“No. Some things are worth a few cracked ribs though.”
They reached the door of Sea-Song, and Maylee laid a hand on Viv’s belly, warm through her shirt. “Come here, hon,” she said.
Viv got down on a knee and gently ran her fingers along Maylee’s braid. The dwarf stroked one cheek with her knuckles, then leaned forward and kissed her on the corner of her mouth.
“I won’t break when you’re gone. And neither will you. I could wish we would, because then you might stay to keep that from happenin’.” She smiled. “But thatwouldbreak you. So instead, I’ll see you tomorrow. And we won’t talk about this again, because nothin’ will change the way things will be, and it’s a waste of hours.”
Then she unlocked the shop, entered, and closed the door quietly behind her.
“Don’t look likeyouslept much,” observed Brand as he slid a plate of oatcakes and smoked bacon onto the bar-top before her.
Viv hadn’t. She’d dreamed of Varine again, and she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the necromancer wasactuallyseeing her. She’d awakened over and over, until in desperation she’d stretched out with Blackblood lying lengthwise on top of her, both hands folded across the blade.
After that, she’d snatched a few hours before sunlight lanced in through the window, and she’d groggily risen to face the day. Her leg ached as though she’d been running on it all night.
She washed her breakfast down with an enormous mug of hot tea and wished it did more to wake her up. Reluctantly, Viv left Blackblood up in her room and carried Satchel down the hill to the bookshop. The day was going to be hot, and every inch of sand the shadows relinquished swiftly bled out the nighttime damp. At least the heat seemed to do for her head what the tea hadn’t.
When she reached Thistleburr, Fern was sitting on the edge of the still-shaded boardwalk, fingers wrapped around her own mug of tea. Potroast stretched out beside her, licking one of his forepaws.
“Anxious?” asked Viv as she approached.
“Mmm. About whether the crates full of books that I spent most of my remaining funds on are actually going to show up at my door? Not at all.” She put down her mug. “By which I mean to say, fuck, yes.” There was an edge of excitement to her obscenity though.
“Hey, Potroast,” said Viv. The gryphet startled and looked at her, his eyes huge. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Remember, I hauled you down that hill last night?” She crouched in front of him and pulled a scrap of bacon from her pocket, holding it out to him between thumb and forefinger. “Gallina never gave you bacon, did she?”
He eyed her, then very gently extended his feathery neck and nipped it out of her grip.
Fern smiled at them both. “Well.That’sa good omen, I guess.”
Viv eased to a seat beside Fern and the gryphet and gently ran a finger along the silky feathers of his head, down past the point where they transitioned to short fur. His hide twitched and quivered behind her touch, but he didn’t protest.
“Huh,” she said. “How about that.”
They sat in comfortable silence while Viv scratched behind Potroast’s pointy ears. She even managed to wring some leg thumps out of him.
“There it comes,” breathed Fern, and leapt to her feet.
Clattering along the road from the fortress walls came Pitts, laboring under a bigger load than Viv had ever seen him pull.
When he rumbled to a stop in front of them, she spied three crates in his cart.
“Got somethin’ for you to sign,” he said, digging papers and a stylus from a pouch on his belt. While Fern attended to the paperwork, Viv began sliding a crate out the end.
“I’ll get ’em,” called Pitts as Viv hoisted the first off the buckboard.
“I got this one,” she said. She grunted as her muscles bunched hard against the weight of it, but she still hauled it to the door without too much difficulty. “Who knew a box of words could be so heavy?”
“Small stones tossed in the river. A thousand tiny prayers. The course is turned,” observed Pitts.
Fern furrowed her brow. “Is that from one of the poetry books? I don’t remember it.”
“Nope,” replied Pitts simply.
As Viv returned empty-handed for the next crate, she and Fern shared a glance, and neither could think of a thing to say.
The two orcs hauled the remaining crates while Fern hovered around the edges, whiskers twitching anxiously.
When Pitts had left, Viv unslung Satchel’s bag and Fern dusted him awake. Then the three of them stood together in the shop, inspecting the new arrivals while Potroast sniffed around the boxes.
