, sweet and smoky. Green bottles of summer beer tasted of lemons and wheat fields. Thin ginger cookies snapped pleasingly between the teeth, and there was a crock of sugared cream to dip them in.
